On the other hand, she was pretty adamant that no bandages (and use of the compression sleeves) were better than bad bandages, and strictly enjoined me to keep my fingernails away from the skin of my legs. I was pretty appalled at how they looked - I didn't think I'd scratched them up that badly, but there were plenty of scabs that said otherwise, as well as an open wound on my foot. I didn't blame her in the least for putting gloves on...I know I don't have anything in my blood she can catch, but why take chances?
Even allowing for accidental self-inflicted damage, the legs look pretty iffy. The swelling is down, of course, but the skin does not look good at all on either of the legs. Well, we shall see what happens. What really needs to happen is for me to stop messing with my legs, because every time I scratch them the skin opens up. Every time the skin opens up, it gives all manner of bacteria the chance to slide on in and wreak havoc, and one of these days I'm going to hit the bacterial jackpot and wind up with something that antibiotics can't stop. It's one thing to joke about swapping this crappy right leg for a stout wooden peg, but I doubt I'd find it so funny if every day was Talk Like A Pirate Day for me.