Saturday, July 31, 2010

Oh, I'm A Petri Dish, And I'm OK...

Well, I'm not really sure about the “I'm OK” bit, but the first half is true.

I had my surgery last Friday, with my trusty pseudo-sister, Claude, by my side. First, the intake nurse wanted to know if I was also a nurse.
I said no.
Next, the anesthesiologist spoke to me and discussed my medical history. Then he turned and said, “Can I ask you a question?”
Here it comes.
“Are you in the medical profession?”
I said no. I really wanted to say that, in prior lives, I was a Civil War nurse, and a Druid, but why scare the “normals” with the happy juices and the knives?

Into the OR we went, where my left foot became the “Frankenfoot” of my nightmares. My surgeon even took a picture for me.
By Monday I received a phone call from my doctor. The labs were in and I had e-coli contamination. I had to go on Ciprofloxacin.
“E-coli? I didn't rub hamburger on my foot, so how'd THAT happen?”
“It's everywhere in the environment, and your ulcer was open and wet for 5 months.”

You put your left foot in, you put your left foot out...
When I made my follow-up visit this past Thursday, news got even worse. I now had a smelly foot, and more labs. THREE different bacterias had roosted in my tootsie. Off to the Infectious Disease doctor I went last night.
Again, we ran the script....what happened, what are you taking, allergic medical history...
“Diabetes, on both sides.”
“Any Cancer?”
“I had uterine cancer almost 5 years ago. But that's not a genetic factor. I had the markers..diabetes, no children, overweight...”
“Can I ask you a question?”
Here it comes..
“Are you a nurse or something?”
“What DO you do?”
I explained I was a Commercial Lines underwriter and an author.
He asked me the subject of the books, so I told him.
“yes, Sir.”
“Wow. Good thing I fit you into the schedule tonight.”
My guess is, he is no longer focused on my potential medical background. There are bigger fish to fry.

As to my foot, I feared I was in for an IV and 2 weeks of vancomycin. Instead, we are treating the little buggers to a cocktail of Cipro and amoxicillin. Not only should it wipe clean the petri dish that is my ulcer, but also save the graft and protect me against the fifth plague of Egypt, should Jehovah decide to get peckish with America and try the 10 plague routine again.

The way things have been going, nothing would shock me.
I have another doctor visit on Monday.
Fingers are crossed.

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