I rarely see my doctor even though I think he's the best in the world. One of my biggest fears is that he'll retire and I'll have to see a doctor who has no idea about my history. In any case, I'm going to see him today.
I cut the lawn on Monday and managed to take a slice out of my shin with the ever deadly grass trimmer. A piece of the cord broke off and ended up hitting my leg. It took quite a piece of skin off and I've been treating it with antibiotic cream ever since but the site continues to look more infected and inflamed every day so I've decided not to let it worsen over the weekend.
This is an age where we aren't just threatened with minor blood infections but with awful things like flesh eating disease so I'm not taking any chances. Unlike the average man, I know when it's time to make a visit to my doctor.
Note: Here I am back from the doctor and wondering why I bothered to go at all. He took me right into his office, looked at the cut and pronounced it not too bad. The only reason he gave me an oral antibiotic is because of my possibly low immune system. He wasn't too concerned about the spreading area of red skin around the wound and darned if it didn't almost disappear by the time I got home. I'm very suggestible and I actually worried the wound would miraculously heal itself by the time my doctor looked at it. It's one of the reasons I hate calling the doctor because 9 times out of 10 I'll feel perfectly fine when I do see him.
One smart thing about pursuing my urge for a medical opinion today is that I won't be wasting time worrying about the cut all weekend, a long weekend at that!
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