Here’s What A Little Insect Bite Can Do…

Gross, huh?

Gross, huh?

On March 21st, I found some sort of bug bite on my right thigh while I was getting my PJ’s on.  I didn’t think too much about it and went to bed.

The bite  progressively grew bigger through the weekend. I kept hoping the bite would miraculously go away by itself!  There was no chance of that happening, much to my dismay.  

The following Tuesday,  I finally caved in and had one of PA’s  make me a doctors appointment.  They offered me an appointment April 15th.  My PA said, “No,  she needs to get in sooner; she is in pain.” I got an appointment  for that next Thursday. 

By the time I saw a doctor, I not only had a spider bite the  size if a baseball, and because I didn’t see the doctor right away I had also contracted cellulitis. I received a prescription  for antibiotics and a stint of time with my leg elevated, and a ten  minutes with my heating pad every few hours.  the Doctor did warn me the infection would get worse before getting better .

The bite was effecting the way I moved about. Normally, it’s no problem moving around the house in my manual wheelchair, by using my feet to propel myself around.  However, with a huge abscess  on my leg, I didn’t want to move around any more than I had to, because it sure did hurt when my left leg rubbed up against the abscess. I used my power chair more. I had to have extra support when I needed to transfer from one seat to another. It bruised my ego to have help getting in and out of bed, but it was better than falling and hurting myself even worse!

The cellulitis plagued me more than the spider bite. When I sat up, the cellulitis became quite uncomfortable. So, I was driven to utilize my recliner. I caught up on all the shows I watch; like Bones, Castle, and Gray’s Anatomy. Then I became engrossed in, Call The Midwife, that I saw while prowling through the shows on Netflix. I’m forever grateful to my friend who suggested I invest in a Roku streaming device, during the many times I would complain of having to watch one too many commercials, and paying too much for cable. These days, I have to force myself to watch some regular TV, if for nothing else then to keep current in the world!

Getting back to The spider bite. Two days later, the bug bite looked worse. My sister was called to get her opinion. She took one glance at it and said, “I’m taking you to the ER!” I protested, but it fell on deaf ears. I had nothing to eat that morning, and in hind sight I should have insisted that I eat something first.

The ER doctor looked too eager to pop something! I thought the proper procedure was to lance an abscess, and then gently squeeze the puss out. Nope! He put both of his thumbs on either side of the abscess and squeezed! It was extremely disgusting! The abscess erupted like a volcano! A flow of puke green cottage cheese curds cascaded down my leg. Seriously, I wanted to kick the doctor in his sensitive place; it hurt so badly! My foot was in an excellent position do so. I didn’t, and I’m so glad I didn’t, because as soon as he was done with me a real emergency came in. I never saw him again.

I wasn’t quite done grossing out my sister for the day. Before the doctor left, he wanted me to take my second antibiotic of the day, but then he added another antibiotic and a Percocet to the mix. I was rather leery about taking medication on an empty stomach. The nurse suggested I could have a sandwich, but all she brought me was an applesauce, and a package of crackers from the waiting room.

Twenty minutes later, all bandaged and medicated up and on the way out to the car; I started feeling hot and dizzy. As soon as my sister started backing out of the parking place, I threw up on myself (It was my brother-in-law’s car so I needed to preserve my good grace to ride in it.) My sister had planned on taking me on a few errands, but she quickly changed her mind. I was okay on the straight road, but once we reached my little, curvy street I lost it big time, but since I didn’t have anything of substance in my stomach, it didn’t smell. I got home around three, and I finally stopped up heaving about nine. I felt absolutely miserable!

I have two pieces of advice for you. If you are unfortunate enough to be a target of a bug’s fangs and the infection is not getting better within, please have it checked out by a doctor Secondly, if the doctor insists you take a cocktail of medication before leaving (this will most likely only happen in the ER), if you haven’t eaten in quite some time, if you have a slight build, and you’re sure you won’t be whisked off to surgery. Do yourself a big favor; insist right back that you have to put something substantial in your stomach before taking the medicine. Anybody in their right mind would want to avoid six hours of nausea, right?

Going to the Movies

Walter Mitty

I went to a movie on my own a week ago. For Christmas I got some Regal movie passes. I thought it would be good for me to do something by myself, and since I had movie passes I thought that would be the thing to do.

When I arrived at the theater, I typed out what I wanted to see on the Eco communication device, which was ‘The Secret Life of Walter Mitty”, I played it out to the ticket box operator,  (I was amazed she understood the eco.) I gave her the pass, she gave me a ticket, some guy opened the door for me, I had to duck under his arm.

What happens when both you and the ticket taker have Cerebral Palsy? I spazzed out while handing her the ticket. The ticket fell to the ground causing her to knock something else to the ground, and she’s saying, “I’ve got it. I’ve got it.” Fortunately, I successfully grasped the ticket stub and shoved it into my coat pocket. She told me the number of the theater the movie was in, and I was sure she said six.

