So pronounced the nurse, after I squeezed myself into her schedule and waited an hour to see her. This is because it's Friday, and I knew that if I didn't have a professional look at the wound, I'd worry that it was infected all weekend. Many, many times -- diverticulitis attack, various UTIs, children's ailments, and of course, the diagnosis of cancer -- conditions for which you need to see a doctor have occurred on the weekend, or just before a major holiday...just my luck, right?
I was already downtown on my first subway trip (complete with transfer at 42nd St) since surgery, to copy the syllabus for the first day of class on Monday and meet with a grad student who wants to do an Independent Study...pretty much on sex, but okay, sure. I felt lousy, and as the day went by, I had convinced myself that I was running a fever. Nope. The sweet and very efficient nurse took my temp and took one look and said everything was going well, and I just need to rest. It's common to feel worse after the first day or two, she said, because the immune system has kicked in after the first shock and is causing all the discomforts in the area that I'm experiencing, like redness, swelling and stinging. Interesting.
I came home to the comforts of a cable box that is up and running, after a serious diagnosis of TOO MUCH CAT HAIR in the mechanism by the technician. Not sure exactly what to do about that. The culprits don't go near the cable box, but their hair sure does fly wantonly about the room and lands everywhere. If I could sell loose cat hair as an accessory, I'd make a fortune.
So nice to nestle under the electric blanket and watch my electric boob-tube. And no pun about boobs intended.
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