Well, that was fun… said no one ever.

I had an appointment with my wound care clinic last week where I was supposed to get my wounds examined, bandages changed, the whole nine yards… except that didn’t actually happen. Not like it was planned, anyway. I went to the building where my wound care clinic is and tried to let myself in for my appointment… to find out that I couldn’t actually let myself into the building because the doors were locked.

I tried to call the clinic itself and the one that’s a town over just to see if they would pick up, but no one would pick up. The sports rehab center one door down from the wound care clinic was nice enough to give me the number of the other clinic in this area, and she even gave me the hospital’s number so that I could call them. No one was that helpful, though. And no one knew why both wound care clinics in this area were closed. The hospital didn’t know why the wound care clinic(s, as we later found out) were closed. I called both of the hospitals that my wound care clinic is associated with, and they were equally confused. My primary care physician’s office was confused as well, given that I could walk a few doors down to get to them, that I did so, and that I explained the whole situation to them since they referred me. I didn’t find out until the next day that the medical director had died and that the clinic could not stay open seeing patients in the absence of a medical director. They will continue to send packages of bandages and wound-cleaning items to me in the interim, and they told me that they would call me once a new medical director had been hired and they could resume seeing patients. Will my wounds be healed by then, though? I suppose we’ll have to find that out…

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