However, I was feeling bad for dropping the ticket, which caused the mini cyclone, that after I had went on my way I started wondering if I heard her right. Unfortunately, the theaters don’t have the names of the movies over the doors any more, so I was second guessing myself. I asked someone (I think it was her job coach), to double Check the theater, I was right! It was just a little discerning because I was so early, and the theater so empty!

I struck up a little conversation with the job coach, we exchanged names, but I can’t remember it now. I saw a family from church. Chatted with them a little while. I worked some on a journal entry.  Was I busy with my time, or what?

When I noticed  the first couple enter the theater, I followed shortly after them. I love watching places filling up with people. It’s interesting to see them staking up their places. During the previews, four people in wheelchairs came into the theater. I thought, what is this?  A gimp convention!

I guess I have to eat some words here. I had laid claim to the small two spaced wheelchair sitting area.  I didn’t want to give up “my space”.  I was early. if you snooze, you lose, I thought.   Oh, I am a pushover, of course I moved! I should have parked correctly in the first place. It’s rare that two people in wheelchairs are in a theater, let alone five, who would have thought?

I went to the movie without much expectation. I am not A Ben Stiller fan, but he won my heart in his role as Walter Mitty! Walter fantasizes about winning the girl of his dreams excessively, almost to his detriment.  However, to find a missing photo, he must get out of his comfort zone, and start living real adventures.  I found a kindred spirit in Walter Mitty. Ben’s eyes looked amazing in the movie!  Ben both directed and stared in this movie. Way to go,   Ben  Stiller!

I was a little dismayed when I exited the theater, I found that it was five minutes into the window of time where a bus would  whisk me home.  However, I calmed myself down with the fact that the buses are rarely early, and rarer still, on time!  Even still, I was out within the five minutes they give  people to get  on the bus.  Turns out the bus showed up near the end of the half hour window.

You,  my readers,  may be wondering what would have happened if I had  needed help while I was at the movie?  Good question! I can send texts via the Eco.  It comes in quite handy sometimes!  Of course, I would be in a pickle if both my power chair and Eco stopped working at the same time!  Thank goodness none of that happened that day!

Turtle Speed? Say What?

ImageImageThe image above me,  is that of a turtle. Do i look anything like a turtle?  No, i didn’t think so either .I was exiting a Lift bus when the driver said that I should have my power chair on “turtle”. Now I was paying attention to how I was driving onto the gangplank and not to her. When I stopped, I gave her a quizzical look. She said it was a new policy that Lift was trying to enforce on their riders to keep us safe.  When I still looked questioning she threw in that I had done nothing wrong.

When the lift reached the ground, she really wanted me on turtle speed. I tried it for 5.5 seconds, and I could not stand going so slow.  I turned my power chair up to a hungry turtle speed, and ignored her plea to go so slow. I had an appointment to get to, for goodness sake.

Either that driver was a control freak, or she had a bad experience with a passenger who had trouble driving their power chair.   No other driver has mentioned “the turtle policy” again, so I am sure it was a rouse to keep her “passengers” safe.

What stress can do.

Here’s an update on my housing situation.  My family is against me leaving the agency that can no longer help  support me in my apartment, instead of finding an agency that would continue helping me in my current or slightly bigger and appealing apartment.    I grudgingly agreed to move into a house with another person who is in the same boat I find myself.

in July a possible  House came on the radar .  Both my future housemate and I were summoned to take a look at the house. It was rather a pointless trip.  We did not have a key to the house.  All we were able to do was peer inside through the windows, and that can be hard to do for a couple of people in wheelchairs.  My sister who drove me to the house was able to stand me up so I could peer inside. However, that did not give me a good feel for the house. My gut feeling was that the house was way too small.  It had a huge backyard, though.  We could have had great backyard parties!

A little after the possible house scare, my back started prickling.  I had my personal assistants check my back numerous of times. The best they could come with was that I had some sort of rash. The pain persisted.  Finally it dawned on me at the very same time one of my personal assistants said, “You know you could have Shingles.”

Shingles are brought on by stress.  Huh, the very idea of a life changing event brought on my second bought of Shingles.  Awesome, not!  Luckily it stayed localized to my back, and was a very mild case.  However, I stayed home and away from the mass crowd for a few weeks, because while I could not pass Shingles along,  I could pass the Chickenpox to someone.  I had cabin fever something fierce!

My doctor wrote me a prescription for acyclovir,  an antiviral medication.   It kept the Shingles from spreading across  my body. When I went to pick up the prescription, I was startled to learn I was supposed to take five doses a day.  i have a gag reflex a mile long, and taking 5 doses a day for ten days seemed like climbing Mt.  Everest!   I specifically asked the pharmacist how solvent the pills were.   He assured me I would be able to swallow the pill before it would dissolve  in my mouth. I believed him.

