Human Tailoring

Upon leaving an asylum interview Friday in Anaheim I received two matter-of-fact but slightly panicked voicemails from Heather - "I’ve been called to the preschool because Erika split her head open" and "We’re at the emergency room now, call me." I called and Heather explained that the doctor had just stitched an inch long cut on Erika’s forehead. Mind you, I had just spent several hours presenting medical evidence to prove that the visible scarring on my third world client’s forehead was caused by a persecutor’s rifle butt. I imagined Erika as a young adult having to explain her scar in social settings, "This one? Oh yeah, preschool playground." That’s okay for a boy. I expect our boy to sit around with his buddies and compare scars, but Erika? Not so much.

I worried that a recent med school grad (who’s only experience with suturing was watching Rambo; First Blood) had mistaken dental floss with #00 sutures and stitched my daughter’s forehead with all the care of Dr. Frankenstein. I said, "Take her to a plastic surgeon." Heather’s brief silence said, "How do I find a plastic surgeon at 4:30 on a Friday afternoon?" But, as usual, Heather makes things happen and within minutes she called back to report she had found one. Fortunately, the plastic surgeon was impressed with the stitchery and gave Heather some tips on how to keep the scar from turning into "train tracks."

I finally made it home through the rain soaked SoCal traffic. I ached to comfort a sulking little girl. I opened the front door and Erika stuck a sticky, heart-shaped lollipop in my face and grinned with cherry-stained teeth. She was oblivious to the large flesh colored bandage on her forehead. The blue sutures protuded slightly above and below the bandage. Finding no reason to ruin her good mood, I ignored the stitches and just asked her how she was doing. She looked at her sticky fingers, grinned again, and ran off.

Erika hasn’t complained a bit. She’s as happy as she's ever been. Today I peeled back the bandage to reveal the blue sutures. I expected to see the finest tailoring but sutures are never pretty. Erika looked in the mirror. Then she smiled and raised her eyebrows as if to say, "Like my new threads?"

UPDATE: Heather was not as amused by the Frankenstein photo. Here's the real "after."