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StitchesTwo weeks later and I’m still sitting [and lying, and standing, and sailing, and driving] with stitches in my head.

They were scheduled to be removed last Friday, however the top pieces of the wound hadn’t yet knit together properly, and had the nylon thread been taken out, I would’ve been sporting a literal hole in my head.

Too few stitches and placed too far apart, methinks. But what do I know.

Perhaps it doesn’t help that despite all good intentions, I can’t help but roll over onto my left side during the night thereby rubbing the slash on my poor Marilyn cushion. So during the day the wound rests and heals, and at night MM bites it open again.

I tried wrapping a bandage over to my head to protect the wound, however after one nightmare involving blindfolding and strangulation [no prizes for guessing where the bandage was when I awoke] I gave that up as a bad idea. BDSM is not for me.

My hazardous sleeping habits have also resulted in my head being in constant pain since having the procedure done. I survived the first 24 hours thanks to generous handfuls of paracetamol [the pharmacist wouldn’t hand over Gen Payne without DNA swaps and a police clearance (oh how I miss having my own personal chemist)] however I’ve been a good drug-free girl since then.

By Sunday evening I could no longer live with the bloody, oily, dirty hair and despite instructions not to, I washed it. Ah heavenly! So lovely it was, that I washed it three times with three different shampoo’s and thereafter lovingly coated my locks with moisture rich conditioners.

I let my hair dry naturally as I wan’t about to put a hot hairdryer to my head; although I did relent and make use of my ghd to get iron out the kinks and curls. A girl’s gotta do what a girls gotta do.

And yes, my vanity has everything something to do with my new crush.* And wouldn’t you know, ’twas not a day after the cleanse that our communication improved. Coincidence? I think not.

Anyway, back to the good Doc tomorrow morning I go, with the fervent hope of having the prickly blue stitches removed without my brains splattering the consulting room; and at the same time we discuss the test results of both the contents of the cyst and the pap smear.

~ ♥ ~

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