Sorry for the unannounced but sudden cessation of shares.
Let's start this mess off by saying to all you lovable Frenz just how sorry I am to just abandon my post with no warning. Sharing here is nearly everything of value in my life:my family; my health; & my blog are what I thrive by in my waning years. Even though I have not had the wherewithall to answer all your kind comments, yet, I have read them as I can & they have each touched me in their own (your own) way,
Enough of this. What the hell, Nathan. Spill it. This tale is bound to be overly long & overly convoluted the best I try shortening it so I'll just plunge omward. I'll try to just hit all the pertinent points that I can recall through all the haze & the pain, what I can understand (medicalese???) & not get distracted too often by the still haunting rememberance, not get off on too many thoughts by the revisting of evil.
Two Tuesday's past AM, after one of the worst nights I recall of Hell's power naps, short spurts of vague sleep interupted by swirling half-wakedness, I awoke to 104.3 temperature. For the next 20+/- hours I drifted between fevered delirium to icy shivering oblivion, unable to arise. I vaguely recall rapid sweat soaked bedding & nightshirt changes or huddling under more & more blankets when I was alternately unable to get warm, arousing again to sweat soaked bedding to beginn the cycle all over again. Some time around the hour of the wolf on Wednesday AM the fever broke. I didn't seem to have any symptoms other than the overall state of feeling like home-made shit. & my right lower leg felt like a war was going on beneath the surface, under the cover of skin & muscle. With my advanced medical guesswork, I decided I didn't have the flu or Covid or any of that ilk...I think I had some kind of infection in my leg that caused the sudden extreme fever & the growing pain in my leg.
When I finally came to again Wednesday morning proper, the war in my leg had ramped up to atomic weapens & constant lazer strafing. I watched my leg twitch out on its own mini-seizure, uncontrollably rising several inches off the bedding as the bombs went off. I immediately phoned a neighbor & got a ride to the nearest Urgent Care Center. I'd never gone to one before, but even in the best of cases it takes weeks to schedule a meet with my own MD. (Black Dahlia insisted on giving it the old college try...the receptionist at my Doc said they might be able to see me in two weeks if it was an emergency or sugessted I could go to the IRMC ER if it was something life threatening),
I should drop this side note here: As for combatting the fever or fighting the leg pain on my own, over-the-counter style, because of my AFib & the fact that my own wise Physician has me on rat poison (Warfarin), I can't take any basic tylenol, motrin, aleve, etc.. Just say no to NSAIDs, Nathan.
As a result of the war going on under the surface of my leg, the surface began showing its own effects. From ankle to knee my leg now resembled a US road map of black & purple roadways striving in the best American way to feverishly connect every hamlet across this great leg nation. Road crews were contantly busy dynsmiting calf hillsides & running heavy equipment, rapidly adding more & more hideous lanes to the existing roads right before my very eyes.
After several hours of hell, as war waged & highways criss-cross leg land, I finally got to see the Zombie Medic from Urgent Care. He's not a real Doctor but plays one on TV. After pushing the pain threshhold into new unexplored territory by poking & prodding my leg, seemingly planning out the highway itenary for his upcoming family vacation across the vast American leg land, he sez:
“You allergic to anything”
“Allergic to anything?”
“Antibiotics?”
“What kind?”
“Augmented.”
“Augmented/”
“Augmented penicillin.”
“I’m good with penicillin.”
“You’ve probably got (reads TV Doctor script) cellulitis. I’ll call in a prescription.”
My neighbor took us to the nearby pharmacy & Black Dahlia grabbed the meds, then homeward. I was literally crying trying to get into our house, I fell into bed. Through fogged vision I checked out my prescription. It wasn't augmented, it was Augmentin™ (a hybrid Amoxicillin-Clavulanate combo). Take one every twelve hours for ten days. I gulped down two & scheduled the next two for 8/8. Always double up on antibiotics the first day, give 'em a chance against the invaders. I might have dissed the UC wanna-be Doc (& he never should have prescribed amoxicillin to someone on Warfarin...some kinda Vitamin K squabble they have going) but he probably inadvertently saved my leg.
Break: I know I said I'd try to be as brief as possible, & really I am, but you all know me, so ramble it does. Once more, I'll try to keep to the main plot line, but the true horrorshow is about to begin.
