Fun with Cellulitis, Part Two

See, here's the thing: Child care providers? We're always sick. We wash our hands until our knuckles crack and bleed, but we still pick up crazy viruses from our kids. It's the worst part of the job. It sucks bigtime.

Last fall I had a spectacular run of illness, a virtual symphony of symptoms. It began in Allegro with a cold in mid-October, slowly turned Adagio with a growing sinus infection toward the end of the month, morphed into a Minuet of cellulitis in my nose in mid-November, and crescendoed into an roaring ear drum rupture on November 30 for the Presto finale. At least I got Vicodin for the rupture. It was meager compensation, though.

And after all that, guess what? The cellulitis--it's back. I called Dr. Dad this morning to ask if lightning ever strikes the same place twice, and he said, "Yep." So that's just lovely, isn't it? Another trip to Urgent Care tonight, another round of Clindamycin. Maybe a CT scan for good measure. My own nose is rebelling against me, swelling and turning v. tender by the hour. Last time around, it looked like I'd broken it; the left side of my poor schnoz swelled up and turned angry red. So far, the swelling isn't too bad this time around. Knock wood, y'all.