i'm sitting here weeping.
the appointment with my surgeon was canceled because the results from the cultures "look great," as in, nothing is growing.
of course nothing is growing, they weren't able to aspirate anything from my shoulder joimt -- just like the other SEVEN joint aspirations we have done in the last three years, none of which grew a darned thing, despite both shoulders being clearly infected at the time of surgery. the phrase "your bones exploded with pus" comes to mind as memorable...
the person who called thought he was bringing me good news, both in terms of the labs and in terms of saving me the pain and discomfort of a car trip across Tête de Hergé in late afternoon traffic.
he's also not in a position of any authority, so blathering until blue-faced with him would serve no point.
besides, i blog. i can blither and blather with relative impunity into the vast wasteland of the blogosphere, joining my tears with those of people who are suffering with real problems today.
there. i am cried out. no doubt, i will hear from some medico later today, will be reassured that, yes, they know i am at wit's end, that i've a freaking fistula now, for christ's sake, and that the pain is both worse and different, that the daily fevers now incorporate incredible sweats and interminable headaches... that yes, they know this was the eighth aspiration without a result and that yes, there is a plan.
that's all i want. the illusion of a plan. some kind of exit strategy.
you know, like in a war.
i've no time for this foolish weeping, anyway. i have a manor to run, marlinspike hall to decorate for the holidays (remember, we celebrate them all!), pies to bake, investments to supervise, cat talons to trim (this last chore added as i staunch the bleeding from buddy's latest "soft paw").
any tips for maintaining sanity should be left below in the comment section. lacking other advice, my tentative plan is for a Do It Yourself Shoulder Prosthesis Removal (DIY-SPR), right now penciled in for sunday afternoon. that will give me time to gather the necessary tools.
butter knife, garden hose, thread, neosporin, organic cotton sling...
the appointment with my surgeon was canceled because the results from the cultures "look great," as in, nothing is growing.
of course nothing is growing, they weren't able to aspirate anything from my shoulder joimt -- just like the other SEVEN joint aspirations we have done in the last three years, none of which grew a darned thing, despite both shoulders being clearly infected at the time of surgery. the phrase "your bones exploded with pus" comes to mind as memorable...
the person who called thought he was bringing me good news, both in terms of the labs and in terms of saving me the pain and discomfort of a car trip across Tête de Hergé in late afternoon traffic.
he's also not in a position of any authority, so blathering until blue-faced with him would serve no point.
besides, i blog. i can blither and blather with relative impunity into the vast wasteland of the blogosphere, joining my tears with those of people who are suffering with real problems today.
there. i am cried out. no doubt, i will hear from some medico later today, will be reassured that, yes, they know i am at wit's end, that i've a freaking fistula now, for christ's sake, and that the pain is both worse and different, that the daily fevers now incorporate incredible sweats and interminable headaches... that yes, they know this was the eighth aspiration without a result and that yes, there is a plan.
that's all i want. the illusion of a plan. some kind of exit strategy.
you know, like in a war.
i've no time for this foolish weeping, anyway. i have a manor to run, marlinspike hall to decorate for the holidays (remember, we celebrate them all!), pies to bake, investments to supervise, cat talons to trim (this last chore added as i staunch the bleeding from buddy's latest "soft paw").
any tips for maintaining sanity should be left below in the comment section. lacking other advice, my tentative plan is for a Do It Yourself Shoulder Prosthesis Removal (DIY-SPR), right now penciled in for sunday afternoon. that will give me time to gather the necessary tools.
butter knife, garden hose, thread, neosporin, organic cotton sling...
