View allAll Photos Tagged oxycodone
Author Sam Quinones, who wrote “Dreamland: The True Tale of America’s Opiate Epidemic,” told a Delaware audience Oct. 27 that an influx of prescribed opiate painkillers, Americans believing they were “entitled to a life without pain,” a flood of cheap heroin from Mexico and the breakdown of community all contributed to the nightmare of the addiction epidemic. Quinones was brought to Delaware by First Lady Carla Markell and atTAcK addiction, a grassroots group of parents and other individuals who have been impacted by the epidemic. In introducing Quinones, the First Lady said “Dreamland” was a “riveting read.”
Quinones points to 1996 as the year that the prescribing of oxycodone and hydrocodone “rise like a plane taking off.” But he said it was the introduction of OxyContin by Purdue Pharma in 1996 that has caused the most harm downstream. “We would not have a heroin problem today if not for Oxycontin. … Here is a story about a drug nightmare created by the private sector.”
Quinones said there is not one solution to the addiction epidemic, but a series of solutions that communities – increased treatment services, availability of naloxone, increased prevention efforts, regulation of prescriber habits, law enforcement interrupting the supply chain, rethinking jail, respecting Public Health folks – need to take. And one overriding factor, “The antidote to heroin is not naloxone, it is community. … We spent the last 35 years in America destroying community.”
In a panel discussion that followed his talk, DHSS Secretary Rita Landgraf ticked off increased prevention, treatment and recovery services supported by the Governor and the General Assembly, but “what we want to support is communities that support recovery. Recovery lasts a lifetime.”
Don Keister, who founded atTAcK addiction with his wife, Jeanne, after they lost their son Tyler to an accidental heroin overdose, said he sees that sense of community in the group’s annual 5K, which drew 2,000 people in March 2016. Next, he said the group would like to support a sober high school.
Attorney General Matt Denn said law enforcement needs to keep interrupting drug dealers and working further up the chain. “We have to deal with the supply side. It’s critical that we do.”
Dr. Daniel Headrick, founder of Tres Vistas Recovery, said people who in recovery from heroin addiction must begin with “a 90-day brain healing project.” He said the impact on the brain chemistry from opiates is “hard to unwind.”
To learn more about atTAcK addiction:
Michael's House specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is loacted in beautiful Palm Springs, CA.
this is what happens when i'm sick and can't leave my house. i'm going to go ahead and blame oxycodone.
Michael's House specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is loacted in beautiful Palm Springs, CA.
At La Paloma, we specialize in professional help for those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addictions, in addition to mental disorders. Our drug rehab facility helps withdrawals & detox. Contact us to learn more about our rehabilitation services.
Michael's House specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is loacted in beautiful Palm Springs, CA.
Working in pharmacy...one learns many new things about his/her fellow man, for instance, even your grandma can be an oxycontin junkie. Really. It is a nasty, addictive substance that can turn even the kindest soul into a raving lunatic when they learn there are "maximum dispensing limits" to these drugs, and...trust me...I know...it's not pretty...and so....to honor my phellow pharmacy phrends...I made said sheet cake to celebrate our lives and the pills we take...
Papaver somniferum, commonly known as the opium poppy[2] or breadseed poppy,[3] is a species of flowering plant in the family Papaveraceae. It is the species of plant from which both opium and poppy seeds are derived and is also a valuable ornamental plant grown in gardens. Its native range was east of the Mediterranean Sea, but now is obscured by ancient introductions and cultivation, being naturalized across much of Europe and Asia.
This poppy is grown as an agricultural crop on a large scale, for one of three primary purposes: to produce poppy seeds, to produce opium (for use mainly by the pharmaceutical industry),[4] and to produce other alkaloids (mainly thebaine and oripavine) that are processed by pharmaceutical companies into drugs such as hydrocodone and oxycodone.[4] Each of these goals has special breeds that are targeted at one of these businesses, and breeding efforts (including biotechnological ones) are continually underway.[4][5][6] A comparatively small amount of P. somniferum is also produced commercially for ornamental purposes.
Today many varieties have been bred that do not produce a significant quantity of opium.[3][5] The cultivar 'Sujata' produces no latex at all.[6] Breadseed poppy is more accurate as a common name today because all varieties of P. somniferum produce edible seeds. This differentiation has strong implications for legal policy surrounding the growing of this plant.[5]
Description
Papaver somniferum is an annual herb growing to about 100 centimetres (40 inches) tall. The plant is strongly glaucous, giving a greyish-green appearance, and the stem and leaves bear a sparse distribution of coarse hairs. The large leaves are lobed, the upper stem leaves clasping the stem,[7] the lowest leaves with a short petiole.[8]: 40 The flowers are up to 3–10 cm (1–4 in) diameter, normally with four white, mauve or red petals, sometimes with dark markings at the base. The fruit is a hairless, rounded capsule topped with 12–18 radiating stigmatic rays, or fluted cap.[9] All parts of the plant exude white latex when wounded.[7]: 93 [10]: 32
More information can be found here:-
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.
