Are you there god? It's me MRSA.

Margaret had to deal with buying her first bra, having her first period, coping with belted sanitary napkins (times have changed for the better, in so many ways), developing breasts and being the child of an interfaith marriage.

And I have MRSA. On my face.

That pretty much sums it up.

Thanks, good night, god bless and drive home safely folks.
Nov 11 '09

My anxieties go to eleven

One thing I’ve noticed since this little adventure began is becoming increasingly anxious about the slightest bump, or itch or red-spot on my rather voluminous body.

Imagine if you could not scratch an itch for fear it might abrade your skin enough so that a lurking predator, like staph-a could set in. Now, add to that some personal grooming tasks. No eyebrow plucking, no leg shaving, no shaving anywhere - it ain’t pretty but then again neither is my face.

When I lay down at night, I am beset by this sort of suggestible or pyschosomatic itchiness and the accompanying anxiety thoughts (is it more MRSA? why am I freaking out over a random itch? why am does my inner-dialogue NEVER FUCKING PAUSE) plague me until I drift off. Last night, I took an Ambien™.

It is like my normal level of neuroses, ‘cept it goes to 11!