Last week, my wife posted an article about traveling with chronic pain, chronic fatigue, and fibromyalgia on our couple’s blog. This week, I posted from the caretaker perspective. She has gotten better about travel, but still has a tendency to over-extend herself, which is where I come in to play. Of course, sometimes my reminding her that she has real limits ends up in a minor pout.
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Well, a few days ago, I thought I had gout. Eight doses of intravenous antibiotics, five days, four nights, and one surgery later, we have come to determine that I assuredly did NOT have gout. I had a staph infection at the distal joint of the first metatarsal. In other words, I had a nasty infection at the joint at the base of my big toe on my left foot. If you really want, I’ll share pictures. But only if you ask privately, because it’s not pretty.
I wish that I had spiked a fever or something, because that would have pointed to the possibility of infection. My white blood cell count was (only ?) 15.4 which is a little high, since the normal range is 4.5-11. That, however, could be attributed to a number of things in addition to infection, so it wasn’t that much of a red flag.
So, yeah. I had an abscess on my toe that made it impossible for me to walk. The bacteria turned out to not MRSA (thank goodness) but the definitive cure was to get the infection out, which is why I went into surgery. Surgery. With general anesthesia and everything? For what amounted to a damned big pimple. I have an incision that looks like it’s about 2 inches long on my foot, with 5 stitches, and a 2 centimeter opening for packing (Oh, that doesn’t feel good).