[While there are photos available to give visualization to this post, I will
refrain from posting those to protect the innocent and faint of heart.]
I could entitle this post
How I Spent My Autumn in Northern Illinois, but where's the poetry in that? Not that the following has any chance of any lyrical notes...
Through some fluke, I seem to have come in contact with some bacteria, specifically Staphylococci, which decided to manifest itself on my derierre. Completely out of my sight, but over a number of weeks I was aware something was brewing . Oh, I definitely took appropriate medical and sanitary precautions; everything Mr Google recommended for treating a Boil. But, this determined little "guy" was not to be tamed.
My situation became more advanced--sitting for any length of time was impossible, and the area surrounding the Boil was inflamed. I debated which kind of doctor to see. I'd recently seen both my Gynecologist and my Dermatologist for minor reasons. I could make a case for consulting each. While this was a skin condition, my Gyn is the only female physician in my current line-up. I shied away from seeing my GP as he's much more a consultant these days, and we're talking about baring my bum!
It all came to "a head" a few Sundays ago after I experienced a low-grade fever on Saturday. CA drove me to Immediate Care. I could only travel laying on my side in the back seat.
Then, the fun began... Utter pain and dislocation. That Sunday, the ER doctor shot-up my hiney with no less than 10 injections of Lydocaine, after first warning that it was going to be very painful. He didn't exaggerate. It was excruciating. He then lanced the Boil, now upgraded to an Abscess, with a thin scalpel. I will spare us all the description of what ensued (...). Then, he packed the grape-sized hole with guaze stripping to ensure the Abscess would heal from the inside out, and prescribed a strong antibiotic and narcotic painkiller.
I naively expected that the worst was over, and we crept home to recuperate. Monday, I had to go back to Immediate Care to have the wound repacked. OUCH! No Lydocaine this time. So painful. Crept home again--creeping home encompassed me laying on my side in the backseat, trying not to roll off.
Tuesday, it was time to see my GP. He said my wound (along with camera phone photos supplied by the first ER doctor) was quite impressive. He said you really never want to impress your doctor. He then repacked the wound. OUCH! Painkillers and antibiotics continued, plus he had his nurse immediately schedule a surgeon's visit. No one expected surgery, but a surgical opinion is warranted.
Thursday, the surgeon is also impressed. She indicates that the wound must be repacked daily, and enlists CA to the task. Really. It's right there in the wedding vows. He's my hero.
Reality slowly dawned. This will not be well in a couple of days. This Abscess developed over a few weeks, and is going to take at least that long to heal. I can do almost nothing. I can sleep--except not on my back. I can read--propped just so. I can watch television--propped just so. And, I can explore the world via my hand-held electronics. All of this through a haze of drugs and pain.
Two weeks goes by slowly. The second week I begin cutting back the painkillers, and am able to speedwalk a few days with my friends. I don't dare drive while on these drugs. And, I can barely sit long enough to go anywhere. My life exists in my cotton pajamas--fresh every day, after my shower and the tortuous repacking of my wound.
Who knew that a whole month of my Autumn could disappear into the abyss. All because of an abscess.
