Boxing Day at Sequoia

I have been on a pretty heavy duty regime of antibiotics since Friday and it is now starting to pay off. For the first time in about three weeks, I don’t feel punk.

It turns out that I – or my blood atleast – have been the host to a growing colony of Enterococcus – that is its family name, I don’t know the Christian name – that is now being beaten back by heavy doses of Vancomycin HCL and Gentamicin Sulfate given through my new PICC line. How long the colony has been there is up to question as is how it got there

Being in the hospital over Christmas has been fine which is not the say that being infected is fine; that part has been a real pain in the ass. At first, the combination of the novelty, being scared, and feeling punk resulted in my having what I could pass off for having a pretty good time but now the novelty has worn off, I feel very safe, and I feel much better.

Part of why I feel safe, is that when I say My knee hurts, a doctor show up and says Let’s run a ultrasound to make sure you don’t have a blood clot, then, when that  ultrasound shows I don’t have a blood clot, the doctor says Let’s take a blood test to see if your who-haw level is high. In the meanwhile, they don’t want me to walk until they know what the problem is.

Of course this also why I also am getting bored. Everytime I involuntary roll my eyes, a battery of doctors show up to remind me that I have a aorta valve made out of cow parts and We want to be careful.

In the meanwhile, life in the hospital is different. The temperature doesn’t change, the light level in the halls doesn’t change, the sound level – pretty high, with bells, buzzers, and calls for Code Red to Room 274 –  doesn’t change; and the level of good humor and general joy of life is extraordinarily high. I think this is because everybody is in service and it really is better to give than to receive.


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