The Glue That Binds Me

The incisions from my laparoscopic surgery were glued back together. How cool is that? I have other scars where stitches were used. They are unattractive, and you can actually see the marks made from the needle. Over the last few weeks, as I’ve watched the surgical glue peel off, I’ve been reminded of my Catholic school glue encounters (I know, what in my life doesn’t remind me of Catholic school?). In elementary school we used to spread a thin layer of Elmer’s glue on our hands, let it dry, and then peel it off like a layer of skin. As with all things in elementary school, it was gross and excellent at the same time. One day I was blowing on some wet glue spread on the palm of my hand. My teacher caught me, and accused me of sniffing glue. I had no idea why anyone would sniff glue, when blowing on it worked much better for the drying process. Duh! Nuns always thought the worst of you, and were suspicious of anything fun. In eighth grade we got an honest-to-god new text book. It had a new book smell, something I was obviously unacquainted with (because it wasn’t 30 years old like all the other text books). Even though it was a social studies or history book (what’s the diff?), I was eager to receive it. I would open it up, shove my nose in as far as it would go, and sniff deeply. It was glorious, until I got yelled at for smelling my book. Nuns were masters at making sure no one was having a good time. I wonder what they would think about my glued-together incisions. Must be sinful, because I have really enjoyed them!