Today was of mild medical interest and greater sociological interest. I visited the respirologist, and neither he nor I are any longer certain whether I actually have asthma, so there’s another round of tests in a couple weeks. It could be a misdiagnosis from when there was a giant dead tumor in my neck last summer.
I also visited the radiation oncology nurses for them to have a look at the skin on my neck. The consensus between them and a resident was that the skin was breaking down in the crease of my neck from the radiation treatment. I was hoping for a really bad heat rash. The prescription was — a dressing! File under “I thought I was done with this shit.”
The dressing consists of some revolutionary new antimicrobial fabric, gauze and some kind of gelatinous goo that is supposed to keep it moist. The whole thing is covered by another bandage that is affixed to the back of my neck and has already come off once. It’s supposed to stay on for 5-7 days but we’ll see how long I make it. It’s supposed to work wonders for open wounds like mine, and it is at least a change from the sticky grey goo I was putting on my neck 3 times a day (flamezine).
On the way home from the hospital I picked up some groceries and some bagels (as I appear to be able to swallow bagels again, at least once I’ve chewed them) and I am pretty certain every single stranger took a good long look at the giant bandage on my neck. So much for the joy of being out in public. I take consolation that it’s insanely hot outside and we have air conditioning.
Then again, Carrie just got home and dropped all the shades because she had her eyes dilated. She can’t see anything but is blinded by the sun.
EDIT: I forgot to mention that said bandage-staring caused a scene at the bagel shop. A young mother sends in her very young child to buy a bagel. He wants cinnamon-raisin, she keeps yelling for him to buy blueberry. I am next in line, and there is a quickly growing line behind me. The woman behind the counter retrieves the requested bagels, first cinnamon-raisin, then blueberry. Except the child has $.75 and this bagel costs $.90. The child is too young to understand how to count money or the concept of price. Or apparently that he wants a blueberry bagel and not a cinnemon-raisin one. By this point, the mother is outside the store, forced out by the growing line. The woman behind the counter keeps addressing the child who is staring obsessively at my bandage and ignoring her. I’m sure this went on for like 10 seconds but it felt like 30 minutes. Eventually the thing was resolved by getting the mother’s attention and order was restored. If I wasn’t so weirded out by the whole situation, I should have had the presence of mind to cover the $.15 difference and thereby end an extremely awkward situation. That would have been totally worth 15 cents.