I simply went to the doctor today... to get a topical antibiotic. That's it. I came out with an appointment for surgery.
Huh? How'd that happen?
Actually, I know.
I am prone to staff infections. MRSA's, if you will. Whatever that means. And my little infection on my chest has returned... again... for, oh, the fifth time? Actually I don't believe it's ever gone away from the first time... about five or six years ago.
And this time around, this little bitty infection (read HUGE UGLY THING RIGHT BETWEEN MY, uh, MY... well, you know) IS KILLING ME!
I haven't slept in quite a few nights. I can't roll over at night. I can't roll over during the day, either, but that's just because it would seem a bit odd at work. I also can't wear heavy clothing over it. Which is also a bit odd... given that this is winter. And I can't breathe.
And breathing is not optional. Seriously.
So, off I went to the doctor. The antibiotic I received last year didn't seem to be working this year. (Never mind that it expired eight months ago.) So I was in search of a new topical antibiotic.
INSTEAD... I got pinched, poked, sliced, ripped, drained, and then set up for a surgery date.
If they are unable to remove the source of the infection, I said I'd settle for a lobotomy.