Thursday morning arrived as they are want to do. No real sleep & no food since this began. I would pass out for as long as exhaustion dominated pain but would wake unrested as the tides turned. My stomach refused any manner of solid but I poured down what liquids I could. As daylight heralded Thursday, I choked down another antibiotic & checked out what progress the roadcrews had made on my leg. A plethora of surprises. The leg highway of America now covered leg land from sea to putrid sea like a purple-black Walmart parking lot, yet everywhere beneath the surface tunnels were being blasted through leg muscle, drilling continued unabated. But the biggest (literally) surprise was on my outer upper calf. My leg now sported a bulging blind eye the size of a silver dollar, protruding forth, black-green with a shit brown/red iris. It was the unblinking eye of Satan's asshole's Uncle.
Phone neighbor.
Off to the IRMC Emergency Room (remembering that my Doc's receptionist had told Dahli...if it's life or death,,,she hadn't mentioned Satan's Eyeball).
They didn't even ask the usual "How can we help you today?". They took one look at my leg & wheeled me off into the bowels of the hospital. With hive-like effeciency they attached an IV apparatus to my right arm & started bottling up uncounted vials of my essence while another group with double masks & latex gloves proceeded to lance & drain the Devil's oculus of treacle thick charnel house smelling pestilence, which they quickly scampered away with (I swear I heard them cackling).
Then quiet for about half an hour, then the hive-activity re-animated at a break-neck pace. They admitted me & kept me for two days. Here's what I seem to recall.
The first wave worked in two groups. One Team attacked my left arm, prepped it with another IV set-up so they could take samples as needed (I called them Team Fluids-Out in my mind). The other Team (Team Fluids-In) draggid in IV trees & started hanging bags & hooking up as many as three drip bags at a time. They continuosly swapped out new bags as soon as one emptied. To me it seemed like total chaos but they orchestrated thir potions perfectly. Every few hours Team Fluids-Out would take more samples of my essence (or sometimes lance & drain erupting bullous baby Devil's Eyeballs before they grew leering) & scurry off.
No one ever spoke the words "flesh eating bacteria" but from what I put together from random overheard whispers was that something "like" necrotizing fasciitis was possible. Apparently I had been bitten by some unknown alien insect at the site of Hell’s Eye, The dirty bugger left behind its usual array of hitch-hikers & other insect bodily treats: protozoa; viruses; bacteria; bug slobber; etc. The initial 104.3 temp was caring host bug’s gift to her potential invading horde...the perfect incubation conditions for hatching, multiplying, mutating, cross-breeding, hybridization, & bastardization of the enemy forces. The only thing that put the brakes on the whole thing long enough to get me under Teams In & Out was the doubled doses of "augmented" I was able to choke down, Thanks, As-Seen-on-TV Doc.
Two phrases I heard bantered about with the most frequency were: "a race against the clock" & "possible amputation". Neither particularly heart warming or reassuring but I had so many unknown-to-me fluids dripping into me that I was in altered states. Some time late Saturday afternoon, Marissa (head of Team Fluids-In...Molly headed Team Fluids-Out) showed up with half a smile & sez:
"I think we did it."
They hadn't amputated my leg so I decided it was good news.
It was interesting in a dissociative kind of way to watch the drip bags come & go. There was always at least one but mostly two or thress at once, dripping at different rates set by the Team. I was often in & out of reality so I was never sure what exactly was going on at any gien juncture.
Here are a few of the things I recall well enough to rate as real:
1. One of the drip bags (or a combination of bags???) suddenly changed my vision to monochrome indigo. All the hospital white were abruptly light blue & everything else darkened into indigo. The only other color I saw for the duration of the experience was Marissa's red sweater. It appearred to bleed through beneath the indigo & make her sweater a most beautiful violet hue. Needless to say I did not mention this weirdness to either Team.
2. One of the bags made everything sound metallic.
3, At some poiin the proceedings, my potassium dropped below 4 (???) probably because of the huge amounts of antibiotics. One nurse explained that I need to swallow two tablet of potassium & that the potassium IV had a tendency to burn going in. Because of the slow-ow-ow drip rate to help keep the burning sensation managable, it was administered by itself. One hour! As soon as it started going in my arm I felt it & after only about two minutes I realized what 'burn going in' meant. It quickly progressed from Drano to battery acid. I was about ready to tap out. All they could really do was slow it even more which even to my foggy reasoning would only prolong the toture longer. Then I had a divine flash of inspiration. I moved the monitor finger clip from my right pointer to my left pointer. All the vitals display flashed off but came back on instantly the same as before. I started flexing my right fist in time with the drips & it slowly worked. It seemed to move the drop of potassium away from the entry point just enough to gradually lessen the burning sensation. Thousands of flexes later the burn was dull but managable. I hadn't tapped out.
