Wednesday, September 21, 2005
lost my planned sunday rant
Sunday was supposed to be my monthly trip into town for supplies, had the list done and the kit ready. I can and quite often stretch the visits a lot longer and nearly always do in the winter. In the summertime I don't keep more than a month's supply of dawg feed or Bugler as it tends to mold and stretching just means the dawgs get homemade and I get to recycle my tailor-mades! Trust me, recycled cigs get old in a hell of a hurry! Well, when I got out of the rack on Sunday morning and tried to stand up, all 10 toes went off like they'd been stuck in a wall socket. Couldn't make a closed fist with either hand. Dammit, gotta go through a few days of misery again. Since it usually takes most of a day to spool up to maximum, there was plenty of time to tend the ordinary chores plus position the 3 barf buckets between the bed and the bath (sometimes I don't make it), dig out a blanket for the wracking chills, and swap the regular pillows for those already ruined with fever-sweats. Yep, usual progression through the joints until the head can't be turned with a ripper fever and that oh-so mizzable nausea. Relapsing fever is a bitch and self-treatment is a particularly bad idea. It'll eventually quit or I will!
Which brought up the memory of hauling myself into the doc one evening most of 30 years ago when the pain became too damn much.. Normally it's pretty easy to get me into a doc's office - just wait until the blood loss makes me unconscious and it's easy as pie! I've been told I'm no problem and the stretcher-bearers don't grouse at all since I'm a lightweight.
Anyway, I'd gotten a stone bruise in my heel. Bare feet and construction work (I was building this house) were not uncommon and usually passed after a few days of limping. This one didn't and wound up with my heel looking like a softball. Air currents were like electric shocks. **sigh** My wife and kid's pill-peddler was not available and since there were signs of blood poisoning, decided to go to the little emergency room at the local clinic. The intern decided to follow the book for treating an abcess (it was) and since it was rather painful, started trying to force syringes of lidocaine through that quarter-inch of callus that made up for me not wearing shoes longer than he'd been alive. I'd told him to forego that in the beginning and just lance the thing and gimme the shot. He insisted, then "lanced" it by slowly feeling his way into the cyst. That boy didn't know nothin' about lancing an abcess. He gave me a prescription (no shot? Huh?) and sent me on my way. The !#$% script cost $140, some sort of 'cillin, doc's orders. The abcess blew right back up again and this time it was strictly DIY. If you want a job done right...
A few more days and the heel was much better but a minor irritation had started. Minor became kinda disturbing. Then downright perturbing. Briefs became boxers, boxers had to go replaced by a large pair of old seersucker shorts. Huge rash that rapidly turned into what appeared to be all of the hide flailed off parts of me that I still kinda felt might be useful. The family pill-peddler was available and with much trepidation, went in, holding my britches so they wouldn't have any contact and walking somewhat strangely. When the doc came in the exam room, he had half a smile on his face and told me to drop 'em. That sorry son of a bitch broke out laughing so hard he damn-near fell off the stool. If I'd been packing, he'd have caught a round right between his eyes. Ever heard the term "about as funny as a crushed nut"? Ever have a supporating rash halfway to the knees and up to the navel? Kinda the same. Between guffaws, his comment was he'd not seen a case of jungle rot that bad since 'Nam! Sorry sombich. mumble.
Turns out the script the (yankee) intern wrote was indicated for deep-tissue infections like the abcess and contra-indicated where fungal infections might be a problem. I lived mostly outside. In the swamp. In Florida. Bread molds about as quick as it cools from the oven.
The doc left the room still chuckling and sent his nurse in with a couple of hypos and, of course she had a shit-eating grin on her face as well. I made some comment to the effect that if she was gonna laugh as well, I wouldn't love her no more. Yeah, started laughing about as bad as the doc, then told me to drop 'em! Arrrrgh! No dignity. None at all!
Which brought up the memory of hauling myself into the doc one evening most of 30 years ago when the pain became too damn much.. Normally it's pretty easy to get me into a doc's office - just wait until the blood loss makes me unconscious and it's easy as pie! I've been told I'm no problem and the stretcher-bearers don't grouse at all since I'm a lightweight.
Anyway, I'd gotten a stone bruise in my heel. Bare feet and construction work (I was building this house) were not uncommon and usually passed after a few days of limping. This one didn't and wound up with my heel looking like a softball. Air currents were like electric shocks. **sigh** My wife and kid's pill-peddler was not available and since there were signs of blood poisoning, decided to go to the little emergency room at the local clinic. The intern decided to follow the book for treating an abcess (it was) and since it was rather painful, started trying to force syringes of lidocaine through that quarter-inch of callus that made up for me not wearing shoes longer than he'd been alive. I'd told him to forego that in the beginning and just lance the thing and gimme the shot. He insisted, then "lanced" it by slowly feeling his way into the cyst. That boy didn't know nothin' about lancing an abcess. He gave me a prescription (no shot? Huh?) and sent me on my way. The !#$% script cost $140, some sort of 'cillin, doc's orders. The abcess blew right back up again and this time it was strictly DIY. If you want a job done right...
A few more days and the heel was much better but a minor irritation had started. Minor became kinda disturbing. Then downright perturbing. Briefs became boxers, boxers had to go replaced by a large pair of old seersucker shorts. Huge rash that rapidly turned into what appeared to be all of the hide flailed off parts of me that I still kinda felt might be useful. The family pill-peddler was available and with much trepidation, went in, holding my britches so they wouldn't have any contact and walking somewhat strangely. When the doc came in the exam room, he had half a smile on his face and told me to drop 'em. That sorry son of a bitch broke out laughing so hard he damn-near fell off the stool. If I'd been packing, he'd have caught a round right between his eyes. Ever heard the term "about as funny as a crushed nut"? Ever have a supporating rash halfway to the knees and up to the navel? Kinda the same. Between guffaws, his comment was he'd not seen a case of jungle rot that bad since 'Nam! Sorry sombich. mumble.
Turns out the script the (yankee) intern wrote was indicated for deep-tissue infections like the abcess and contra-indicated where fungal infections might be a problem. I lived mostly outside. In the swamp. In Florida. Bread molds about as quick as it cools from the oven.
The doc left the room still chuckling and sent his nurse in with a couple of hypos and, of course she had a shit-eating grin on her face as well. I made some comment to the effect that if she was gonna laugh as well, I wouldn't love her no more. Yeah, started laughing about as bad as the doc, then told me to drop 'em! Arrrrgh! No dignity. None at all!
