Dr. McDonald came for an early bandage change yesterday. She and an assistant pulled another 30 or so staples (eww!). She told Dad that a touch-up will be necessary for that palm-sized patch and maybe a few other places, but it won't be because the skin isn't healing: the problem is that when the skin heals from the inside-out, it forms scar tissue, and that tissue won't be strong enough (or the right type, or something like that) to support a prosthesis. So, everyone looking at the skin was right: it does look good, and it is healing well, etc. But Dr. McDonald (and Tammy, presumably, as she kept mentioning that patch as well) are focused more on the long term-- in addition to healing well, the skin has to knit/heal in a particular way to support the rigors of using a prosthetic limb. So that's the deal with that. She said the donor patch would be no bigger than the bottom of one of those 8oz. milk cartons (Dad happened to have one on his tray), so it won't be as painful, and could probably be managed out-patient without requiring an overnight stay.

Aunt Ruth surprised Dad with a visit late last night. He didn't even know she was headed back to Cleveland. I knew, as she asked me if I wanted a lift, but I didn't tell him-- surprises are more fun.

I haven't heard much from Aunt Marsha or Aunt Phyl-- I assume some amount of chaos has descended on the Haaser compound in anticipation of Dad's arrival. He should be discharged from the hospital later today, not sure when. Whee!