Hospital sheets always smell like death.
In and out today.
I am here so early there are no other patients. Which I don't like. I am usually one of those "hospital talkers" people hide from, and I love eavesdropping. Out of luck today.
There was no steroid-mania last night. Just a little fogginess and restlessness. But I managed to get some sleep.
I am still ravenous though. I could murder a Big Mac. And my heart is thundering and head is pounding (that precious little Ativan-Prednisone cocktail).
Snap! - Someone has arrived. The life cycle of a facial cyst has just been explained in great detail - very, very close to the side of my curtain. I love gross stuff.
Day 2 done.
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