Yevette has been the Florence Nightingale of the Slime Coat.
Fo' real as the slime coat has a technical name but usually the only things known by technical names are sexually-transmissible diseases so we will skip technical.
Your woeful correspondent can't reach the afflicted regions, the damaged parts of the corpus, the areas of itching, bitching misery. Happily, Yevette, the Florence Nightingale of the Slime Coat, can reach them and that's instantly soothing, cooling, all those beauty words you want to hear when your body is saying only to get a flamethrower to go Buddhist monk on yourself and make the itching stop.
In my application of the Slime Coat when I could reach afflicted places, I was much cheaper than with Yevette as she uses the two-finger method for some major league slime slathering. That's ok as they sent two more jars of the Slime. There's no medicine in it so there's no difference for how much it's applied and it's so instantly cooling.
Something which may be useful to you is Bob Barker was the appropriately-named emcee for "The Price is Right" and he was also a huge advocate for animal rights. He had a heavy suntan for a thousand years or so and he said he got skin cancer every so often but they just got nicked it off and big deal, right.
That was the only practical comment I heard about it from anywhere and I wasn't following it but that did stick. OK, so probably not a big deal and they just nick them off when they happen. No problem.
That's total bullshit hogwash. They get worse.
There's an Operative Stoner Theory in this as it seem the dermos use a different technique for sutures and this exploits some type of 'inner stitches' and these itch more. This thinking is because regular sutures have never itched this much. So that's my Operative Stoner Theory and I'm sticking with it ... until some actual evidence presents itself ... besides a flamethrower, I mean.
Note: the reason for dermos doing that is it radically reduces scarring. It really does too and I was disappointed. Scars are so great for Big Fish stories!
The itching isn't over and removing the stitches won't change things a whole lot. The dermos must take out a substantial chunk of beef in the surgery and the skin stays tight from that for a while. When the original affliction was about five cm and the incision runs for up to fifteen cm, it's reasonable to assume those cowboys went strip mining. Unlike strip miners, they clean up after themselves and closing that gap causes the stretching, the itching, and blah de blah blah.
There's zero doubt they will go strip mining again so I wonder if it's heresy to say to them, 'how about you go with the railroad stitches this time??'
Those are the ones they do with a stapler and orthopods love them. The result looks like Reading Railroad on your corpus. I care so zero much about scarring and I care zooks about itching.
Your correspondent has now reached the Era of an Absent Slime Coat and that came with the blessed hot water and soap relief which came again at the hand of the Florence Nightingale of the Slime Coat who not only bestows the blessed goo but is equally adept at goo removal.
It ain't over, tho. There's a big one at the bottom of my back so you know that one is going to touch everything and then it bitches about it. Johnny pulled my hair, Mom. Kick his ass for me.
Tell you what, kid, pull my finger.
Note: Euros may not know that one. In Yank, if you pull an American's finger, he's probably going to issue a loud fart. Now you know. Make a note in your travel guides.
Oh, you heard about the guns and you don't have a travel guide. Of course. Easy to understand that.
There was a time as a kid (obviously) when it was amusing to use a trick which would make the car I was driving backfire in a particularly loud way. This was an eminently satisfying effect when I could do it downtown because then it would echo off the buildings. This was before the time of car alarms but imagine, if you will, the joy in how many car alarms this would ignite today. Even a Harley can't manage that.
Note: when I rode mine out of a parking garage, it would set off car alarms in the BMWs up and down every row and I would laugh and laugh.
Some of my sibs can attest to the truth of this as we were driving downtown in Cincinnati and I pulled this stunt. In a tiny flash, one of three rummies on the sidewalk on one side of the road whirled and, while he spun, he was reaching inside his jacket toward his breast pocket. Yah, that's where the holster usually holds the gun for a concealed weapon.
Yep, welcome to America, where you can get shot if a car backfires. This is when I knew, certifiably, these cowboys are fookin' crazy.
