Tuesday, July 2, 2013

My 37th Birthday

Caveat emptor: this is a crazy long post.

Backstory: we had a few people over for dinner on Sunday night, which happened to be my 37th birthday. One of the couples who came over are some new friends of ours, and they both happen to be doctors. At breakfast the other day, Scruff mentioned to Jon (the new friend) that a splinter had been stuck in his finger for over a month--could Jon get it out one day? As it happens, Jon is a surgeon, but his wife, Jenny, is a dermatologist, and apparently the kind of dermatologist who doesn't mind bringing surgical equipment to a nominal birthday party.

So, what follows is a photo-journal of the excision of Scruff's splinter. I am absolutely not kidding when I say that it was possibly the best birthday present I could have received. I understand that not everyone is interested in this sort of thing, so I do apologize. It was my birthday, however, and I feel I am still under the aegis of that special day when I hijack my family blog to document the surgery. 

Caveat over. This first picture is Scruff's finger. It's difficult to spot the splinter, but there is a massive callus on his finger that had formed up around it.
Here is a broader shot. Notice the child's toy, the beer, and the middle Wamsted child eating birthday cake. These elements are the leitmotifs that define the overall aesthetic of the evening's operation.
Getting ready: lidocaine in the syringe, beer down the gullet.
I know this shot might bother some people with needle issues (Millie), but it's just such an interesting picture.
Scruff, getting a little woozy but trying to be brave for our new friends.
Jenny, cutting in.
Callus removed, splinter hopefully to follow.
But they can't find the splinter! That's Jon, the liver transplant surgeon, way out of his depth here. Notice the not-so-subtle eye-roll of his better half.
And she takes back the magnifying glass, believing that if anyone is going to find this splinter, it sure won't be Jon.
And she goes back in for what she thinks she sees.
Finger & instruments, immediately after Jenny finds the splinter.
Scruff, eyeing down the tiny piece of pinecone that has plagued him lo these many weeks.
The tiny piece of pinecone, resting atop the right prong of the tweezers.
Scruff, feigning optimism.
Scruff, admitting he doesn't feel well but still trying to play it off. That is the son of the doctors blithely walking by there. He probably sees stuff like this every day. Lucky kid.
Scruff, admitting defeat. How cute is that baby, though, right?
Scruff, some fifteen minutes later, bouncing back. As it was my birthday, we closed out the night with a short singalong. If I have to turn 37 (which sounds just so close to 40 all of a sudden), this is the style in which I wish to pass it. Happy birthday to me!


  1. Did you tell all of your male invitees to wear blue plaid shirts?

  2. Hands down, the greatest blog post ever!