The nurse took out all the staples from Mrs. Major’s knees. The tool she used looked nothing like the staple puller I have in my desk. No wonder Mrs. Major didn’t want me to do it. The tool looked like a small pair of pliers that had two teeth on the bottom and one on the top. When she squeezed, the staple would bend upward from the middle, unhook itself from the incision, and Mrs. Major would gasp. Read the rest of this entry »
© 2008, J. M. Erickson. All rights reserved.