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He Was A Doctor, After All

When it came apparent blood was trickling down his head and he had a decent sized gash, he and mom decided to not go to the ER. Nope. He was a doctor after all. They drove out to his practice to get some supplies.

Once back home, my father convinced my mom to perform some low-grade surgery. Yep. The gash was on the top of his head which prevented dad from performing the procedure himself as he would not be able to see. So mom begrudgingly, but firmly pulled together the 1.5 inch long flaps of skin on top of Dad’s shiny bald head and proceeded to surgically staple the wound together. A total of 6 staples if memory serves.

They then ate supper and Dad went back to sipping his Coors and watching the ball game. Mom went on to bed.

About a week later it was time. Time to remove the staples. After a long day at the office, Dad came home with the surgical staple remover in tow. Mom let out a sigh that rung throughout the neighborhood and is as far as we all know, is still hovering in space over Lake Montonia…

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