So, among some other chronic ailments, I am a type two diabetic. As such, feet are a huge concern. I have had issues in the past relative to my other foot that were resolved back in 2009. Anyway, I inadvertently developed a small foot ulcer on my left foot back in, March of this year, under the pinky toe. I immediately went to my Podiatrist for treatment and had been under weekly treatment up until 7/2/15. In point of fact, after a skin graph and regular treatment it looked like I had one more appointment before the, Doc would declare it "healed". I went to change the dressing, a little later in the day than normal as my wife was headed to N.Y. to help with her ailing parents and noticed what looked like a "blood blister" directly above the healing one on the bottom and from experience immediately knew what that was, Fuck you, Mr. MRSA. So, the next day I scheduled an emergency appointment with my podiatrist having a pretty good idea what was coming. He immediately had me check into the E.R. At this point it bears mentioning that my podiatrist is considered one of the top doc's in AZ and he has my full faith and trust. X-rays were taken, cultures and care over the 4 mos term of treatment yet, there was no sign what so ever of the impending, MRSA infection, which brewed in the bone for 4 mos. The decision was quickly made to amputate the pinky toe and partially the metatarsal (?) bone directly connecting to it, as needed in surgery.
As amputations go, this was text book. The Doc, ID-ed some surrounding tissue as infected and began antibiotic treatments that at first went with, Vancomycin (?). A kidney Doc was also monitoring levels and noted a persistent rise in my creatin (?) levels that can be attributed to the antibiotic so, a switch was made to the antibiotic, Daptomyicin (?). Levels reduced and I was released into the wild again with an out patient course of two weeks of antibiotic infusions of this stuff. I diligently stayed the course for 7 of the ten proposed treatments. Now, this antibiotic is apparently well known for causing an array of side effects that include muscle ache and stomach problems (it was at this time that I was introduced to, Jamie Lee Curtis and the yogurt "Activia"!!! Apparently, the "Probiotics" you get from "Activia" offset two words which should never follow one another in a sentence, "Infectious" and "diarrehea". So I trundled along enduring the "side effects" and thinking it's all for the best.
Turns out that like .5% of the population is allergic to the antibiotic (Yep, you guessed it, sports fans I was to be one of "the few")) and that the same said "side effects" are, in fact "symptoms" of an allergy to the drug. Wonderful!!! On a side note, with these fucking odds on my side, there is no way I should have lost the "Grand Prize Drawing" this year!!! LOL LOL LOL So, on the morning of what would have been my eighth infusion (7/17 or 18) I was feeling just a bit peaked. LOL I called the Doc and tried to beg off the visit, but man, was I not up to snuff. After several phone calls, they convinced me to dial "911" for the very first time in my life. By the time the Fire men got there I was feeling even worse and chief among my complaints was a shortness of breath. A condition I can whole heartedly suggest you avoid at all costs.
Into the ambulance I go and we're off to the E.R. At this stage, things become a little dodgey from my perspective, but it's safe to say there was no "upside" insight. I went to several different E.R. classifications/rooms ending up in "Telemetry" where I was exhibiting an even more pronounced shortness of breath and "AFIB" just to keep things interesting for the hospital staff. They decided that I needed to be "intebated" (?) which is when they stick a tube down your mouth in an effort to keep you breathing. Thankfully, I recall absolutely nothing from this point on until later in the story. My family and the medical staff has tried to fill me in on subsequent events and frankly, I am still not sure I really want to know. I do know that the staff was very confused and that they were pumping all kinds of medicine into me, coins were being flipped and round the clock vigils being conducted. One doctor, after the fact, mentioned that at one point if you had asked 10 doctors the cause of my condition you likely would have received 9 answers at least. At some point I was placed in a "Roto-Bed" in an effort to increase O-2 to my body and was being blasted with antibiotics and steriods. Obviously, I was drugged out and banned to the "Sky of Diamonds" made famous by our friend, Lucy. Some called it an extreme allergic reaction, a medically induced coma, a form of pnuemonia, etc or any combination thereof. Whatever the official medical term, the staff was baffled and bets were being placed. I remained as such for 7-10 days (another detail I am not sure I really want to know though my family does) while the doctors tried to figure out what exactly to do about freeing up the bed for other patients to take advantage of in my stead. LOL
After reviewing various body fluid levels, symptoms, reactions, etc, on 7/27 a daring "WTF" conclusion was reached and if I have understood the three central doctors who opted for this path out of the various 10-14 other doctors involved throughout, they decided to cease any and all antibiotics in favor of "Barry Bonds Treatment" and switched to full on steriod infusion. That seemed to do the trick. On 7/28, around 3:30 am, after responding to the new course of action they decided to pull the breathing tube and I woke up with a really bad taste in my mouth and wondering what the plate number was for the truck that had hit me and where the time had gone. LOL Everybody, but me, had this big old shit eating grin on their faces and were running around alternately "High Five-ing" and hugging one another. I wanted "Ice Cream". I remained in the hospital until discharge to a "Sub-Acute facility" on 8/2, where they poked, prodded, monitored, inspected, examined and generally played "CYA", while I began the recovery process. I think I mentioned up thread a staffer advised me that 1 day in the ICU in the sort of predicament I was in would require 7 days of various therapy. Weak, is not a strong enough word to describe my overall condition.
I spent a few days at the second facility gaining back some basic strength and improved remarkably according to the medical staff. They of course were not aware of my secret weapon, which was the HUGE out pouring of affection from my friends and family and the amazing folks here at TDT.Org. I still have a long road to travel to get back to normalcy, but I am traveling it one step at a time. That is pretty much the facts as I recall them. Now, if you have questions or are looking for more detail, ask away. Just let it be known that I have chosen to place myself on a modified "Need to know" basis in some cases, I am not a doctor and as I mentioned before, in some cases even if I wanted to remember, I don't. Any P/T, OT, recovery tips or suggestions are greatly appreciated from those of you with any medical back ground. I am continuing in the "new deal", Merlin patient mode of being just the most dedicated and behaved patient I can be, following doctor's orders to a "T". This is a mode I have never employed before always "knowing" a little more than the experts. This one scared me straighter than a, Stephen King novel ever could. If this little rendition does no good for anyone in any way other than let it be a lesson on how fast things can go from relatively good and standard to bat shit bad in a heart beat. I kid you not when I tell you that they were talking the proverbial "Plug" at one point.
I am not seeking sympathy (though given the remarkable out pouring from you folks) that ship may already have sailed. Nor, do I seek to be a "martyr" or anything else. I type this largely for my own benefit and at the request of some of you out there who asked "Bill, what the hell is going on and what happened"? Also, with the hope that my detailing of the events may have a positive impact on anyone out there. That's all.
Though I am beginning the task of replying to each and every card and letter I will most likely never be able to properly thank each and every one of you that reached out in support and properly convey the positive impact it is having on my recovery. Never the less, THANK YOU, ONE AND ALL!!!!!
Originally Posted by jonp
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