2014 continued

So, I am sent home, again,  and the next evening I find myself once again in emergency because my antibiotic is running out and no one has phoned yet about changing the bag.

Nothing is set up so we end up running back to emergency where they run through another dose of medication. Back home we go and that afternoon I finally receive a call about a nurse coming by to check on the wound, change the IV, etc.

Thus started my 77 days, or 11.75 weeks, or 1,872 hours, which accounted for 154 bag changes of antibiotic. Of those, the first 21 days I had someone here two times a day. I asked them to show me how to do it myself and that meant I only needed someone once a day. Then it got to every third day as the PIC line needed to be removed, the area cleaned and a new line put in. Now this just means that the PIC line itself is still in my arm, but that the parts outside my body must be changed every three days. After all, we don't want an infection there too. :-)

The part that really defeated me each week was when the  drugs were delivered. I'd look at it thinking maybe there would only be a little while longer. Like maybe this was the last week. Then I'd see the date and it would be for 9, or 8, or 7 more weeks before they thought I could stop.

In the mean time my leg took an awful, awful long time to get better. It was quite the battle we had going on there. At one point shortly after I was home again it was so swollen that my leg was actually oozing fluid. The skin was so tight it was literally squeezing it out. I told the nurse about that and he made note and called later to see how it was. Luckily that must have been where we turned the corner, because ever so gradually after that we crept forward.

Each time I went to see him, my doctor was still worried. He kept thinking he was going to have to go back in but not wanting to just yet. I finally told him to stop with the worrying because we were turning the corner. He said "you could still lose the leg." And I said "I will worry about that if the time comes." I was trying to be positive and he was try to keep me prepared. I was already thinking what would I do if I lost my leg. And then decided I would not think that way. I would keep on eating healthy and taking the antibiotics.

Mind you eating anything was a chore, let alone trying to be healthy about it. I couldn't stomach much because I felt so lousy. The good news about all this was that I lost 41 pounds from February to July.

Actually had to go buy new clothes. And as much as I don't like doing that it is even harder to do when you feel like crap.

Time to publish. Next chapter soon.