My dog, Speedy Shine, got under the covers the same as he did every night. It was Sleepy Time, and that always means cuddles. But that night he started nibbling on my right foot. I shook it off a few times, but he wouldn’t stop. He never does anything like that, so I became a little concerned. I took off my sock, and I was utterly horrified.
You have to understand I’m diabetic. I haven’t been able to feel my feet in years. I have only a tingling, and I could sense the force of Speedy Shine trying to get through my socks, but I don’t react to anything else happening there. I’m unaware of it. I didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t what I saw.
There was a hole at the bottom of one of my toes. I remember it as being the fourth toe, but the doctors all assure me it was the second. I looked only for the briefest of moments, and then I put on a fresh sock and didn’t want to look anymore. I’ll take their word for it. They looked longer and more closely than I did.
My sock was filled with a horrid goo. That was singularly unpleasant. I spent a sleepless night. I was sure this could not possibly be a good thing.
I contacted my Primary Care Physician the next morning, but I led with my need for a new C-Pap, a Continuous Glucose Monitor, and wanting to get my Lantus refilled, and I asked for a Zoom appointment. I was promptly shut down. They do that only for COVID patients now. I explained it was important. I’m afraid of people. They said they would check and call me back.
My best friend told me to go to the ER, but I thought she was overreacting. I waited.
I called the doctor two days later because I still hadn’t heard back. This time I led with the toe, and the girl that answers the phone acted as though I were stupid, and that obviously I needed to go to the ER. She mentioned something called Sepsis.
I called my best friend. She couldn’t come. She also couldn’t check on Speedy Shine. She had just decided to foster another dog, and she had to get right home after work to check on how well he was getting along with her other two dogs.
One of The People on The Porch came to my rescue. She took me to the ER as early as she could that evening, and then she came and made sure Speedy Shine was all right.
I waited for nearly four hours in the ER. There were many people in much worse shape than I was. All my vitals were great. My blood sugar was fine. It was just that my toe was going to fall off. I remember hoping they would just put some tape on it and send me home.
When they called me in and saw what was happening, they admitted me immediately. I began to freak out about Speedy Shine. He would have to spend the night alone in the backyard, and I was losing it with guilt. He should never ever have to do that.
The nurses hooked me up to IVs filled with antibiotics. I sat in my room trying to decide there were worthwhile things to be found on cable, and that commercials weren’t the Scourge of All Art. To its credit USA Network played all 3 Back to the Future movies… twice. I came in halfway through II, and then I watched the others. I didn’t hate that, but I could have done without the commercials.
The nurses were all very kind. They made sure I had enough to eat, and one of them, a wonderful woman named Delaney (yes, that’s her real name. I don’t know her last name.) even went down to the soda machine for me after hours to keep me in Diet Coke. (They didn’t have Diet Pepsi. Beggars can’t be choosers.)
The friend who had driven me to the ER went to check on the dog the next day. She told me the neighbor was complaining about Speedy Shine barking. My friend explained where I was and what was happening. The neighbor still seemed cranky. She threatened to call Animal Control and have him taken away. I went into a panic. Without Speedy Shine, it’s all over for me.
The following day my best friend and her boyfriend, who had taken him for a walk a couple of times, checked on Speedy Shine, and my best friend talked to my neighbor. My best friend knew her from when she used to live here. She introduced Speedy Shine to the neighbor, and the neighbor settled down. She said she wouldn’t call Animal Control. My stress level dropped significantly.
Another of The People on The Porch heard about my plight, and she hired her niece and a friend to drive out from Las Vegas to take care of Speedy Shine. That also dropped my stress level significantly. She conducted a fundraiser that allowed me to get a ton of food, a beautiful new microwave, some utensils, some candles, and some new sheets. They also cleaned my house from top to bottom. If I ever got out of the hospital, my home and my dog would be fantastic.
Her niece had to leave before I could get home, so Sherlock, The Mystery Patron, moved in with Speedy Shine even though she’s allergic to dogs. I guess he’s not hairy enough to cause her significant issues.
Throughout all of this, I was lying in a hospital bed… alone. My best friend couldn’t take me to the ER. She couldn’t come check on me that night. She couldn’t come when I had an MRI the next day. She couldn’t come when the surgeon who read the results told me I had a bone infection and that I could choose between amputation and six to eight weeks of IV antibiotics at home. I would be out of the hospital more quickly with amputation, but she recommended the IV. My problem is that I’m very bad at those kinds of things. It’s all I can do to remember to take my Lantus every night. I don’t know how to hook all that stuff up, and I cringe any time anyone inserts an IV into me. There were more than ample opportunities for me to screw it up and lose the toe, anyway. And I missed Speedy Shine so much it was physically painful. I discussed my options with several people, including my best friend, and while many of them also recommended the IVs, I didn’t think it was wise. I went into surgery alone. I came out to an empty waiting room. I learned, when I regained consciousness, however, that I still had all my toes. My surgeon is a genius. She managed to remove only the part of the bone that was infected, and she left the rest of it. She extracted a tiny piece of the “good bone” to test it. Thank you, Dr. Montes, for your brilliant work. I couldn’t be more grateful.
