I don’t know if it was survivor’s
guilt or depression or what it was, but a darkness settled over me and I almost
wanted to give up and just slip away. I had to consciously and with
determination, fight that feeling. The pain in my shoulder was not helping at
all and I kept having to be taken for various tests. I was unable to move on my own and they would
strap me into a patient lift to move me onto a stretcher to take me for x-rays,
CAT scans and ultrasound tests. I’m
surprised I didn’t glow in the dark from all the radiation I absorbed.
 |
| NOT LOOKING OR FEELING TOO WELL HERE |
The patient lift, or as I called
it, “The Crane” caused me intensely new levels of pain. No amount of drugs could help that. Not injections of freezing or painkillers
would do it. I just toughed it out as
best I could and cooperated in every way possible. I never complained, I just wanted to help my
care team, as they were helping me. I
always worried if I was being a pain in the ass and felt guilty anytime I was
forced to press the call button. I even
asked the nurses if I was annoying and they told me I was amazing, a model
patient and a pleasure to look after.
That made me feel better.
There was an underlying worry
among all of them that they were going to lose me as I was still in extreme
danger of slipping over the edge. The
danger was all too real, and in some cases of sepsis, no amount of anti-biotics
will work. Apparently, I was fortunate
as I am still here, but it was a complete unknown at this stage.
Food was something I did not want
at all and I went 5 full days without eating a thing. At lunchtime on day 6 Nurse Tim, who I greatly
respected, got mad at me and gave me shit.
He told me if you want to get better you must start eating. He then sat down and began to feed me and
stayed until I finished the meal. I can’t
even tell you what that first meal was, but I ate it all and I started to feel
somewhat better almost immediately.
Better is a term I use loosely here as I was still in extreme danger.
 |
| FEET ROUGHLY THE SAME SIZE |
To illustrate the difference
between medical personnel and bureaucratic administrators, I had the hospital
administrator come into my room within a few days. I’m still extremely sick and heavily drugged
and she’s asking where I live and preparing to have me transferred closer to
home. As she left my room I heard my
nurse and a Doctor arguing with her.
She’s wanting to transfer me, and they are trying to explain to her that
I am still touch and go and too sick to move unless by helicopter.
She wasn’t prepared to spend that
kind of money and said it would be done by ambulance. Things were getting quite heated outside my
room and I heard the Doctor yell at her that if you move him now, you will kill
him, and it will be on your head. I
guess the Doctor must have won that argument as I ended up staying two weeks
until I was much more stable.
Initially when I was brought in,
it was my left foot that caused my sepsis with the skin off my big toe and the
ball of my foot. The photos show both my
feet at relatively the same size. Very
quickly however, my right foot began to swell for some unknown reason and I was
being told it was gout. There was
mention made of Charcot Foot. I
literally was diagnosed with so many diseases and disorders that I couldn’t
keep track.
In any case my right foot swelled
up like a balloon to about three times its normal size and one afternoon as I
was looking at it a giant pus bubble formed.
I pointed it out to the nurse and said, “doesn’t that look more like an
abscess that needs to be drained?” and as I said it, the bubble burst and
started draining. They put an absorbent
pad under it and it drained for the rest of the day and all night. The following morning, a surgeon came into
the room and put two small incisions in my foot, one at the top and one at the
bottom to help it drain.
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