View allAll Photos Tagged oxycodone
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
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.
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.
Medicare runs a black list of patients who visit multiple doctors to obtain excessive numbers of scripts for addictive drugs, such as Diazopam and Oxycodone Hydrochloride. Such patients may be heavily dosing themselves, or more likely, selling to addicts on the black market.
The program is formally called "Prescription Shopping", www.medicareaustralia.gov.au/provider/pbs/prescription-sh...
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.
A recent Vancouver Sun article by investigative journalist, Kim Bolan prompted posting 3 more Vancouver Downtown Eastside (DTES) illicit drug use photos.
1 of 3.
The DTES is the visible side of the illicit drug trade and its dehumanizing result.
This user has a hard drug pipe to snort his drug of choice, a blow torch to heat the product and a canister to refill his torch.
If you find it offensive, please move on. If you don’t want to read the entire Bolan article, skip to the final sentence, a hint to the crux of the overall problem.
Authorities charged 4 low level dealers and hope to hold them somewhat accountable in this article. That’s good. However, lawyer up and this story will have legs.
It seems upper level management in the illicit drug trade have enough levels of isolation above the street activity to escape any responsibility. Money buys obscurity and protection.
THE ARTICLE:
B.C. seeks to keep cash seized from Downtown Eastside gang
Courtesy Kim Bolan and the Vancouver Sun.
Kim Bolan is an experienced and award-winning journalist who has covered gangs in British Columbia for the past 40 years. Bolan also investigated the Air India bombing for 25 years until the publication in 2005 of her book, Loss of Faith.
The B.C. government has filed a lawsuit against a group of alleged Downtown Eastside drug traffickers, seeking the forfeiture of more than $150,000 seized from them.
The lawsuit, filed this week by the director of civil forfeiture, names four defendants that it alleges are part of a criminal organization investigated by the Vancouver Police Department.
While the group is not named in the statement of claim, details of the VPD probe outlined in the court document match an investigation into Zone 43 — a gang that originated in Montreal but has taken over the Downtown Eastside in recent years. Zone 43 has connections to B.C.’s notorious Wolfpack gang alliance.
In June, the VPD announced arrests of several Zone 43 gangsters, though they were released pending approval of charges.
The VPD said it had seized firearms, 24 kilos of drugs and $150,000 in cash during searches on May 14 in Vancouver and Burnaby.
The civil forfeiture lawsuit refers to three VPD searches done on the same date in the same cities and alleges Shayne Cozier-Flanagan, Evantee Jevontee Eustace Stoney, Tristin Johnson and Raimon Geday were “participating in the activities of a criminal organization.”
When police searched Stoney’s apartment on the 30th floor at 2388 Madison Ave. in Burnaby, they found $143,910.75 in Canadian currency and $607 in U.S. currency, the lawsuit said.
Officers seized another $5,800 at Cozier-Flanagan’s suite, also on the 30th floor, at 5665 Boundary Rd. in Vancouver, it said.
About $3,417 was seized from Johnson, who also lives in the Madison apartment, when he was arrested in the 300-block of East Hastings. Another $1,920 was found in Geday’s room in a supportive housing building on Kaslo Street, the lawsuit said.
The VPD also seized a 2017 Acura RDX, of which Stoney is the registered owner and which was used “to facilitate the trafficking of controlled substances,” the civil forfeiture director alleged.
The statement of claim notes that both Stoney and Geday have previous trafficking convictions and are banned from possessing firearms.
All four men named in the lawsuit “trafficked in controlled substances in the Downtown Eastside of Vancouver and the surrounding areas,” the lawsuit alleges.
In the Boundary apartment, police also found a money counter and business cards with the number to call to purchase drugs — known as a ‘dialer’ number.
In the Madison suite, the VPD also found dilaudid pills, oxycodone pills and “score sheets” documenting drug sales, collection and debts.
In Geday’s room, police found crack cocaine, powdered cocaine, crystal methamphetamine and another 275 dilaudid pills, as well as score sheets, bear spray and “miscellaneous drug packaging materials.”
