I hate it when my wife is so dogmatic and then turns out to be so right. She didn’t take a very long look at my infected arm before rendering her diagnosis … cellulitis. And she highly suggested I listen to her and seek medical attention before I headed off on a trip to St. Louis. I always value her suggestions, especially when I feel threatened, so I trudged off to the clinic to receive a diagnosis of …

That’s right, my wife was 100% correct … again. But is cellulitis serious?

Uh-oh. Considering my case of cellulitis was spreading up my arm toward my armpit where I know my lymph nodes like to hang out (they’re kind of weird that way), I realized how in debt to my wife I was once again. A pic of my diseased arm follows for those with strong stomachs.

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Risky Blogness

I am literally risking my life by writing this blog post. That is not a lie, but surely an exaggeration. My wife has told me a million zillion times not to exaggerate. How am I supposed to write this blog if I don’t? But I am under doctor’s orders to not travel (business trip canceled), do not exert myself (what I do best), don’t type (you, the reader, would surely benefit) and see him 2 more times after already seeing him 2 times since Monday. People may soon start to talk. And it all stems from waking up to this on Tuesday …

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