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In March 2017 I decided to knock a bucket list item out and drive Route 66. Along the way a photographer friend and I were checking out some rather dirty mining communities north of Area 51 in Nevada. On the drive home my nose kept itching and became inflamed. I didn’t think much of it though. I was generally sore from driving thousands of miles and hiking from sun up to sun down during the whole trip.
Oh, did I mention I’m a Type 1 Diabetic? Also that I have a morbid fascination with medical forensics? Well I couldn’t resist documenting my struggle with MRSA.
On April 4th I noticed a pimple growing on my inner left wrist and it popped. It then started itching and getting really red, to the point where I immediately went in to urgent care. The doctor looked at it, said it was an ingrown hair, and sent me off with an antibiotic. I knew she was wrong.
Every day I called the nurse and told her it was getting worse. A week later I sent photos to my doctor, who had me come in right away. The infection on my wrist had grown into a 4x3cm oozing solid mass of itchiness and pain. He said, “that’s really messed up” when he looked at it. A few minutes later he came back and sent me to the hospital down the street.
While there the nurses and doctors, even ones not assigned to me, came to look at the infection. Within a few hours I was in the OR getting it removed. However a week later I needed a skin graft to cover the exposed area due to tissue necrosis. They took a slice of skin from my stomach and stapled the area up.
So after two surgeries I start to feel better. I took some time off of work and spent the days loaded up on Oxycodone (which I hated) and antibiotics. Things started getting better. Until…
May 4th I went in for a follow up examination and it was like any other. Only they forgot to take the staples out of my side and stitches out of my hand. I was too loaded up on Oxycodone and I really didn’t question their judgement. But the stitches and staples were supposed to come out between 10-14 days.
Type 1 Diabetics have a depressed immune system and are at risk for infection. Even more so with wounds that pierce the skin. While things were getting better after the first two surgeries, they soon took turn for the worse.
On May 27 I went in for a checkup and the nurse asked when the stitches and staples were removed. I responded that they were still in. She asked when I had my surgery. I said the 24th. She then asked… “Three days ago?” I responded, “No, April 24.” It was clear she knew an error had been made. After looking at the medical notes in more detail she noticed that I was ALSO a Type 1 Diabetic and audibly gasped.
I cursed like a sailor when every one of those 16 stomach staples came out. On top of that I pointed out that a new pimple, just like the original, was growing on the top of my left wrist. The doctors were very concerned and rightly so. It grew into another massive MRSA infection that required surgery.
Along the way I was also worried about other pimples that appeared on my feet and hands. But these disappeared as I was taking more oral antibiotics. During this time I was also getting daily antibiotic infusions. They took an incredible toll on my right arm. It looked like I was a heroin addict with all the blown infusion insertion attempts. The nurses would not use my left arm until I begged them to one day.
The last infusion though was the roughest and never completed. As a Type 1 Diabetic I have been injecting insulin via syringe for over 20 years. Needles are not something I am afraid of. However upon sight of the infusion needle I muttered to the nurse, “I don’t feel good.”
Over the next 15 minutes two nurses kept my head up straight and applied cold packs to my neck. I could not talk at all for the next few minutes. After a while I was able to say “low blood sugar” and they checked it right away. However, my blood sugar was not low. I was having a somatic response to the sight of the needle. The nurses said I was white as a ghost during that time.
So now the fun part of the backwards American medical system begins. The bills. I’m on the hook for a certain percentage, which in the end amounts to about the same as I spent on my vacation in the first place. I am EXTREMELY FORTUNATE to have one of the best health plans since I work for UW-Madison. However, it is a huge drag to go through.
I just randomly made this... the picture is from google, I did not take it... I only added the "addicted." part in the bottom left hand corner.
Me and, me and me and Max
(Hugga mugga, hugga mug-ah)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=E2Dnm-8OEgk
In 1997-ish there was a promotion where you could send away for Max mugs. I owned two. They are long gone and my taste in coffee has changed too, but coffee is still my number one morning priority. Although I don't drink Maxwell House coffee anymore, that jingle in the link is the one I drink to.
According to my internet search, the S.S. Beaver was a steamboat owned by the Hudson's Bay Company and used to service trading posts. This mug, however, made me smirk when I saw it. Aren't there like, marketing people employed by such companies who, say, nix certain designs because immature people like me will only see it in terms of the slang? It's like all those Canadians who go down under wearing their Roots sweatshirts and having the Aussies snigger behind their back.
Beaver.
HBC should really hire some young punk who's hip to these things...
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100 Words #3 Addictive
The Hereios visit the group 100 Words.
What is it with me and older authoritative men? I can hardly explain, because I don't exactly know myself, except that I've been like this since I was a girl. Is it a blessing or a curse? A strength or a weakness? Safe or 'dangerous'? All of those things and none of those things, I suppose. All I can say with any surety is that the experiences I have had with more senior men is that they are attentive, caring, deliciously inventive, hypnotically assertive, and bloody good at what they do...
Che ci crediate no, non mi piace berli...ma mi piace molto sentirne gli aromi e conoscerne le caratteristiche, sapere come si è arrivati a quel tipo di distillato.
What is it with me and older authoritative men? I can hardly explain, because I don't exactly know myself, except that I've been like this since I was a girl. Is it a blessing or a curse? A strength or a weakness? Safe or 'dangerous'? All of those things and none of those things, I suppose. All I can say with any surety is that the experiences I have had with more senior men is that they are attentive, caring, deliciously inventive, hypnotically assertive, and bloody good at what they do...
Self-assigned creative shoot - part of a larger art piece that is forthcoming (not for a while). Thanks Nick! Strobist: one flash into umbrella, about 1/8 power. Upper camera left placement.
I was listening to a documentary on CBC radio about how the Canadian health care system doesn`t take lung cancer seriously, they don`t value early diagnosis. They were saying that 70% of those with lung cancer smoked tobacco . As a result , there was no sympathy.
The way I see it, these people, by smoking, have cut short their lives by as much as 25 years . And just at a time when they are entering retirement and being a burden on the private and public pension systems. It`s just another conspiracy theory but it almost seems like tobacco is a way of killing off alot of people at a time when they are no longer contributing to society.This includes all other cancers caused by tobacco.
Then there is the 30% of lung cancer victims that don`t smoke and carry the same stigma.
Ok I can see tobacco as a very profitable form of population control by government and big business, but I can`t believe so many people are so stupid and have gone along with it. And even if they see what is going on, they won`t stop. They can`t stop, they are addicted.