4. Early on in my stay one of the Emergency Team (not sure if In or Out) asked what I was doing for pain. I may be crazy but I'm no fool. I know that my permanent medical record has me listed as a "juvenile drug abuser", completely unfairly, as the only run-ins I ever had as a youth (or ever) were for weed or psychedelics. I was overly cautious with my reply (if you even mention pain maintenance all they hear is "BAD DRUGS". I sez:
"I'm on blood thinners, can't take NSAIDs."
That was the end of that until...some unknown hour Friday night my eyes popped open & I was staring up, directly at the newly hung drip bag above me. It radiated a red/orange aura & contained liquid gold tinted Holy Water. As the next drip fell, I knew that some anonymous Angel of Mercy had brought me a morphine drip. Throughout the rest of the night & into the next day. bags came & went with regularity but this one bag dripped on like some slow moving sand in the hourglass of life. I got the first real sleep in many a night. The ever quiet Night Shift did their thing yet I hardly noticed. Finally Saturday mid-day the last golden droplet fell. I mourned its passing as I would a dearest friend. The lingering ghost of Morpheus helped make the passing seem less abrupt, less sorrowful.
I'd say it's about time to finish up this tale of woe. Around 5pm Saturday Marissa showed up. She sez:
"Would you like to go home?"
Sweeter words I couldn't remember at the time. They swapped out three last fresh bags. Marissa indicated she'd be back before they released me. Suddenly there was a new flurry of activity...Team Wrap & Release.
Team W&R gently disifected my lower leg with some spays & some ugly brownish/purple sludge, applied powdered medicine & slimy unguents. stuck gauze patches everywhere I'd been lanced & drained, wrapped me like a mummy's leg & quickly departed.
Sheafs of paperwork. The feeblest attempt at dressing that I wouldn't have even managed without Black Dahlia, then Marissa re-appeared with the Rolls-Royce throne of a ward wheelchair & wheeled me out to the main pick-up/drop=off area where she left me sitting in the waning evening sun waiting for our ride with only a smile & a "Hope everything goes fine," for all her hard work, turned , & walked back into the halls of her hospital ready to fight the next big battle.
A short detour to the pharmacy to pick up a satchel of prescriptions then home & somehow I don't even remember, into bed. Where I lay still, writing painfully this tale.
I perused the pills & potions when I was able & although I had no idea what most of them were (they each had their own novelas attached, all in medicalese & mainly pages warning of possible side effects). & you need not even ask...nary a pain medication in the lot. I've been gulping & slurping it all down as prescribed & I am improving (even the multi-lane leg freeways are lessening to country byways with actual hints of humanity peaking through), so...
Here's what I know: Although it was touch & go up until the end, as to saving my leg, it was no "flesh-eating bacteria".One nurse did say that there were a couple strains of nasty bacteria that unchecked would have destroyed my leg & that my lower leg muscles were more like Swis cheese than Swiss steak. Just a dose of evil entities delivered by a knife-wieelding foreign insect agent with a dirty blade.
I can still hardly make it to the bathroom adjoining our bedroom without crying. I have to sit to whizz as I can't stand, even if I could mamage to lean on my cane somehow. Yesterday I walked the house, two complete circuits unassisted. Today I went outside for the first time since coming home, made it down the four steps of our back porch & made a quick health tour of our little backyard garden before falling back into bed. Each time I pay the price but gain the improvement. PT (physical therapy) starts tomorrow, another round of prodding & fluid donations as well. My arms are so beat they're tapping the backs of my hands now. I'm hoping that PT will be brief & that improvement will be rapid.
I look at it this way: I'm alive. I have both legs (except for a mirror-image divet in my upper calf where Hell's Eyeball had been...eaten away???). I'm getting better every day. I've finished this horror story. I'm back with you all, who I sorely missed, & I'm ready to rock.
Enough then. How about share time?
For musical solace I sought out my Patron Saint, St. Paul Janeway & his band of Broken Bones. A propos to my situation. I have shouted their praises here before (& shared their mighty music) but as any true Disciple, I gladly do so again.
