Since I wasn’t the first patient of the day this time and I happened to be at a point in the afghan where it had fewer strands than usual, I decided to take it with me. I figured there would be more waiting time. (There was.) I don’t usually consider it a portable project but I wanted to–show off, yes, but also to sort of introduce myself with it now that we were seeing each other for the third time: this is who I am. This is what I do.

The lab report had come in this morning. Staph.

I am really lucky it responded to those antibiotics. I promised I absolutely was going to continue to follow through to the end on them.

She worked on the site some more and I’m to come back next week and the next and to wear this tape over my eyebrow for a month. It absorbs the topical antibiotic for you while protecting the incision.

I have wondered if she’s blamed herself for my picking up that infection three weeks after that biopsy. But it was in no way her fault. She had prescribed that same ointment then and I’d thought, A, it’s just a pinprick, B, antibiotic overuse is not something I want to contribute to, and C, I’m allergic to so many of those that it would just blow up and itch and we wouldn’t know for sure if it was an allergy or what and why go through all that.

Actually, in normal life I’m really good at following doctor’s orders or speaking up with questions but wow did I blow it on that one. I’m using the stuff now, that’s for sure.

Given how much she had exclaimed over the afghan when she walked in, I totally had my confirmation re knitworthiness.

So as she was getting ready to go, trying not to take too much extra of her time I told her that I’d finished this one this morning (I’d finally run the ends in) and then offered her a choice: a soft Mecha hat in earthy oranges and purples with an Arrows lace pattern to it or a leaf lace infinity scarf in a soft off-white. That one was cashmere. (I didn’t say the secret-knitter’s-word cowl because I’d had to explain that an afghan meant a blanket. Her accent is slight but that meaning for that word had escaped her education to that point. And that was okay.)

She chose the cashmere, as I was sure she would, swooning over the both of them and in disbelief that I was sharing it with her.

And now she will never have to wonder how I feel about her work. She cares and she’s good at what she does and man did it feel great to be able to offer that view of herself back to her.