[Magdalen] Well, the Latest.

[M J _Mike_ Logsdon]

Whew.  Yesterday morning I went to the Regional Wound Healing Center affiliated with Salinas Valley Memorial Hospital (where I was born), and met the youngest son of one of my jazz musician friends, Doc Matthew Romans, plastic surgeon.  First let me say that this clinic is STUPENDOUS in every way:  the medical care, the pleasantness of the staff (many of whom sang along with Christmas carols on the radio the whole time), the speedy attention (I was called in immediately, after I heard of the nurses explain to a fellow nurse that I needed to see the Doc as soon as possible -- how often does THAT happen), etc.  Quality joint.  Anyway.  I am apparently an enigma, at present, because this specialist par excellence looked me over, poked and prodded, stuck cut and peeled for a biopsy (I've never had a lidocaine shot aimed directly at an open wound before, much less THREE), and finished up with scratching his head saying "I think I know what's going on, but it's happening in a way that isn't normal."  Yay, thinks I.  He prescribed a dead-flesh-eating ointment for me to use on the worse wounds, and continuance of the standard antibiotic on the lesser ones, and sent me home to dress everything once a day and come back in two weeks.  (I just now finished up doing my first 24-hr dressing, and did pretty well I think.)

I had the last word of the appointment by saying as he was leaving the room, "Hey, say Hi to your dad!"  It impressed him to no end that I knew his jazzy Pop.

Today was hard at work, because on several levels yesterday was DRAINING to the extreme, and I ended up leaving work an hour early so as to get my shopping done as soon as possible and then home for the dressing.  I feel better now.  Considerable pain, though, remembering that there ain't exactly all that much meat on one's shins.  But since I've been on the antibiotic, I have to say I've been sleeping like a baby.  What a battle's going on in my bloodstream!

But the cherry on top is the fact that my work year is OVER.  Being both off work (with pay) and off jury duty (Yay!) through Sunday the third, is unbelievable.  And, as always, my prayers for all those who do not have such benefits.