I followed the light of the glowing green neon cross to the intersection of Lonely Street & Desolation Row to an unmarked Revival hall. Musick poured from every edifice & drew me in. I was just in time for their latest, self-titled journey to Salvation. The purity of St. Pauls' vocals & the raw-nerve ache of Broken Bones took me down to the depths, showed me rock bottom, & then lifted me up to the firmament. The joy & agony, the love & sadness, the soothing & pain of every song washed away my lingering aches. By the end I was once more whole. All my ills were cured. St.Paul is my Soul Physician & Broken Bones mend all wounds.
I'd say it's about time to finish up this tale of woe. Around 5pm Saturday Marissa showed up. She sez:
"Would you like to go home?"
Sweeter words I couldn't remember at the time. They swapped out three last fresh bags. Marissa indicated she'd be back before they released me. Suddenly there was a new flurry of activity...Team Wrap & Release.
Team W&R gently disifected my lower leg with some spays & some ugly brownish/purple sludge, applied powdered medicine & slimy unguents. stuck gauze patches everywhere I'd been lanced & drained, wrapped me like a mummy's leg & quickly departed.
Sheafs of paperwork. The feeblest attempt at dressing that I wouldn't have even managed without Black Dahlia, then Marissa re-appeared with the Rolls-Royce throne of a ward wheelchair & wheeled me out to the main pick-up/drop=off area where she left me sitting in the waning evening sun waiting for our ride with only a smile & a "Hope everything goes fine," for all her hard work, turned , & walked back into the halls of her hospital ready to fight the next big battle.
A short detour to the pharmacy to pick up a satchel of prescriptions then home & somehow I don't even remember, into bed. Where I lay still, writing painfully this tale.
I perused the pills & potions when I was able & although I had no idea what most of them were (they each had their own novelas attached, all in medicalese & mainly pages warning of possible side effects). & you need not even ask...nary a pain medication in the lot. I've been gulping & slurping it all down as prescribed & I am improving (even the multi-lane leg freeways are lessening to country byways with actual hints of humanity peaking through), so...
Here's what I know: Although it was touch & go up until the end, as to saving my leg, it was no "flesh-eating bacteria".One nurse did say that there were a couple strains of nasty bacteria that unchecked would have destroyed my leg & that my lower leg muscles were more like Swis cheese than Swiss steak. Just a dose of evil entities delivered by a knife-wieelding foreign insect agent with a dirty blade.
I can still hardly make it to the bathroom adjoining our bedroom without crying. I have to sit to whizz as I can't stand, even if I could mamage to lean on my cane somehow. Yesterday I walked the house, two complete circuits unassisted. Today I went outside for the first time since coming home, made it down the four steps of our back porch & made a quick health tour of our little backyard garden before falling back into bed. Each time I pay the price but gain the improvement. PT (physical therapy) starts tomorrow, another round of prodding & fluid donations as well. My arms are so beat they're tapping the backs of my hands now. I'm hoping that PT will be brief & that improvement will be rapid.
I look at it this way: I'm alive. I have both legs (except for a mirror-image divet in my upper calf where Hell's Eyeball had been...eaten away???). I'm getting better every day. I've finished this horror story. I'm back with you all, who I sorely missed, & I'm ready to rock.
Enough then. How about share time?
For musical solace I sought out my Patron Saint, St. Paul Janeway & his band of Broken Bones. A propos to my situation. I have shouted their praises here before (& shared their mighty music) but as any true Disciple, I gladly do so again.
I followed the light of the glowing green neon cross to the intersection of Lonely Street & Desolation Row to an unmarked Revival hall. Musick poured from every edifice & drew me in. I was just in time for their latest, self-titled journey to Salvation. The purity of St. Pauls' vocals & the raw-nerve ache of Broken Bones took me down to the depths, showed me rock bottom, & then lifted me up to the firmament. The joy & agony, the love & sadness, the soothing & pain of every song washed away my lingering aches. By the end I was once more whole. All my ills were cured. St.Paul is my Soul Physician & Broken Bones mend all wounds.
St. Paul & the Broken Bones - St. Paul & the Broken Bones,
Oasis Pizza Records 08582CD, 2025.
decryption code in comments
Oasis Pizza Records 08582CD, 2025.
decryption code in comments
Sushi & Coca-Cola
Fall Moon
Ooo-Wee
Sitting in the Corner
I Think You Should Know
Nothing More Lonely
Stars Above
Seagulls
Change a Life
Going Back\
Be healed, he sez & I arose as from the dead.
I'm back,
NØ