I waited until the next morning to start the medication preferring not to get up twice to take the dreaded pills.   The second the pill hit my mouth, it started melting, quickly turning into a frothy goo that I could neither swallow or spit out very effectively. The First image that ran through my mind was climbing on top of the pharmacy counter and strangling the pharmacist. I am not typically a violent person, but I strongly felt he deserved some sort of punishment!

I still had 49 pills I need to gag down. As luck would have it, just that week I discovered a Crystal Lite drink mix I actually liked, pomegranate. I had my personal assistants dissolve the pills into the drink, and slugged it down as fast as I could.   Totally ruined the only Crystal Lite beverage I will ever drink for life, but I accomplished what I had to.

I suppose it would do my heart good if I went back to the the pharmacist, and explained my experience with the acyclovir.  perhaps it would save someone undue discomfort.

The Long, Long Healing Process

So, I came home from ER wearing no splint or any subscriptions for my pain. Not that I ever want to take painkillers. I could be in unbearable pain, and refuse to take an aspirin.

I have a couple of  aversions to taking any type of medicine:

1.  I am afraid of taking any medicine that might be harmful to my body.

And 2.  I have a terrible gag reflex that makes it difficult to swallow medicine.  So much so that quite often it is simply easier to live with the pain.

The spastic side of my CP was kicking into overdrive.  Having no bandage on my finger meant I had to stabilize my left hand, so that I wouldn’t keep banging my finger on things.  My only means of stabilizing my left hand was by using my right hand. I would grab a hold of my left thumb, and let my fingers rest on top of  the back of my right hand. When that position began to ache, I would let go of my thumb and grab my two little fingers, and again rest my fingers on the back of my right hand.  When that hold got tiresome, I would press my left hand flat on my chest, and hold it there with my right hand. Eventually, that position became unbearable, and I would start that whole sequence of positions all over again.

My left arm and hand were behaving like two completely foreign body parts.   Before my unfortunate accident with the keyguard, if I was concentrating on my work  or simply reading, I would find my left arm and hand curled up near my armpit.  I would easily bat it down with my right hand and place  my left hand between my thighs until it relaxed, only then could I go back to what I was doing. However, after the accident, my arm and hand are impossible to relax.   There was just no way to relax the arm;, no matter what tactic i used.

By the end of day three or four,  I relented, and started taking one Ibuprofen at a time. By day six,  I was taking two at a time,  and was enjoying the sweet feel of relief when the ibuprofen kicked in. It was never enough to deaden the pain, but at least I was a little more calmer.

I lost massive amounts of sleep.  I just could not relax no matter what I tried.   Usually if I have trouble sleeping I will physically get out of bed and wander around a bit, or sit on the edge of the bed helps relive some pent up energy, and not even that helped. What I really needed to do was  to stretch out my left arm.  If I succeeded in getting the arm nicely straightened, it folded back  up on itself again once I laid down.  It was very maddening! Most nights I had to  tell myself not  to leave the edge of the bed, because I was so tired I just knew  I would fallen and further injured myself.

It was the hardest thing for me to grasp that in  order to heal, I need to do nothing but relax.  The only way I can fully relax is by watching TV.  So, I watch shows that made me laugh like, 30 Rock, Raising  Hope,  My Name Is Earl, and any show that took my mind off the pain.  Thank goodness I had just purchased a Roku player which allows me to stream Netflix and recent shows on Hulu.  Without that distraction, I don’t know what I would have done, after all laughter is the best medicine!

You Should Consider Who May Be Listening When You Open Your Mouth

I am going to take a brief intermission from my finger issues to share an incident I can not got out of my head.

This past weekend the Portland area was plagued with 90 plus degree weather. Heat and I do not get along, so I made plans to go somewhere with air conditioning.  My place of choice was Barns and  Noble in the mall. I figured we could find somewhere to cop-a-squat and read for a few hours. Turns out, lots of people had that same idea, for there was not many seats available, not that I needed one (I have a seat wherever I go), but I wanted my PA to have somewhere to sit.  It felt like we were in the parking lot  circling around hoping a car to abandon a space.

Finally, we found a table in the cafe.  Which begs me to ask the following question.  If you sit in a cafe, are you obligated to buy a drink or something to eat?  anyway we were not sitting at the table too long before a couple came along and sat at the table next to us. It was obviously a first date, because they were asking questions you  ask when you’re getting to know someone. I was all aglow thinking I could be witnessing a budding relationship?

