I woke up late, not really wanting to go back to hospital. I ate a slow breakfast as if by taking my time I could make the whole situation go away, and after finishing my omlette I would be healed. I got a slow hot shower. Poking and picking at the wound, pressing around it where it hurt to make sure it was still painful. Testing to see if it was still worth a trip into hospital. It was, it still hurt, it was still open, it still looked gross . . . I was still going.
Upon arrival I asked to see a Doctor and one A4 sheet of paper work and 10 minutes later I was laying on a bed telling the Doc what had happened. Without missing a beat he told me he was going to open the wound again, in the next breath he told me I would be in hospital for about a week.
Balls.
The thing I like about Thai hospitals is the complete lack of pomp and ceremony. If you need to be cut open, they do it right there and then. No making an appointment, no getting changed, no long discussion. I need to cut you, lay down, shut up, here I come. This refreshing attitude found me in my shorts and t-shirt being set upon by a doctor with a knife not 15 minutes after walking in the hospital. I was again injected with anesthetic and he got to work . . . and worked . . . and worked . . . and worked. I could hear snipping. A lot of it. A constant snip snippety snip, the type you would hear if you were making a snowflake out of folded paper. I could feel tugging on my jaw, snipping, pushing, pulling, yanking, probing and snipping. A lot more snipping.
At some far far point in the future he had finished. I got a nice big plaster stuck on my face and I sat up to talk to the Doc. He told me that the lump that had been getting harder and more painful was actually dead tissue. He had removed it all but wanted to keep on checking to make sure no more would develop. He also told me that the infection was very deep, and he would want to go in everyday to clean it. Nice. This meant I was once again left with a large open wound on my face. Freshly cut open, packed with gauze, and no chance of it being stitched closed again for at least a week.
Joy.