The Tale of a Scab

No, I am not talking Union.
Now don't laugh, but it all started when something started growing on the end of my nose. Okay, I may be a witch but this was ridiculous and so not funny, so I scheduled an appointment with the Dermatologist. My regular doctor was out of town so I took the owner of the practice. This is a warning to all potential patients out there in the universe. You know how a doctor usually says, "This is just going to be a little pinch," and then the tears are running down your face as you try to crawl over the back of the exam chair? Well, if one asks if you had breakfast because she doesn't want you passing out on her from the pain, RUN! I mean it: RUN!
Sticking the needle in the end of my nose was just about the worse pain I have ever felt and most of you know I am no stranger to pain. Heck, I don't even feel the cats scratch me any more. A minute later my nose was numb, biopsied and I had a package of antibiotic ointment in my hand with the instructions to let it scab over or I would have to wear the bandaide on my nose for the rest of my life. That is not a good fashion statement. That package could have been nitroglycerin for all I knew, without glasses and with eyes now permanently crossed. George had to drive me home.
As it turned out, the package wasn't something fun like nitroglycerin but Bactrin and I am allergic to something it in. So, unless I wanted to look like Rudolph in a couple of minutes, I needed the triple antibiotic ointment. Dutifully, I smeared it on and by nightfall I had a nice scab to which I applied more ointment like a good little patient. By morning I had no scab. This process continued for about a week until the day of the great nap.
I am not a napper, but I was exhausted, so I laid down and Purdy von Sweets, sister to Napoleon, laid beside me. It is her favorite location and she holds onto my arm just to make certain I don't escape, claws inserted. Because I had scraped my hand, I had smeared it with antibiotic ointment, too. I awoke to my hand being zotted and claw grappling hooks holding me still.
Allow me to explain zotting. Purdy is a licker and I have super delicate skin. My dermatologist will attest to the simple fact that I am allergic to everything. Thus, the rough cat tongue is very painful for me and I scream and jerk away. Purdy doesn't like screaming and she wants her licking fix, so she developed a technique called zotting for lack of an English word. She sticks her tongue out and touches you and withdraws it quickly, moving to the next location. It's not exactly a lick but it works for us. Unfortunately she was applying claws to make certain I didn't move and she got the maximum antibiotic ointment. It turns out, as my friends have told me, cats love the stuff.
I jerked up and happened to glance in the mirror: no nose scab. Now, if the scab was falling off, I should be able to locate it in a totally white bed, right? Apparently that would apply only if I could see in Purdy's stomach. However, as one person pointed out, she certainly did a good job because you can barely see where the slice was taken off your nose.
Then I remembered the  cosmetic surgeon who operated on me for skin cancer debrading the scab to keep it from scarring. I guess I could start renting Purdy out for medical procedures.....