The cash and car should be forfeited to the government because they are proceeds of or were used for unlawful activity, the lawsuit alleged.
The crimes committed include possession for the purpose of trafficking and trafficking, committing offences for the benefit of a criminal organization, conspiracy, money laundering and failure to declare taxable income, it alleged
No statements of defence have yet been filed on behalf of the four men.
Vancouver Police Insp. Phil Heard said at the June news conference that Zone 43 gangsters “pose a very significant risk to the public. They’re involved in a well-documented conflict ongoing in the province of Quebec with a rival group.”
Sources say the gang is still selling drugs in the Downtown Eastside.
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.
Dreamland: the true tale of America's opiate epidemic, by Sam Quinones (Bloomsbury Press, 21 April 2015, 385 pages, 1539 KB). Started reading the Kindle version of this only the day before yesterday and am already over 2/3 finished.
My only complaints are that different story threads are constantly jumping around (like maybe the addicts described who are desperate for a fix) and some basic facts are repeated again and again many times, as if the publisher was in too big of a hurry to edit the text more carefully. At least I haven't noticed any typos, which are annoyingly common in some Kindle books.
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.
Eh, we like to think that we can safely assume that we know what's going on inside the small-town "Pain Clinics" that we see, in dumpy-looking buildings with temporary / portable signage — that they are sales shops for unethical physicians to dish out hydrocodone etc, to any and all cash-paying customers — don't we.
-----------------------
In downtown Bucyrus, Ohio, on June 22nd, 2009, in an alley between North Sandusky Avenue and North Poplar Street, south of West Galen Avenue.
-----------------------
Library of Congress classification ideas:
RB127 Pain clinics—United States—Pictorial works.
NA9053.S7 Alleys—United States—Pictorial works.
TH4960 Garage doors—Pictorial works.
NC1002.B36 Banners—Pictorial works.
NA6212 Commercial buildings—United States—Pictorial works.
RM146.5 Medication abuse—United States—Pictorial works.
F499.B92 Bucyrus (Ohio)—Pictorial works.
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.
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.
Detail: Poppy and Bees.
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.
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
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.
according to Wikipedia:
"Epipactis helleborine (Broad-leaved Helleborine) is a terrestrial species of orchid. Its nodding flowers vary from greenish pink to purple, and it prefers shaded woodland environments.
Description
Epipactis helleborine grows to a height of 80 cms has broad dull green leaves which are strongly ribbed and flat. The flowers are arranged in a long drooping racemes with dull green sepals and shorter upper petals. The lower labellum is pale red and is much shorter than the upper petals
Distribution
It is widespread across much of Europe and Asia from Portugal to China, as well as northern Africa. In North America, it is widely naturalized mostly in the Northeastern United States, eastern Canada and the Great Lakes Region, but also in scattered locations in other parts of the continent.[6][7][8] In the US it is sometimes referred to as the "weed orchid" or "weedy orchid" and is increasingly considered invasive, in areas including Michigan, Wisconsin and the San Francisco Bay Area.
Ecology
Found in woods and hedge-banks.Eight varieties of Epipactis helleborine in central Europe (Lower Silesia, Poland) had their nectar studied and they were found to contain naturally occurring oxycodone (as well as another narcotic like opioid) in minute amounts."
Interesting !!!! oxycodone........
==================================================
I see this inconspicuous wildflower every year about this time... difficult to photograph with the IPad, in the dark ( and windy) woods where i found it yesterday... so i picked one and photographed it at home... stll not a decent photo...but here it is anyway.
It never seems to appear in any quantity around here...rarely do i see more than one at a time. Not very invasive 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.
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
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.
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.
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.
we were sitting on the roof of our schools dugout ingesting oxycodone and drinking rum from plastic water bottles
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
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 Canyon specializes in helping those struggling with drug, alcohol, and substance addiction & abuse, in addition to mental disorders. Our treatment facility is loacted in beautiful Malibu, 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
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
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.
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.
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