I shared the information on Facebook, and my friends were very kind. They expressed their relief and their pleasure that I was relatively all right.
My best friend visited me only twice during the entire adventure, and even then, I had to argue with her to get her to come. She had too many more important things to do. Her best friend needed to try on some dresses. She had to look at them with her before she could come by the hospital. That argument was the only time my blood sugar got too high while I was in the hospital. It ended up with us fighting while she was sitting in the parking lot of the hospital and me telling her not to bother to come up. For reasons passing understanding, she came up anyway, half an hour later. She had gotten me Church’s Chicken, which was kind, but she sat so long in the car that the food was ruined by the time I got it. To this day, we disagree about how she was showing me empathy. And then she learned a little about it.
Her legs were tingling. She was losing feeling in them. Something was obviously wrong. She went to doctors in search of answers. I was on the phone from my hospital bed with her as often as she would pick up, and I recommended getting more medical opinions. She thought she had Guillain-Barre syndrome. It can cause paralysis, but it will only last a month or so. The final diagnosis was worse. We’ll get to that in due course.
I sat in the hospital, hooked up to IVs, for another 48 hours after surgery waiting to see if the little piece of “good” bone Dr. Montes extracted would grow cultures from any left-over infection. The next morning she came in to tell me the results. There was no infection left. I was safe. I could go home.
Now I just had to wait for some company to call me to get a $9.00 co-pay for the walker I needed. I waited for 45 minutes. I waddled out to the front desk with the walker the hospital was letting me use. I offered to give them cash or my debit card so I could go. Before the nurse could answer me, the man from the office came out and started yelling at me. He told me they would call. I said he had told me that an hour ago. He said it was only a half hour, and he stormed off, leaving me no further means of communicating with him. I waited another 15 minutes, and then I called a friend, who I only that night learned was actually Sherlock, The Mystery Patron. I asked her to get me the cheapest walker she could find and come and get me out. She was there 20 minutes later with a Goodwill walker. She became my new hero. We left.
She took me to get prescriptions and we grabbed some Taco Bell before we got home. I thought Speedy Shine was going to have a heart attack when he saw me. I’ve never seen him so happy. I don’t recall having been that happy, either, in quite some time. It was a joyous reunion.
Sherlock spent the next couple of days with me, getting me the prescriptions that hadn’t been previously available, making me lists of what to take and when, and providing me with psychological counseling of a sort one wouldn’t expect from someone so young. Obviously, I developed stronger feelings for her than I was comfortable having, but I dealt with them. I’m Fred. I don’t have anything to do with women anymore.
My best friend called me the next day with devastating news: she has Muscular Sclerosis. This is a lifetime diagnosis, and there is little to be done beyond controlling symptoms. She needed to spend time hooked up to an IV to get infusions that would, we hoped, help her. I’m brokenhearted for her. I’m doing all I can to help and to show her the empathy I suspect she needs.
She originally intended to keep teaching and do her infusions between classes. I talked her out of that. This is a time when she has to think of herself first. The infusions turned out to be more difficult than she had anticipated. She experiences pain from them sometimes. There was no way she could have handled this in her classroom. We’ve discussed how the universe reacts to things. She understands a little better what I went through in the hospital, but, of course, her MS is much worse than my infection. We’ll be doing a GoFundMe to help with her medical bills soon. I hope you’ll help. She’s already out a couple thousand dollars, and we’re just beginning. I’ll put it on my Facebook page when she’s ready.
Today I’m safely home. I’ve talked to a Social Worker who thinks I can get help from Meals on Wheels, perhaps find a place that will allow me to pay a third of my income as rent, and get some help with bathing, cooking, and cleaning. I talked to a Physical Therapist who is helping me to walk with my walker. The surgeon is pleased with how well my toe is doing. She rewrapped it, and she put a splint on it to keep it safe.
I’m playing Sara Niemietz’s new album, “Superman” repeatedly. It helps to keep me grounded, and “Four Walls” is reminding me that things will get better. I secretly believe, without any evidence whatsoever, that it was written for me. It’s an absolutely Fred song. I’m hoping to have an autographed copy next week. If you haven’t heard it, you really need to check it out.
I have kind friends who make my life better. I’m grateful to all of you for listening to my show and supporting me in so many ways. I love you all.
https://open.spotify.com/episode/5eRJpDyDpFzwOET23iud7M?si=8de852e01c664008
Fred's Thoughts 