“Unlocking Secrets of a Newborn: What Happens at the One-Month Checkup?”
“I’m good,” Sam says.
“So that’s it?” I stare one more time at the lone bandage.
“Yes,” the doctor says.
Sam puts back on his Nirvana tee shirt. His shoulders still rounded. It’s the first time in four years I’ve seen him in clothing without some form of tight binding. I want to tell him to stand straight. I look back at the used bandage. As part of his aftercare, I wrapped him in it twice a day for one month. Meaning I wrapped him in it sixty times since surgery. Swaddled him gently. Hand washed his bandage in lavender soap each morning and night. Hung it to dry over a shower curtain. Someone besides me will now have to throw the bandage away. I want to scoop it up. Claim it. Stick it in my bag. I don’t.
