[23] Interludes of life.

I have a job interview tomorrow, and because the universe is a cruel and unfeeling entity I’ve spent the major portion of the night wing-manning my housemate in the ER because he decided to acquire CELLULITIS OF THE FACE.

OF THE FACE.

Throat, specifically, because he has a special, special immune system fashioned on the French model of cheese-eating surrender monkey, i.e. totally ineffective at fending off invaders. Seriously, his whole throat went from perfectly fine to OMG red-and-painful-and-swollen in less than an hour. At midnight. Because it has a sense of drama.

He attempted to call a doctor friend, but couldn’t get through. And then a nurse friend, who said GO TO THE HOSPITAL WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR MOVE YOUR BUTTS.

Several-hundred forms, one cat scan and a prescription of antibiotics later, we are home.

The nurses and staff were absolutely excellent about addressing Z by his preferred name and pronouns, which was awesome and made the whole experience much less stressful. Z seems to be mostly fine, if still painful and a little miserable, but he’s bearing up like a trooper. If I was in his shoes I’d be waving my arms at strangers in the street and yelling “CELLULITIS OF THE FACE!” a lot, in between bouts of rocking in the fetal position. But I am not quite so hardcore.

And now to bed to catch four hours of sleep before the morning.

Job interview! Wish me luck.

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