So there is some infection in the incision under my left arm. The surgeon looked at it, cleaned it really well, gave me yet another two antibiotics (one oral, one topical) and then showed Dave how to dress it. We'll have to do dressing changes three times a day (she suggested two, I suggested three and she said if I could stand it, it would be better to do three). Then she gave us some wound care materials (sponges, saline wash, povidine swabs) to use.
It's not a comfortable process for any of us, but at least I have Tylenol with codeine to help on my end.
We came back to the hotel room and changed the sheets on my bed. (I'm using disposable sheets because I don't trust hotel sheets.) I was exhausted by then so I lay down. Poor Dave's day continued. He went to Trader Joe's to pick up some provisions, then to Walgreens for the new prescription, then to another grocery store for soy milk and a few things that Trader Joe's doesn't carry. After he got back, I took more pain meds in anticipation of the next dressing change.
The surgeon thinks it should take about five days to turn things around. We'll only be here another seven days, so hopefully that prediction is correct (and we don't end up in the ER with me on IV antibiotics).
I just took the second antibiotic--Cephalexin, 500 mg--so now just waiting for the anaphylactic reaction to kill me. (This is how my brain works, in case you were wondering how health anxiety manifests itself in my life.)
So far so good. But it's only been about five minutes. I'm still alive and kicking.
We took an Uber to the surgeon's office, the second time I've been in an Uber. Ubers still freak me out. Also, why does every Uber driver wear all the cologne? Is it part of their contract. Two of the three Uber drivers we've had have worn all the cologne in the world. It's like the Axe Body Spray Wars were fought in the backseat of their cars. It's even better when you consider that my oxygen concentrator is CONCENTRATING that odorous poison and sending it straight up my nose. That's really the best part of Uber as far as I'm concerned.
I'd say that it's different with taxis, but it's not. The taxi driver from the airport also was wearing all the cologne. And the one we had on the way to the hospital also had bathed himself in all the cologne and then apparently opened another bottle and gargled with it. Because why not?
I understand the addictive personality way of thinking ("If one is good, a thousand must be AMAZING!") but I don't see how this applies to cologne, or any scented thing really. It smells like dying brain cells to me.
Okay, ten minutes in and I'm still alive. (Though I'm not sure it's ten minutes. Maybe it's only been nine.)
Of course Dave has final say, but here are some things that should be on record: My friend Grace gets one of my sewing machine. The Janomes are the most user friendly. My Juki is the best machine I own, but it is not user friendly and it only does a straight stitch. You can't even zig zag stitch on it and forget all those decorative stitches that make life fun. Anyway, Grace can also have any of my art supplies--and can share the rest with the artist whom our cat has recently fallen in love with. After that, they can send the rest to the art space at the same place as Healthcare for the Homeless is.
My mom can have the pick of my quilts, if she wants any. My aunt Char and Kelly and Kevin, too. I don't really have anything else of value and none of them sews so maybe they'd like a quilt or two.
Dave came in and sat with me while I had a snack and then he got into his pajamas and is now in bed, napping. He's as exhausted by all this as I am, so spare him a thought or ten while you all are sending good and healing vibes my way.
My journals I'd like to have sent to the American Diary Project. I have years and years of paper and art journals. Maybe they'll be of interest to someone someday.
It's fifteen minutes and I'm still alive, so there's that.
I do have to go to the bathroom though, so I'll finish this up later.
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