When the driver who hit me, Emilia, visited me in the hospital, she said she would come by my house later with a necklace she'd made. That was the last I heard of her in 2005, although I received plenty of hostile letters from her insurance company. "I guess those were the gift," my physical therapist observed dryly. "You probably didn't miss her visit... You're not going a lot of places, are you?"
Offering to relieve my culinary woes on Thursday, Elvo whisked me off to Delhaize (where I immediately fell prey to my addiction to novelty and bought a filet of zeewolf [wolf fish], having no idea what it was). During that hiatus, Emilia came by. With my mouth full of kaneel-speculoos ice cream, I found a cream-colored envelope resting on the radiator. It contained a curious holiday card depicting a bunny wearing a sleigh bell in a basket with...a large earthenware pot of snow in the background? It also contained a necklace with a giant pendant. Being none too large, I never wear prominent necklaces, so first I attempted to drape it over my forehead like an exotic tiara, giggling. But the necklace slipped down... and somehow fit me well. I just don't know how or when I will wear it. I don't know what it means to me.
After a 2.5-hour wait in wachtkamer 6 in the hospital this afternoon, I was seen by a new doctor. My calf wound freaked her out... which is saying a lot, considering the giant volume of Surgery of the Anus, Rectum, and Colon sitting on her shelf. She fetched Dr. Vandenberk, who didn't see a present need for an operation. But he took a culture, suspicious of the look of the gauze.
Keep your fingers crossed for me...
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