It’s not a big operation; a small hole in my upper arm to remove a piece of plastic that’s been releasing hormones into my blood stream for the past 3 years.
The doctor swabs my skin and lays a green sheet with a hole in it over the pen marks he’s made. I don’t see the needle or the scalpel but I do lift my head and watch as he rootles around in my arm, following the ultrasound to the alien object embedded in my flesh.
He exclaims when he finds it. Apparently nine minutes is his new personal best.