The Cat Bite Chronicles Continue

I am getting better. Last night I stepped into the shower for the first time--with a plastic bag over my right hand and arm. But French baths just don't do it. This morning I went to work without the bandage--my two coworkers both winced and grimaced but they were relatively calm. When we went to a luncheon, I bandaged it but I think tonight I'll go out to dinner with it unbandaged--it needs the air, they tell me. And when I got home from work just now, I dismantled the first-aid station on the dining room table.
But it's my head that has to get better too. I who, as friends and family will tell you, harbor all kinds of fears and anxieties, have been realtively calm and strong about this, at least I think I have. I didn't panic that night and haven't since, though sometimes I'd wake at 3 a.m. with scary thoughts of how bad it could have been. But I find myself acting as if I were fragile, which I'm really not. I haven't worked out since, though I could easily ride my stationary bike and just not do the stretches. Instead I'm sleeping a little later in the mornings. I cancelled a business trip today, but the man who had arranged for the program I was to be part of was incredibly kind--he told me how sorry he was about the bite, not to worry about the programs because others would fill in. And then he said he'd be in town next weekend and could he run any errands for me! The neighbor's children, whose cat so enraged Wywy, feel that they must help me because it was their cat--and last night Alex, who's 9, rolled my garbage cart down the drivewayfor me and rewarded me with a shy smile when I thanked her. Six-year-old Hunter has come over with his mom to change the bandage, though now I can do it alone. Word has spread, and I get calls from friends who heard from friends. It's like "let a cat bite you and become an instant celebrity, if however briefly."
Maybe I'm still off center because I've heard so many stories about people who had to be hospitalized for a cat bite and I am afraid to trust that mine is healing and now infection free, or maybe it's the thought that it's my own adored cat that bit me--I can't tell you how many people have been incredulous when I say yes, I still have the cat. But it wasn't his fault. I was dumb to try to pick him up. Maybe a little of it--the disinterest in food especially--is the result of antibiotics, which I presume are fairly heavy and strong. Or maybe it's just that sense that things can go so suddenly wrong.
This weekend I'll have good friends over for a very casual supper on Friday and then a more diverse group of six for Sunday supper to celebrate the brief visit of an old friend who now lives in Alaska. Last weekend I couldn't have entertained. I didn't have the energy or enthusiasm. Yeah, I'm getting better.