Blech

Last Wednesday, I thought I was getting a rash. By Friday it seemed to me that it was Erysipelis. I had it before, in April of last year, when I was getting chemo. It's this effing medieval disease, a staph infection of the face that used to be called St. Anthony's Fire. One of those skin things that can probably be cured by having the King of England lay his hands on you. Thank goodness it also responds to antibiotics.

Friday, the dermatologist prescribed antibiotics and by Saturday it had all but disappeared. Then by today, it had come back worse. So back to the doctor tomorrow. What I really need is someone to go in front of me with a leper bell telling people to avert their eyes. While I'm not there yet, something about the swelling and glossy red surface of the skin that this disease produces make people think 'Elephant Man.'

I figure my immune system is seriously weird these days, from whatever it is that gave me the relapse scare.

But I finished a draft of a new story. And to console myself for my hot, itchy, red and swollen face, I made more shortbread.