The Velvet Mafia at Arlene's Grocery on the Lower East Side of New York City 2005. The Velvet Mafia and Dean Johnson appeared in the 2001 documentary film Freaks Glam Gods and Rockstars ... The NYC Story.
The 46-year-old nightlife icon had consumed a toxic mix of oxycodone and four other prescription pills before he passed away.
Johnson, a 6-foot-6 drag queen and paid escort, had traveled to Washington to comfort a friend after a man had died in his apartment from an apparent drug overdose just three days earlier.
Authorities said that man, Jordan Conklin, 26, had died after consuming a lethal combination of alcohol and oxycodone.
The owner of the apartment, Steven Saleh, 47, was not charged in either death.
Dean Johnson's body was found
09/20/2007
Envoy Towers
2400 16th St. NW
Washington, D.C. 20009
The Velvet Mafia
Dean Johnson
Arlene's Grocery
95 Stanton St
New York, NY 10002
212-995-1652
julia@arlenesgrocery.net
Photo
New York City USA
05-03-2005
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.
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.
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.
Papaver somniferum, commonly known as the opium poppy[2] or breadseed poppy,[3] is a species of flowering plant in the family Papaveraceae. It is the species of plant from which both opium and poppy seeds are derived and is also a valuable ornamental plant grown in gardens. Its native range was east of the Mediterranean Sea, but now is obscured by ancient introductions and cultivation, being naturalized across much of Europe and Asia.
This poppy is grown as an agricultural crop on a large scale, for one of three primary purposes: to produce poppy seeds, to produce opium (for use mainly by the pharmaceutical industry),[4] and to produce other alkaloids (mainly thebaine and oripavine) that are processed by pharmaceutical companies into drugs such as hydrocodone and oxycodone.[4] Each of these goals has special breeds that are targeted at one of these businesses, and breeding efforts (including biotechnological ones) are continually underway.[4][5][6] A comparatively small amount of P. somniferum is also produced commercially for ornamental purposes.
Today many varieties have been bred that do not produce a significant quantity of opium.[3][5] The cultivar 'Sujata' produces no latex at all.[6] Breadseed poppy is more accurate as a common name today because all varieties of P. somniferum produce edible seeds. This differentiation has strong implications for legal policy surrounding the growing of this plant.[5]
Description
Papaver somniferum is an annual herb growing to about 100 centimetres (40 inches) tall. The plant is strongly glaucous, giving a greyish-green appearance, and the stem and leaves bear a sparse distribution of coarse hairs. The large leaves are lobed, the upper stem leaves clasping the stem,[7] the lowest leaves with a short petiole.[8]: 40 The flowers are up to 3–10 cm (1–4 in) diameter, normally with four white, mauve or red petals, sometimes with dark markings at the base. The fruit is a hairless, rounded capsule topped with 12–18 radiating stigmatic rays, or fluted cap.[9] All parts of the plant exude white latex when wounded.[7]: 93 [10]: 32
More information can be found here:-
Michael's House specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is loacted in beautiful Palm Springs, CA.
At La Paloma, we specialize in professional help for those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addictions, in addition to mental disorders. Our drug rehab facility helps withdrawals & detox. Contact us to learn more about our rehabilitation services.
The Velvet Mafia at Arlene's Grocery on the Lower East Side of New York City 2005. The Velvet Mafia and Dean Johnson appeared in the 2001 documentary film Freaks Glam Gods and Rockstars ... The NYC Story.
The 46-year-old nightlife icon had consumed a toxic mix of oxycodone and four other prescription pills before he passed away.
Johnson, a 6-foot-6 drag queen and paid escort, had traveled to Washington to comfort a friend after a man had died in his apartment from an apparent drug overdose just three days earlier.
Authorities said that man, Jordan Conklin, 26, had died after consuming a lethal combination of alcohol and oxycodone.
The owner of the apartment, Steven Saleh, 47, was not charged in either death.
Dean Johnson's body was found
09/20/2007
Envoy Towers
2400 16th St. NW
Washington, D.C. 20009
The Velvet Mafia
Dean Johnson
Arlene's Grocery
95 Stanton St
New York, NY 10002
212-995-1652
julia@arlenesgrocery.net
Video
New York City USA
05-03-2005
The Canyon specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is located in beautiful Malibu, CA.
Losing 136 lbs. in a year and four months has kicked my gallbladder's ass. I had my first attack last December. The second, March. The third, the end of June. The fourth, the beginning of July. The fifth & sixth, four days apart. The seventh, on August 14th. The eighth, this morning. The ninth, this afternoon. The tenth, this afternoon.
I've had a few scans done, next up is a hospital visit to do some more indepth tests. And then? Surgery!
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.
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.
Michael's House specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is loacted in beautiful Palm Springs, CA.
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.
Foundations Outpatient specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is loacted near Atlanta, GA.
Michael's House specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is loacted in beautiful Palm Springs, CA.
The Velvet Mafia at Arlene's Grocery on the Lower East Side of New York City 2005. The Velvet Mafia and Dean Johnson appeared in the 2001 documentary film Freaks Glam Gods and Rockstars ... The NYC Story.
