This is not a picture of me, but I wish it was. That scar is smaller than mine, and it looks way better, too. Then again, I'm glad I don't have that hair situation going on.
I'm grossing out over the scar on my neck. It looks like I had a close encounter with a guillotine. Sunny side up. It's red, it's big. It's nasty. I can feel the little subcutaneous sutures right beneath my skin. There's a ton of swelling above and below it. So much swelling that I can sometimes feel it jiggle around when I move. WAH! I'm feeling sorry for myself.
Unfortunately, I have a lot of time to dwell on my self pity today, because the kids are home from school and there's not much going on. The girls are baking cookies, and the boys are...somewhere. Oh yeah, they went to the park.
I should do something constructive, but I don't feel like it. Paul just left to go to his Fantasy Football draft. He'll be gone all night. It's a man-thing. They eat BBQ road-kill and drink alcohol and pretend they own a football team. I don't get it.
posted by Juanita at
11:21 AM
1 Comments:
Could be worse. Grant (from blogland) almost died because of an infection on his neck, and when the kids and I saw him with his stitches, we made sure he knew that he looked like Frankenstein what with the scar that went around 3/4ths of his neck, with stitches. Looked like somebody sewed his head back on out of pity.
But as one of my teachers from high school once said, "doesn't matter if children in Africa are starving if you, personally, are miserable. Misery is misery."
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