Oh. My. Gawd!!!

Song of the day: “Who makes you feel,” by Dido. Strange song, but nice regardless.

I’m late, and I don’t feel well, and I want to go to bed sometime around midnight at least. *sigh*

Let’s start with the bad stuff…well, bad stuff for me anyway. For the past three days, more or less, the little lump that was left after my cyst removal a couple of months ago, had turned mushy, making my head hurt rather fiercely. So I asked cousin Ed to make me an appointment, which was this afternoon. So I got there when I had to be, had to wait for about five minutes and then was led into the surgeon’s room where I proceeded to tell him the problem. So, he bustled around checked out the problem by touching it (ouch), and promptly told me that it was inflamed and that I was to lie down on the table. Once there, face down once more, he proceeded to…*swallows* well…squeeze the puss OUT!
Oh. My. Gawd!!!
Seriously, in my time I have had sprained ligaments, been bitten numerous times in numerous places, have had cuts big and small, had an odd 25 percent of my body burnt to the point of 3rd degree burns, fell off a roof, scraped practically every part of my body at some point, and gawd knows what else, but never, has anything ever hurt as much as that guy pushing and squeezing the puss out. Cross-eyed just doesn’t cover it. (I even did the woosy leg lift lying there, for crying out loud.)
And then, when I thought the dude was finally done, he filled a needle-less syringe with iodine, or some such, and sprayed it into the wound. Gawd! Everything turned white for a moment as an ice-pick went straight into my skull (that’s what it felt like, anyway), and then my vision became blissfully numb for but a moment. Then of course he did some more squeezing, spraying, (was permanently crosseyed by then, with my nails dug into my palms) before he finally slapping this massive band-aid on the back of my head and told me he was done. Got up, feeling just a tad wobbly and woozy.
Apparently it is unusual for an infection to happen after the removal of a cyst, but not unheard of. I now have to come back on Wednesday, at which point he’s going to have to decide about the darn thing. If the infection isn’t gone, he’ll have to cut again and stitch it up. I’m telling you this, if that happens, I’m going to ask for local anesthetics. Jeez!
I managed to listen to his instructions, walk to the reception, and deal with the insurance while compartmentalizing the event in my head…as in, “don’t think about it. Don’t. Think. About. It!”…and got my next appointment written down. I just barely managed to cross the square in front of the clinic and reach the car where big brother waited. I yanked open the door, saw his expectant face and said in a rather wobbly voice: “I wanna go home.” I climbed in and slammed the door.
“That bad, huh?” he countered, starting the engine.
I gave a tight nod, “Nothing ever hurt that bad before,” and promptly started crying.
Told you, I shouldn’t have thought about it. But, gawd! That crying jag just had to get out.
Walked around with this oddly surreal headache the rest of the day, and had this really fun slab of white on the back of my head that is going to be a biatch to remove from my hair later on.
The only two plusses I have discovered from the entire ordeal is that the guy didn’t prescribe antibiotics, which I hate (must be the old school attitude) and for about an hour afterward my foot didn’t hurt at all. See, there’s an up side to everything, even disasters. *snort*

Well, that fun part shared, let’s get to the normal stuff, shall we. No sense in crying over past events.

Yesterday was market day, of course (slept badly, so I wasn’t in the best of moods). All went the way it usually goes, except that my hurting head (ya know, prior to the procedure) made writing rather hard. Did do two pages or so, though, and have passed the 20K mark as of early this morning. Yay. Writing-wise it has actually been going well enough. Have added 6K so far, and am about halfway through the book. Since the editor only suggested revisions in the beginning and middle. Adding atmosphere is going well. I have seen way too many movies of the era, and I have, of course, been getting lost in Wikipedia again. *sigh*

Had some seriously funny moments at the market, by the way. There was this younger couple with two kids and an uncle, I think, who came looking for a dog bed. While parent were debating the type of dog bed, the kids (two boys under five) dug into our baskets with toys and proceeded to go through it for the next hour or two. At a certain point they came to me, and the oldest started explaining that he really didn’t like money, and that he found payment such a bother, and that it just took so much time, and if he could just have the little transformer toy. I couldn’t help, I had to laugh, and said, “Wow. That’s a new one.” At which point he looked at me oddly, as if he didn’t understand the problem, so I squatted in front of him, met him eye to eye and when he asked if he could have the toy, I said: “Hmmm. What’s in it for me, then?” He seemed a little startled, then gave a tiny little smile, and decided to give me a quick hug. I had to laugh so bad I just barely managed to tell him that he could have the toy and watched him run back to his parents before I started laughing and told Cousin Ed what had happened. Gawd, those kids were the highlight of our day because our spot was (unexpectedly) in the back of the place, meaning that, because we hadn’t counted on that, we had to haul every single item all the way to the back. Unloading took us two hours, while loading up took us two and a half. Seriously, we didn’t leave the market until six thirty.

Have been dreaming of the ’20s a lot lately, which is a good thing considering I’m working on Chicago Hope. It’s really helped me get into the atmosphere of the story, and the story, since that is also the way I started on the story some odd seven, or eight years ago…or was it ten? Well, anyway, the beginning was based on a dream, so it’s only fitting that the end result will be based on that as well. Hah.

Washed the car, at last. It was covered in mud and dirt, so it was really necessary. Can you imagine what a sight we’d be if we arrive at market with red splashes all over the white Land Rover? Seriously, most folks there have shiny cars to begin with…not that I’m ashamed or anything, it is just that we’re noticeable enough as it is. No sense adding to that.

Then there was the preparing of market stuff, which took most of the day. Stock had to be aired out, prices decided on, and 2nd hand clothes sorted. Then everything had to be packed into bags again, and set aside while big brother and I did a quick donation trip to town, and arrived back home after six. Loading up took about an hour and a half, meaning that I was seriously pooped when we were finally done for the day and decided to chow down on French fries rather than bother cooking.

Today I did cook (big brother made mac&cheese yesterday) preparing mashed potatoes, a cabbage and beet salad, and fried, creamed broccoli. It all went down well after three days of making due.

Managed a bit of Spanish today. Not enough, but some at least. Busy, busy days, right? Well…what else.
Tenant is still not drinking right, and the male nurse who is coming over twice a week now to check her tubes, is warning gravely that if she doesn’t do better, she’s going to be in serious pain and will have to return to hospital. Not that this makes her drink any better, but what the hey. Eating wise it is going well enough, and through that we are at least sneaking in an extra two cups of liquid, but it’s hard, terribly hard to watch somebody wreck themselves that way. *sigh*

Well, I better get to bed. My doggies have been rather lonely the past couple of days, and they really need some attention.