The 46-year-old nightlife icon had consumed a toxic mix of oxycodone and four other prescription pills before he passed away.
Johnson, a 6-foot-6 drag queen and paid escort, had traveled to Washington to comfort a friend after a man had died in his apartment from an apparent drug overdose just three days earlier.
Authorities said that man, Jordan Conklin, 26, had died after consuming a lethal combination of alcohol and oxycodone.
The owner of the apartment, Steven Saleh, 47, was not charged in either death.
Dean Johnson's body was found
09/20/2007
Envoy Towers
2400 16th St. NW
Washington, D.C. 20009
The Velvet Mafia
Dean Johnson
Arlene's Grocery
95 Stanton St
New York, NY 10002
212-995-1652
julia@arlenesgrocery.net
Photo
New York City USA
05-03-2005
Michael's House specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is loacted in beautiful Palm Springs, CA.
Hypodermic needle drug use on the streets of Hudson Yards Midtown New York City USA June 22nd 2020
Coronavirus COVID-19 SARS-CoV-2 Civil Disobedience Hudson Yards New York City Summer 2020
Public - drug abuse - violence - looting - crime - dangerous used drug needles left on the streets on Midtown New York City
Closest address
The Lewis Rentals
411 W 35th St,
New York, NY 10001
( built in 2018 )
West Midtown Medical Group
Opioid Treatment Program
311 West 35th Street,
New York, NY 10001
Dyer Avenue at West 35th Street between 8th and 10th avenue
Photos May 2nd 2020 to July 15th 2020
#Coronavirus
#Coronavirus
#COVID19
#SARSCoV2
#Methadone
#Heroin
#Morphine
#Oxycodone
#Hydrocodone
#Fentanyl
#Opioid
#HypodermicNeedle
#HypodermicNeedles
#Hypodermic
#Needle
#Needles
#NYC
#NewYorkCity
#HelloHudsonYards
#HudsonYardsNYC
@NYGovCuomo
#NYGovCuomo
#AndrewCuomo
@NYCMayor
#NYCMayor
#BillDeBlasio
@NYCGOV
#NYCGOV
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NYCCovid
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#USACovid
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@mtanyctransit
#VirusCorona
#VirusCoronavirus
#DepartmentOfHealth
PPE
PersonalProtectiveEquipment FaceMask
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Covid Testing
@ny1
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.
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.
Michael's House specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is loacted in beautiful Palm Springs, CA.
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.
The Velvet Mafia at Arlene's Grocery on the Lower East Side of New York City 2005. The Velvet Mafia and Dean Johnson appeared in the 2001 documentary film Freaks Glam Gods and Rockstars ... The NYC Story.
The 46-year-old nightlife icon had consumed a toxic mix of oxycodone and four other prescription pills before he passed away.
Johnson, a 6-foot-6 drag queen and paid escort, had traveled to Washington to comfort a friend after a man had died in his apartment from an apparent drug overdose just three days earlier.
Authorities said that man, Jordan Conklin, 26, had died after consuming a lethal combination of alcohol and oxycodone.
The owner of the apartment, Steven Saleh, 47, was not charged in either death.
Dean Johnson's body was found
09/20/2007
Envoy Towers
2400 16th St. NW
Washington, D.C. 20009
The Velvet Mafia
Dean Johnson
Arlene's Grocery
95 Stanton St
New York, NY 10002
212-995-1652
julia@arlenesgrocery.net
Video
New York City USA
05-03-2005
Michael's House specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is loacted in beautiful Palm Springs, CA.
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.
Michael's House specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is loacted in beautiful Palm Springs, CA.
Michael's House specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is loacted in beautiful Palm Springs, CA.
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.
Michael's House specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is loacted in beautiful Palm Springs, CA.
Michael's House specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is loacted in beautiful Palm Springs, CA.
Michael's House specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is loacted in beautiful Palm Springs, CA.
Michael's House specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is loacted in beautiful Palm Springs, CA.
The Velvet Mafia at Arlene's Grocery on the Lower East Side of New York City 2005. The Velvet Mafia and Dean Johnson appeared in the 2001 documentary film Freaks Glam Gods and Rockstars ... The NYC Story.
The 46-year-old nightlife icon had consumed a toxic mix of oxycodone and four other prescription pills before he passed away.
Johnson, a 6-foot-6 drag queen and paid escort, had traveled to Washington to comfort a friend after a man had died in his apartment from an apparent drug overdose just three days earlier.
Authorities said that man, Jordan Conklin, 26, had died after consuming a lethal combination of alcohol and oxycodone.
The owner of the apartment, Steven Saleh, 47, was not charged in either death.
Dean Johnson's body was found
09/20/2007
Envoy Towers
2400 16th St. NW
Washington, D.C. 20009
The Velvet Mafia
Dean Johnson
Arlene's Grocery
95 Stanton St
New York, NY 10002
212-995-1652
julia@arlenesgrocery.net
Photo
New York City USA
05-03-2005