Everybody's been there and I don't mean on vacation

Silliest weekend ever.
Friday, Kate came over and we hung out all day. It was a lot of fun.
Ponyo loves ham.
In case you weren't aware.
Then we walked around Greensburg until we ended up at the Rialto Cafe.
This adorable little Italian place.
Mike met up with us and after we ate we went back to my house for a while longer.

The next morning I woke up with what appeared to be a pretty nasty bug bite on the inside of my forearm. The bump was pretty big and there was a clearly defined red circle about an inch in diameter around it.
I rubbed so stuff on it to make the swelling go down and took a Benedryl, assuming it would be gone within a couple of days.
The next day the bump was bigger, the circle had expanded to two inches wide and it was incredibly sore if I accidentally bumped it or touched the surrounding area. I was going to let it go for one more day to see if it got better and then go to the doctor, but throughout the day it just got worse. So at 12 last night Mike and I packed into the car and went to the Emergency Room, where we were seen at 3.3o am.

Now. I understand there were probably people in that place who had much worse than a bug bite and therefore needed medical attention more drastically than me, but c'mon, three and a half hours?
We were moved to two different rooms. The second one was cozier. A cozy as a hospital room can be, I guess. I don't know, I like hospitals. I feel safe there. They'll take care of me. We turned most of the lights off and I curled up in the bed and Mike sat in a chair next to me and held my hand while I dozed. I was tired and kept saying, "They didn't put an IV in me, I'm not staying the night. I'm not staying." Because I really wanted to believe that this was just a simple little doctor visit to get a shot and a prescription and go home.
It didn't really work out that way.
The doctor finally came in and poked and prodded and looked concerned. He was nice and told me that whatever it had started out as, the "bug bite" had progressed to the beginning stages of MRSA. He came back with a tray of shiny tools and explained what he was going to do.
He was going to shoot the area full of novacaine and then open it up to get all the bad stuff out.
The shot hurt like hell.
It burned and ached and it was really horrible.
And then I accidentally saw what he was going to use to cut it open.
Y'know those medical dramas where they cut the person open in surgery and sometimes you just can't watch?
It was like that.
Then he stuffed it full of packing and I have to go to another doctor and have him change the packing and I'm not looking forward to it, because it already just aches and aches all the time under the big white bandage.
I'm no stranger to emergency room procedures. I'm one of those kids who's gone in a billion times for everything; near fatal fevers, vomiting, broken bones, a nine day migraine trip where they gave me so much morphine I thought my brain was going to float too close to the sun and pop. This was by far the most traumatic hospital trip I've ever had.

I hate bugs.