I caught myself eavesdropping, I figured if by chance I’m unexpectedly asked on a date, I could take some notes from this couple.  However, I didn’t envision what happened next. The man was saying, “I’m in very good shape  for someone in mid-sixties. I would rather  be dead then be stuck in a wheelchair!”  Then he thought better of his comment, and started exaggeratedly looking about him to see if he had offended anyone. I was looking straight at him, and he looked EVERYWHERE but at me.  I felt totally invisible.

He had to have seen me there. I am hardy the kind of person who blends into my surroundings! I understand that everybody has the right to think and feel about things. I’m sure if the man had acknowledged my presence, and said “I’m sorry for my comment.”  I would have came away from the occurrence  with a different attitude.

I’m still trying to guess why he would ignore me. Do you think he was trying to get even for my eavesdropping?

In hindsight, I wish I had dramatically  flung my arm over my forehead and exclaimed, “Oh Lord, please take my soul now, because my life is not worth living from a wheelchair!”  Then collapsed in my wheelchair. Do you think he would have got the jist of my soliloquy?

The Trip to ER

The day after I messed up my finger, I had to be encouraged by my sister to get it checked out by my doctor. She had a good point; I had to know if I broke my finger .or not. My doctor’s office could not fit me in until the next week.. They said i should go to Urgent Care.

I had my PA call Urgent Care, to verify that they took my insurance, they did.  Next my PA asked if we could borrow a van from Community Inclusion.  Since it was both the end of the day, and my PA said I had Hurt my finger and needed to have it checked out,  we got the van.  We got to Urgent Care.  Gave them my insurance  info, and was just settling in to fill  out the  paperwork.  We were stopped  about 30 seconds later.   Turns out Urgent Care could not help me because,   I am covered by two insurances.   They said I should go to ER.   As I was exiting the building I exclaimed that it was B S! For once, I hoped they understood my sediments,  because I was in pain, and all I wanted was to be helped!

Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at ER.  I was checked in, ushered into the intake room to the right of the the reception desk, where they got a better idea of what my problem was, and took my vitals.  I dislike having my blood pressure taken.  My CP kicks  into overdrive and makes it sometimes hard to get a clear reading .  Well, my body was exceptionally tweaked out on this day, and before the nurse was satisfied with a reading, my arm must have been squeezed at least five times.   I thought my arm was going to pop  before the ordeal was over.  I was relieved when the cuff finally came off, and I was released  to the waiting room.

Thirty to forty minutes later, I was ushered into an exam room, where I waited another twenty or thirty minutes. At long last, the ER doctor came waltzing in. Of course, he took one look at my finger and said he wanted three x-rays taken. I groaned. a flashback into childhood, and being taped down to the x-ray table to help me stay still set me farther on edge.  As tensed as my left arm and hand were, getting decent e-rays would be a pain in the rear!

I wished my sister was with me. She’s the only person that knows how to get me to relax. What’s more, she knows how to get my wrist to relax. The x-ray experience would have been a snap if she were there.

Twenty  or thirty  minutes later, the x-ray technician came to escort me to his domain. After my communication device was removed from my power chair, and a lead apron was added to my attire;  the x-ray dude tried to place my left hand on the  exposure table. My hand was curled up in my wrist, and when my finger hit the table a jolt of pain shot through it.

He told me to extend my wrist. My PA explained that would not be possible.  it was like he didn’t hear or understood her, for he kept on asking me to extend my wrist. It reminded me of the times when my dad told me repeatedly to relax.  I would swear each time he said relax his eyes grew larger as if he could will my body into submission, which irritated me to no end!

Finally I felt like I had to show the dude that I understood him. I extended my right wrist. His eyes grew large with hope, and he asked me if that was the hand that my injured finger was on. I said no in as flat of a tone as I could muster. However, I am sure my eyes were flashing fire.  (I have been told on occasion that my eyes can shoot off a number of evil looks. I guess it’s a family trait I am blessed with).

Funny, x-ray dude became creative after that.   He found a foam wedge to rest my hand on.  As my PA was stabilizing my arm with just a touch of her hand, and while I was taking deep breaths, x-ray was happily doing his job.  unfortunately, he could not get a clear image of the tip of my finger,     which at times hurts more then the knuckle. X-ray dude walked us back to the exam room.

Another Nurse came in and took my vitals, again.  I wanted to say, “Yep, I am still alive, can’t we just leave it at that!   Twenty  minutes later,  the doctor was back before me.  He said the finger was not broken.  I had just sprang it badly.  He was not going to  splint it up, because he thought my body fight against it.  I thought he just didn’t want to go through the hassle of casting my hand. I think if my sister had been there, she could have argued the point, and won. I have no idea how my hand would have taken to the cast, but I would like to think that it would have relaxed given time.

I ask you, did I go through all that hassle for nothing? At least, I know my finger is not broken, and I am giving you all a good glimpse of what a person with a disability goes through to get health care.  I think there is a burning question here.  Like,  how much training does the medical community as a whole have in caring for people who have disabilities?


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