Another day, another hospital bracelet

I just got back from the hospital. I spent the whole evening there.
My leg has developed full-blown cellulitis and is badly infected.
I laid in the E.R. for a few hours while they gave me an I.V. of antibiotics. (something called Rocephin). I have to return for the next three days to get three more doses of antibiotics pumped into me.
They left the I.V. needle thing in my wrist and bandaged up my arm to immobilize it, so when I return each day, they just have to unwrap me, IV me, and wrap me back up. (Plus I'm on oral antibiotics again too).
They couldn't find a good vein in my arm, so they had to stick me right in the middle of my wrist. This hurt like hell, and still doesn't feel very good when I make the mistake of moving my wrist, because of course that thing is still jammed in there.
Here's how I knew my leg was making a turn for the worse: the wound had been slowly healing down to the size of a dime. But it's now the size of a 50-cent piece. The red area around it had been the size of a bagel. But it's now larger than a CD. And it hurts worse. My leg has swollen and is full of fluid, which sometimes drains out and drips. (I know, that's gross, sorry). There's an awful feeling of pressure.
I realized this afternoon that it was not going to get better on its own, no matter how much tea-tree oil I used.
So I made the dreaded journey back to the hospital.
And I'm glad I did. I really feel like crap. As I was laying there in the ER, it dawned on me how lousy I felt, and I realized that the hospital was exactly where I needed to be at that moment.

This whole thing has turned into such a saga that I've given it its own LABEL, so you can revisit the whole storyline if you want.

One other thing: While I was there, they did a blood test to see if I was diabetic. I'm not. So there's good news, at least.
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