The cone of shame

I took my dog to the dog park today because I wasn't up for a walk, but wanted him to have some exercise.  He sat right next to me the whole time!  I couldn't figure out why he didn't run around and play until I spoke to my sister.
Yesterday I met with Dr. Hepworth and he told me the 3 inch fat cigar size lump on my neck is a hematoma (blood clot) from the surgery and since this is 3 weeks later he was going to have to intervene to help it along.  What he did was numb my neck, and cut about 1/8 size hole in MY NECK.  To keep this open and let the hematoma drain I have to daily dress the wound.  What this means is packing about 2 inches of sterile 1/4 inch gauze into the hole in my neck, with a little tab hanging out so I can remove it the next morning, and of course repack it.
No, this is not fun, but it is bearable.  Of course everything has to be sterile, and I have to be extra careful no to let any germs in to feast on the old blood.  In addition to this I still have no voice.  The Betty Davis comparison is getting old.
So my lovely, caring, beautiful sister figured that Gonzo (my dog) was embarrassed for me to talk because then the other dogs would look at me and he would be ashamed.  Thus the cone of shame.
Guess I should quit felling sorry for myself and feel sorry for my dog?