“Do you have to put those in?” I enquired of the medical expert, when he was trying to explain the procedure to me. “Yes, they are the best!” he replied.
“Surely there is a less tortuous way to achieve the same end?” I continued, only slightly joking. “Nope.” He refused to see my point of view. I have a feeling he has never personally experienced the awfulness of staple removal.
“It’s nothing! You will be two weeks healed by the time they swiftly remove them.” Yeah, he said that.
Two weeks healed… that sounded a bit like an oxymoron when you’re talking about a hip replacement that will require a very large incision. It was six months ago that I replaced my bone-on-bone left hip. Sure enough, two weeks healed — ahem — and I return to have the staples removed.
“I’m a total wimp,” I explain to the young medical assistant who was holding the implements of torture. “Oh, we have dry ice for you — it will be fine,” she responds. Hmmmm. She is much too young to need any new joints, I think to myself. She has certainly never been the victim of staple removal. She’s trying to have the appropriate bedside manners — and failing. And sure enough, it was very painful to have those incisor scissors pull at my gooey flesh. What is up with that? We can do all kinds of amazing things in medicine and science these days — we cannot make staple removal a painless procedure?
Move stage swiftly forward six months and it was time for my left knee replacement. It made all the sense in the world for this procedure to happen within the same calendar year since I had already met my health insurance deductible, oh and I won’t have health insurance in the coming year, so there is that too.
Christmas 2025 was just a blur of drugs and sleeping. Then we arrived at the two-week “healing” time period to remove the 39-odd staples that were holding my knee and leg together. I knew that I was going to get myself in a right tizzy about this, since the memory was so fresh in the flesh from the last time. I told anyone who would listen in the doctor’s office that I would need extra pain stuff for this procedure. “Oh, we have the dry ice spray to help you,” the nice MA advised me. “Oh no, not that again! That stuff doesn’t work,” I whispered back at her, now very present at the scene of the crime from six months previous. I had imbibed some pain meds at home before I left, but they were not even touching the sides of my very negative anticipation.
Each individual staple was painfully extracted to my audibly loud tears and screams. I was so angry that no one stopped to ask me my pain levels, because they constantly do that in medical recovery, except for in the staple-removal torture chamber apparently — yeah, try a 10-plus on the agony level — I just cried and cried. “Only 15 left!” she said cheerfully. I nearly threw my walking stick at her. “I’ve already removed 15!”… Oh dear, my language, I did apologize, but heavens. That will NEVER happen again, people. And then it took me several days to catch up on how sore I was and stiff and still furious and going backwards in my recovery.
Then I started thinking about the other staples of life. Not the nasty torture kind, the necessary kind for humans to live a better life. Food, water, shelter, kindness — those staples. We had a lot of very delicious food in our house over the holidays and, rightfully so, because we could, we donated to the Salvation Army to give a little hand up to those less fortunate. We helped a local family have a nice Christmas with a Christmas tree, new clothes, toys, shoes, books and more. That is the staple of a good life, is it not? Be kinder than necessary, be generous spirited wherever possible, do as you would be done by. These are all pretty basic staples for a good life, folks. Not brain surgery or even staple removal level, just fundamental humanity.
It was the most interesting year, the one we just closed out. We consistently had all the life stuff going on. Weddings, funerals, illnesses, babies… we ran the gamut of the strange meshed with the normal and the beautiful these past 12 months. Even if I hadn’t just had surgery, I would still be needing some extra peace at the turn of the year, some stillness, some additional time for inner thoughts and sanctity for my mental health.
I find myself in need of more time with my animals, more good books to read, slots of time set aside for writing and thinking and planning. January is a good month for that — you replace the old calendar, you contemplate which cupboard to clean out next, you put away the tree and the trimmings of the festive season. You stop, you take stock, you watch the rain and the hillsides turning green once more. You quietly contemplate your next move in this game called life. If, like me, you are peacefully stepping/hobbling out of the shadows into a new year with a walking stick and large, near-healed scar on your leg, looking for the next bag of ice to put on the knee and the next physio session, then slow is your pace and gradual is your journey back to wellness.
Another key staple of life — lest we ever forget it — is your health and I don’t say that lightly. After two surgeries in six months, I am here to tell you that your wellbeing and physical comfort are seriously key staples to a good life. Without these things, the quality of your life is much diminished and your decline a certainty. I shall never again take for granted my physical comfort and ability to freely move. I shall work on my return to that life staple as quickly and successfully as possible.
Sending healing vibes and no possibility of staple extraction to all y’all. May 2026 bring you peace, love and kindness. The world always needs more of that.
