Day 2.

This is a rather attractive picture. Well, comparatively. I didn't want to freak anyone out by accentuating the:
oozing pus,
horrible swelling,
redness,
and other symptoms of cellulitis.

It's true, my face was infected. I woke up and my eye was practically swollen shut, dry pus and blood, etc. It was pretty ugly. So I made yet another trip to the Emergency Room (this time at a different hospital) and had an IV for the first time in my life. The IV is still in my arm which makes it impossible to bend it very well. So I had my roommate put a hairtie in for me. (Thanks, Heather.) And then she threw up because my face is so sick. (Actually, I am not sure if she really did. But it's possible.)

How exciting.

And I have to go back tonight.

How exciting.

And tomorrow I get to see a plastic surgeon.

How exciting.

All because of a raccoon. And a dumpster. And a baby. In danger. Or, alternatively, a dangerous baby. (And a couple of innocent-looking young cubs.)



Ok, that's not true. But I will elucidate more about what happened for all the curious souls soon. In a surprising, and hopefully comic, way.

Also. The only reason this is good is because it's a good story. And because I have some nice friends. I hear that storytelling is a good way to deal with trauma. So says this hokey website: http://www.eternalwhisperings.com/.

No, but seriously.