So, I had a panic attack because I thought I was getting another MRSA infection yesterday.
That was fun.
I ended up having Chelsea (who thankfully was in a good-for-her mood) take me to the ER because Mom wouldn't because I was not willing to mess around and was in unbearable pain and hadn't slept for more than 24 hours. But Mom was convinced from the start I was overreacting so she refused to do anything. Of course. Including go and pick up the antibiotic my doctor called in.
They took my cast off at the ER (and put me in a hard splint when I left) and couldn't see any obvious signs of infection, just major skin irritation, so all they could do was get my pain down to a more manageable level and help the nausea I was having (because of the pain) and send me home. My doctor's office will be calling me tomorrow to get me in for a much sooner appointment than the one I originally had set up for two weeks from now.
Then, my uncle so graciously came and picked me up because Chelsea had no gas and my grandma was still incommunicado (I later learned she was at an all-day Bingo thing, so it all made way more sense). And we picked up the antibiotic on the way home, so I have that.
I feel like an idiot for going through all that for no real results, but damn, can you really blame me? My mom's ego trip was not worth more than my desire to make sure my health was okay. We'll see what my doc says whenever he gets to see my foot in person.