Hiding out (March 17)

Day six in the hospital and I am less stir crazy than would be expected.

Word is I have cellulitus (spelling?), but have no clue what that means since I can’t Google it. Various sources say it is an infection of the tissue that can be very dangerous if left untreated. I had a small operation Saturday (March 14) to remove some of the infected tissue and help drain the infection. Nothing major – like I said, about the size of a bullet wound. I can’t see the bottom of the hole, but I can stick a Qtip head in it easily. The anesthesia was great; definitely worth parading through the hospital in an embarrassing cap & backless gown.

The doctor said patients normally stay in the hospital for a week or so to ensure the site is kept clean. Fine with me – I’m not taking any more chances. By chances I mean stepping outside of the hospital.

I think I’m just afraid to go back to facing everyday frustrations. The last week I’ve been a little lonely; the boredom is ok because I’m used to it, but it’s been a nice retreat from anxiety.

I snuck out of the hospital walls to buy credit for my phone today. It felt good being a little rebellious, ducking by the nurses station and waiting for the doctor to turn his back so I could slip out the door, but once in open air I stalled. The confines of the hospital had become my protection. What kind of infection would I pick up just from crossing the street? I shuddered but kept ahead.

The taxi drivers hissed at me and acted annoyed when I didn’t respond, as if it is my duty to post a sign that I don’t need their services so they don’t waste their time offering.
I have a freaking IV in my arm – does it look like I’m going far?
Grrrr taxi drivers.

I asked the doctor to let me stay under his protection a little longer.