Just Call Me Seven of Nine

. . . except that I don't near have the size of boobs that Jeri Ryan has in Star Trek Voyager. You'll understand the reference here in a minute.

My wound pump, the "Vac", was delivered to my house today. There is a little suitcase, and three boxes, about shoebox size. Holy cow! So, two of the boxes have different kinds of dressings and the other box has canisters. The suitcase has the actual pump and the tubing.

So, my nurse will pack my wound with a dressing, although I'm unclear if these are the ones in the boxes or she will use others. Then, the tubing will go in through the existing hole, which will be threaded to a type of lid that will cover the whole hole. The tubing will then be outside my body, under my shirt, and connected to the pump which I will wear as a fanny pack, day and night. Apparently, I can shower with this although I assume that there will be some way to cap off the tubing and take off the pump.

As I typed that, I realized that I will have a tube coming out of my body, much like one of the Borg on Star Trek Voyager.

I guess I won't be Seven of Nine because she no longer has any tubing.

Darnit. I liked that reference.

In other news, the nurse thought the wound was already healing. A raw spot she noted on Tuesday is no longer there. My plastic surgeon's office called and stated that there was nothing growing in the culture they took from the wound on Tuesday, so it doesn't appear to be infected.

I didn't take Tylenol all yesterday and did some running around because I felt okay. Then, late in the afternoon, my forehead felt hot. My temperature? 100.9.

Okay, okay, I'll keep taking the Tylenol. Something's going on. Interestingly, my cough and chest congestion are much better. Perhaps I had a low-lying lung infection?

Ah hell. It's my blog. Call me Seven of Nine anyway. I'll be the Seven of Nine before she was changed back to human by Voyager. : )