Thursday, Milady noticed a spot on her upper lip was sore, and she thought she had an infection. By Friday, the pain was sufficient that she hied herself to the doctor, who looked at it, proclaimed a staph infection and put her in the hospital on antibiotics. This morning, he lanced it, cleaned it, and kept her in the hospital. I, of course, have been at the hospital all day.
She is fine, in good spirits, and bored out of her mind. She will be released tomorrow and our lives will get back to something resembling normal.
Staph infections can be damned inconvenient. As a registered nurse, Milady knows this. She knows those maladies that are within her purview to treat and she knows which ones are beyond her ability. I am forever having her look at strains, cuts, scrapes and other boo-boos, both on myself and the grandchildren. In five years, there has been just exactly one time where she looked me dead in the eye and ordered me to get my sorry butt to the emergency room.
I hate hospitals. There are sick people in hospitals. The one she checked into doesn't have internet access. With those prices, you would think the administration would have broken the code on wireless service to the rooms. Not hardly. They have a $60 million expansion in progress, with fences across roads and traffic horribly screwed up, but you can't get Yahoo! in the rooms.
I hate hospitals.