All of you folks out there in blog land need to keep a sharp watch out for this bad news dude, referred to as "MRSA", (methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus). Growing up we boys liked to make up sayings about how hot is was, or how cold it was, or how bad, etc. MSRA is as bad as a junk yard dog, it's as strong as battery acid, it makes Chuck Norris look like Twiggy. This stuff will make you one miserable, fever ridden, chill having, aches and pains a plenty, pill and IV recipient. The definition says it is resistant to methicillin, amoxicillin and penicillin. The bottom line is it doesn't respond to many common antibiotics. Once you get this bad bug it seems to hang around in your system just waiting for you to screw up in some innocent way, and then it jumps back on you and kicks your ass all over again.
Last March I managed to hook up with Mr MRSA and subsequently spent a week in the hospital, had to have my wound site surgically purged and then came in daily for 35 more days for a hour long dose of IV antibiodics. Don't even ask what all this cost. But at the end of it I seemed all healed up, was feeling good again and the sawbones declared me "well". I now know that all those positive comments were just bullshit. Mr MRSA had just grown weary of messing with me and had gone into hibernation. As soon as I screwed up he came back, and bit me in the ass again.
While I was in Haiti just before Christmas I managed to slip while coming down a steep mountain path and scrapped the hide off the palm of my left hand and my lower leg. After a spell of cussing and being embarrassed because several aged Haitians were trotting along where I was crawling, I poured some bottled water over my wounds and continued on out to the road (1 1/2 more hours of crawling up and down the hills). I was not seriously hurt, but at the same time I knew the local conditions were about as unclean and germ laden as a cesspool. For the next few days I kept it clean and wrapped and thought all was well.
W R O N G !!!
On day three while bandaging it I caught a unusual odor that I associated with something I had smelled back in March. Guess what......Mr MRSA was out of hibernation and was getting ready to dump another load of "kick ass" on me. There was little I could do. There ain't no "doc in a box" places in Haiti and we still had four more days to trek around the hills before we headed for the good old U S of A. I had some Cipro pills that we always take along to stem the unpleasant effects of the "barnyard shits", should they come along. I made a command decision to start taking them on the spot really doubting that some drug this typical would even faze Mr MRSA. By the time we loaded up in Port Au Prince and headed home I had what looked like a third nipple growing on my chest. Every day it got more and more angry and continued to swell up. I mean I was a A cup on the left side and a B cup on the right. It felt like a pissed off hornet was stuck on my right teat and was gnawing at my chest. As soon as I made it home I went straight to the infusion center that had treated me before and pleaded for some relief. They immediately put me on what they described as a "very powerful oral antibiotic". It should have been powerful since a week supply of 14 pills cost $272.00. Well....guess what. This just made Mr MRSA even madder, so he then treated me to another eruption on my left wrist. So now I'm in a real mess. I'm walking around favoring my right side looking like there is a corncob in my ass and now I can't even pick my nose with my left hand. I'm surprised I didn't get arrested for impersonating the "hunchback of ECU".
I had to attend an out of town funeral on New Years Eve at 6PM. Even though it was a 4 hour drive from home when it was over at 8:15PM, I loaded up and put the hammer down headed back to my own crib. You see, Mr MRSA had whispered in my ear, earlier that day and said, "you ain't seen nothing yet, dude". Something told me to listen to him and I knew I needed to be close to an ER when 2008 dawned. First thing on January 1st, 2008 I presented myself to the local ER. A pretty young doctor took a quick glance at me and started honing her scalpel. Soon I found myself in the supine position getting ready for some good old fashion torture. After "opening them up" she commenced to squeeze them like a dry lemon for a while, and then "packed them". I'm not sure but I think she used a mixture of sawdust and gunpowder. This experience was kinda` like getting your nipple pierced with a chain saw. Then she prescribes another dose of an even more powerful antibiotic, and recommends that I pay another visit to the Infectious Disease Guru as soon as normal office hours start up. So.......the next day I make another visit to the Infusion Center knowing full well what was in store. You guessed it....some more IV antibiotics.
The good news and the end of this long story is, that after a week of the IV meds and now another 9 days of an even stronger oral antibiotic I am finally better. My wrist and my third nipple have receded and I'm back in my training bra with the same size cups. I have one more days dose of the new and improved oral meds and hopefully this encounter with Mr MRSA is over....wish me luck. Did I mention that the last oral stuff makes you feel like the Tasmanian Devil has moved into your guts and is constipated. I'm telling you, don't yank Mr MRSA's chain....he will put out your lights. Crookedpaw