The Orange Zipper

For those curious readers, we have decided to share Miles' orange zipper with you.  Technically, there is no external metal, no tiny teeth serving as a track, no "YKK" medallions dangling about.  The only metal that remains on Miles is actually in Miles.  The ore in question can be found folded into tiny bows which hold his breast bone together.  Chest x-rays reveal what looks like four tiny presents in hiding.  

The bright zippered effect is created by a ladder of steri-strips and daily betadine swabbing.  I love the steri-strips; they will fall off on their own, as if they have secret knowledge of when their work is done.  No lallygagging for these strips, no sir.  Veni, vidi, vici.  We are stopping the betadine today, and his gauze pads no longer need to be on.  Guess my hands will longer look like they belong to a citrus serial killer.  Let the wound breathe!  We can also move on to real sponge baths.  Not the perfumed bubble baths of yore, but anti-bacterial sectional bathing.  Water still needs to avoid the neck area, though the infection looks pretty much gone.  But we are in no position to take any chances.  

The incision is fairly long- the size of Jesse's fist.  I don't really know how baby scars work.  I know that my scars are beginning to sag a bit with age.  Will the proportion remain the same for Miles?  Will his chest give valuable real estate to this wound, this badge of honor?  If so, that gives him a leg up in the "interesting story" department.  He may even get to use the line, "You should the other guy."  That quip is only available if he opts to tell folks he was in a knife fight as an infant.  Being a by-product of wacky and weird parents, this is a real possibility.  What me exaggerate. . .NEVER!