Most people think that if there's anything more boring than listening to people's dreams, it's listening to people's whiny stories of how they got sick and all the details of that sickness. As you may know, I love hearing people retell their dreams, and I am also a fan of medical stories (I particularly love the Sunday New York Times column Diagnosis and everything the dreamy Atul Gawande writes for The New Yorker). Still, I will spare you, dear reader, mostly because I'm still exhausted and trying to get caught up on some actual work.
Below, a photo of my loyal nurse dog with his...platypus. Always at the ready.
I had cellulitis, go ahead and google away. I had it on my ear and Isaac described it as looking "like an Ork ear." Which I also had to google. Let me tell you: it hurts! So many adventures, all of them involving doctor's offices or the emergency room (two visits to the ER in the last three weeks, after thirteen years of not going to the emergency room). It was the night of Cinco de Mayo, and the Supermoon, and...wow. Mark and I regretted not taking any pictures in the waiting room, though it may have gotten us killed.
I really am trying not to give you too many boring details, but I can't help mentioning that I ended up with four "hospital" bracelets (I wasn't actually ever admitted to a hospital, I was just a brief visitor), four shots (three in my butt), and four prescriptions (one for Vicodin), so I guess four is my lucky number.
And I am better, no worrying allowed. my ear was ugly and hurt a lot and I felt like I had the flu. My medicine, my dog, my sweet nurses Mark and Isaac, my hot bag of corn, and hours of sleep have me back to a nearly normal state. My ear is peeling like it was sunburned, and I still feel like I'm getting over the flu, and kefir is my best friend.
One nurse really did refer to it as my "lost weekend." She was my favorite. I also loved the doctor at the ER who came to visit after they'd set me up in an actual bed with my own television and bathroom (after a four hour waiting room stay). I felt like I could stay there for weeks, watching Douglas Sirk movies on TCM. He was a cellulitis expert, though (the doctor, not Douglas Sirk), and sent me home with pain pills. I loved when Mark bought me a book and brought me a latte in bed and all the nights he made me a delicious dinner. I loved listening to Gardeners Question Time on my iPhone. But I'm glad to be done with being an invalid.