License to Ill: Not The Good Kind

I am healed! After a few crazy weeks I am back to being mostly myself. I still have a gross leg wound, but it’s nowhere near the disgusting leg wound that it was. I’m walking normally, my energy level is back, and in a few hours my antibiotic regimen is complete. I’m feeling pretty good as long as I don’t stop and contemplate all of the work that I need to catch up on in the next few weeks. So I won’t.

I have a ton of appointments in the next few weeks, many of which I will have to cancel now that my work schedule has returned to the normal 12 hour days. The strangest things that happened during my illness are the ones no one wants to meet about, which I don’t understand. All of the heart issues worried me more than the infection, and that has been totally ignored. The sepsis was scary, and that hasn’t been mentioned. In fact, of all of the things on my hospital paperwork, only the original leg wound is getting any attention at all. Because it’s the most visible?

Overall I can’t complain, I think the care I got was good. I was very concerned about the quality of care here, considering how rural it is. (Below: my image of a central New York ICU ward) But despite my concerns they seemed pretty on the ball. My one big concern is that I got several different opinions on what was going on and never really got a straight answer. But I guess that is to be expected when a lot of weird stuff is going on in your body. And I’m better now, which is what matters.

It’s amazing how fast these things can happen. When I really felt bad in the hospital I was too out of it to be really scared about my health. I found out later that the most dangerous time was the evening I just zoned out and watched college football. I’d be feeling pretty stupid if the last thing I did on Earth was watch a horrible Alabama game. The next day, when I did get concerned, I wasn’t scared. I just wanted to rest and chat. I get really talkative when I’m ill. So everything really bad that could have happened would have happened while I was least expecting it. Maybe there is some kind of metaphor there. At the very least it’s an argument for living your life without regret. If things had gotten worse, I’m really happy that I had made some of the choices I had made. I wouldn’t regret being broke, or not owning a home. I’d be happy for Jaime and the kids. For my experiences. For traveling and eating good food. The great part about these scares is they make you appreciate life. And in my case, they make you proud of what you have worked to have in this world, and happy you invested in yourself and not your stuff.

Also they make you want to listen to Beastie Boys.

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