Live from room 403

Live from room 403

How was my weekend?  That is a loaded question.   The answer and resulting feelings may take all week to explain.  I guess I should start from the beginning.  Last Tuesday a client made me frustrated on the phone at work.  Since we are not allowed to be mean to folks on the phone, I used my foot and took my frustration out on the ground.

Yes the not quite healed broken foot.  I felt some swelling but I just figured it was my foot’s way of reminding me that it is still healing from previous stupidity.  The swelling did not seem to go down and when I came home I could not wait to take my shoes off and put my foot up.  Then I noticed some pain on the bottom of my foot.  I took my sock off to examine further and it seemed that a blister formed.

As I have stated before I think feet are gross so having to examine them is not my favorite thing.  I left the blister alone but put some topical antibiotic and dressing on top.  I thought that would be enough.  I was wrong.  It seemed to be draining every day.  There was nothing I could do to stop it.  I tried though, I kept changing the antibiotic and dressing.  Each time hoping that it would begin to heal, it did not seem to want to.

Finally Friday came along and I examined it again.  This time there were mysterious red lines forming on my foot.  This was the last straw, the final alarm.  I took myself to the ER.  Here I sit a couple of days later, typing this blog from my hospital bed, surrounded by sounds of those much sicker than I.  I am awaiting an MRI and another test to determine if I am infected, well I already know I am infected but just how deep is the infection and if my bones are.

This disease is unrelenting.  It is there to remind us every day of its presence.  I sit here with hope of being able to escape today.  I hate hospitals, most people do, but I hate the feeling of being caged and not being able to move about and come and go as I would like.  I thought I was doing everything correct this time.

Tomorrow I will write about my feelings, the feeling of knowing that this disease is here to stay and my weakness against it.  The feeling that no matter how well I do, this disease can rob you.

Filed under: Uncategorized

Tags: diabetes, diabetic, type 1, type 2

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    Patrick O'Hara

    Patrick is a Chicago born comedian. He blogs about every random thing that pops in his head. He has performed all over the Tri-State area and studied at The Second City. He gives great hugs.

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