"What happened to your arm?" a student asked me with a salty chin nod as I escorted him to the bathroom this morning. He'd been acting up in the makeup test session, so he required extra supervision.
"You mean this?" I pointed to the big bandage covering my forearm. "I had a thing there, and it needed to come out."
His eyes widened. "Yeah," I confirmed. "They cut a three-inch slice into my arm, and then they had to grab it with pliers and pull on it really hard to get it out. I have like ten stitches in there now, so it needs to stay covered."
His eyebrows were raised to his hairline. "Did it hurt?" he asked.
"No," I answered. "But only because they gave me four big shots of numbing. Even then, I could feel them digging around and yanking on it because it was so hard to get out."
He looked a little pale.
"I know, right?" I said, nodding. "Hey, thanks for asking."
He didn't give us any more trouble after that.
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