So for some reason, the scar on my leg (from the matatu accident) decided to freak out completely. It kept filling up with blood under the surface, then bleeding out. This process continued for about a month and a half.

I performed a few minor operations involving sharp implements (i.e. kitchen knife) before I finally took really drastic steps. That's right, I went to the d-o-c-t-o-r. I was worried my leg might bleed on my clothing and ruin it.

During a preliminary screening, my health-service-facility-physician suggested opening the cut up, checking to see if anything was in it (i.e. pus or unremoved stitches), then restitching me. I listened patiently to him explain the whole shebang and the technical procedures required and the need to schedule a surgery room, then told him, "I'm quite busy for the next few weeks. You know, you could save me a lot of time if you'd just slice it open now." It was safe to say I didn't endear myself to him.

So I had the operation on Tuesday. He didn't find anything in it, so I feel a bit cheated. I wish I had some gore to share, but alas, I do not. I do hate to disappoint you.

I told the doctor and the nurse I was getting my PhD in Organizational Behavior. This led to loads of questions about "What is wrong with our clinic?"

This made me a bit nervous because:
(A) I didn't want to engage in dialogue for fear the doc would get distracted and my stitches would be all wonky.
(B) I am on your clinic operating table. I do not want to hear that your clinic has "major problems". Duh.

But, I must say, both the nurse and the doctor were really nice. My stitches look really nice as well (or as nice as stitches can look). I have only three of them. They come out next week. Yay!