Toxic

Yet another visit to the Emergency Ward.

Apparently there was liquid in that little reddish bubble of swelling on my new scar, like an accursed blister.

So the doctor did what I had always imagined myself doing to blisters on my feet: he stuck a needle into the infected area and sucked out the liquid with a syringe. Amazing. I had always wanted to attempt that with blisters but thought it was just some morbid desire of mine to get rid of them in a fast way, not, you know, an actual procedure. I sound like I have doctor instincts or something. Yay?

Anyway, I hated it when he was done with clearing the bump (thank God it was not pus or it might have spelt another surgery) and he started pressing a gauze against the scar to drain it of excessive blood that was probably tainted. While I sort of giggled hysterically as the liquid was being extracted, I began eeek-ing and whimpering in pain throughout the process of un-bloodying the wound. The doctor’s conversation with me about my music course to distract me did not really help either. It still hurt, damn it.

But fire always turns to ashes and the pain faded as soon as the pressure of the gauze lifted. And the nurses began the methodical process of dressing the wound. I had seen it done so many times that I actually knew the steps. Ugh. Not the type of information I really cherish having, despite it coming helpful when I need it.

I am just praying that this Emergency-Ward-visiting ordeal will end this week. Hopefully this tomorrow’s appointment there will be the last.