Fo' real as the slime coat has a technical name but usually the only things known by technical names are sexually-transmissible diseases so we will skip technical.
Your woeful correspondent can't reach the afflicted regions, the damaged parts of the corpus, the areas of itching, bitching misery. Happily, Yevette, the Florence Nightingale of the Slime Coat, can reach them and that's instantly soothing, cooling, all those beauty words you want to hear when your body is saying only to get a flamethrower to go Buddhist monk on yourself and make the itching stop.
In my application of the Slime Coat when I could reach afflicted places, I was much cheaper than with Yevette as she uses the two-finger method for some major league slime slathering. That's ok as they sent two more jars of the Slime. There's no medicine in it so there's no difference for how much it's applied and it's so instantly cooling.
Something which may be useful to you is Bob Barker was the appropriately-named emcee for "The Price is Right" and he was also a huge advocate for animal rights. He had a heavy suntan for a thousand years or so and he said he got skin cancer every so often but they just got nicked it off and big deal, right.
That was the only practical comment I heard about it from anywhere and I wasn't following it but that did stick. OK, so probably not a big deal and they just nick them off when they happen. No problem.
That's total bullshit hogwash. They get worse.
There's an Operative Stoner Theory in this as it seem the dermos use a different technique for sutures and this exploits some type of 'inner stitches' and these itch more. This thinking is because regular sutures have never itched this much. So that's my Operative Stoner Theory and I'm sticking with it ... until some actual evidence presents itself ... besides a flamethrower, I mean.
Note: the reason for dermos doing that is it radically reduces scarring. It really does too and I was disappointed. Scars are so great for Big Fish stories!
The itching isn't over and removing the stitches won't change things a whole lot. The dermos must take out a substantial chunk of beef in the surgery and the skin stays tight from that for a while. When the original affliction was about five cm and the incision runs for up to fifteen cm, it's reasonable to assume those cowboys went strip mining. Unlike strip miners, they clean up after themselves and closing that gap causes the stretching, the itching, and blah de blah blah.
There's zero doubt they will go strip mining again so I wonder if it's heresy to say to them, 'how about you go with the railroad stitches this time??'
Those are the ones they do with a stapler and orthopods love them. The result looks like Reading Railroad on your corpus. I care so zero much about scarring and I care zooks about itching.
Your correspondent has now reached the Era of an Absent Slime Coat and that came with the blessed hot water and soap relief which came again at the hand of the Florence Nightingale of the Slime Coat who not only bestows the blessed goo but is equally adept at goo removal.
It ain't over, tho. There's a big one at the bottom of my back so you know that one is going to touch everything and then it bitches about it. Johnny pulled my hair, Mom. Kick his ass for me.
Tell you what, kid, pull my finger.
Note: Euros may not know that one. In Yank, if you pull an American's finger, he's probably going to issue a loud fart. Now you know. Make a note in your travel guides.
Oh, you heard about the guns and you don't have a travel guide. Of course. Easy to understand that.
There was a time as a kid (obviously) when it was amusing to use a trick which would make the car I was driving backfire in a particularly loud way. This was an eminently satisfying effect when I could do it downtown because then it would echo off the buildings. This was before the time of car alarms but imagine, if you will, the joy in how many car alarms this would ignite today. Even a Harley can't manage that.
Note: when I rode mine out of a parking garage, it would set off car alarms in the BMWs up and down every row and I would laugh and laugh.
Some of my sibs can attest to the truth of this as we were driving downtown in Cincinnati and I pulled this stunt. In a tiny flash, one of three rummies on the sidewalk on one side of the road whirled and, while he spun, he was reaching inside his jacket toward his breast pocket. Yah, that's where the holster usually holds the gun for a concealed weapon.
Yep, welcome to America, where you can get shot if a car backfires. This is when I knew, certifiably, these cowboys are fookin' crazy.
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