What a terrible nine months it’s been. There’s so much to write about, but I think for now I’m sticking to my current health nightmare. I’m currently in the hospital with a bone infection. Specifically the bones in the second and third toes of my right foot.
I wrote a while back about the second-degree burns I stupidly gave myself last summer. They’re completely healed except for one spot on my right foot, where I put all my weight. Last October that wound was super small. Then it got bigger again, and I’m not going to go into details regarding why or how because I’m still pondering legal action. My foot doctor and I both agreed a skin graft was the best way to put this shit to rest because we’re sick and tired of seeing each other. That was scheduled for May 1st, but that’s off the table now. Sunday night my right foot was fine, apart from the wound.
Monday morning the first three toes were swollen and red. I sent pics to my foot doctor, and he said to go to the ER, and after a brief eight hours in the waiting room, they took me back and immediately admitted me to the hospital on my foot doctor’s request. Two different doctors, before I was admitted, told me they didn’t think it looked that bad and that they’d never admit me over something so minor, but they were respecting my doc’s wishes. Let’s put a pin in that.
So, I get into my room, the next morning a podiatrist takes a look at the swelling and then takes a look at the wound and tells me that part of the wound goes down to the bone. This is the first I’ve heard of this. This is of great concern to him, so he orders x-rays, an MRI, they take a couple gallons of blood and piss from me, blah blah blah.
Twelve hours later he’s back in my room, talking to my wife and I, and he starts in with this childish hemming and hawing about whatever and I tell him to stop and just say whether or not I have a bone infection. He says I do. This is terrible news.
I’m pausing the narrative for a moment because I want to clearly lay out the two courses of action that are facing me:
- First, six weeks of IV antibiotics via a PICC line. During this time I can’t take a normal shower because of the possibility of infection (I guess PICC lines go right up to the heart), and more importantly, I have to keep 100% of my weight off my foot 100% of the time because that wound has to fucking close. IF the antibiotics work and the infection fucks off, THEN the only way to keep it from returning is to get that goddamn wound closed. This is the part where I’ll remind you that I was supposed to have a skin graft in literally one week. *screams into the void*
- Second, a partial amputation. Cut off all the toes, removing a third of my right foot.
So Annette and I listen to this guy and the tone of the conversation is that the antibiotics are practically a waste of time and I directly ask him if the smart move is to just do the amputation (“I say we take off and nuke the entire site from orbit. It’s the only way to be sure.”), and he says, “that would be the recommended course of action, yes.”
I’m telling you right now, I’ve never truly understood despair and hopelessness until Tuesday, April 22nd, 2025.
Without question, the worst night of my life. I’m a neurotic fucking mess to begin with and that night I was feral. I asked the nurse for “something to silence my thoughts and allow me to fucking sleep,” and she came back with 1mg of Ativan. I got nine solid hours of sleep, so I’m officially on #teamativan.
Yesterday morning I woke up with acceptance in my heart that I needed to lose my toes. Several hours later, I spoke with a completely different podiatrist and he agreed to come see me later when Annette could be here. That conversation was a completely different thing. Both courses of action listed above are still on the table, but this guy said it wasn’t uncommon for antibiotics to get rid of bone infections and that the biggest concern was to get the wound on the foot healed (while taking the antibiotics over the next six weeks).
So, that’s the plan. Sponge baths, knee scooters, and wheelchairs for six weeks. IF this works, I’ve already told them I’m going to pursue aggressive follow up. Foot x-rays every 4-6 weeks and whatever else I can think of. This is going to be a huge concern for the rest of my life. If the drugs fail to get rid of the bone infection, the fear is that it will spread to other parts of my foot, leg, or body. I am prepared to be an asshole about this (or, as Mark Givens phrases it, “advocate for myself”).
And during the next six weeks I’m going to be an asshole about additional therapies such as hyperbaric oxygen therapy or whatever else. I asked two different podiatrists about that very therapy and the answer was “it probably wouldn’t do very much,” but all that says to me is “it’ll do a little,” and in the face of losing my fucking toes, I’ll take a little. I’m certain they’re both correct that the biggest thing is staying off my feet, but at this point I’m ready for anything that will expedite the healing.
And, of course, none of this may work. I may have to have an amputation. Last night I told my sister that none of us get out of here without a few scars. If I lose my toes, it’s a massive fucking scar, but I’ve already survived worse*.
As I mentioned above, there’s a lot I’m leaving out for possible future legal consideration, but if you have questions, there are definitely answers. The two questions I have, regardless of whether or not I keep my toes, are:
- How / why did a foot doctor look at the wound on my foot every month for nine months and not spot that part of it was close to the bone? Or, if he did, why wasn’t there a greater sense of urgency?
- Given that I have Type 2 Diabetes, why did literally no one propose more aggressive treatment for healing the wound?
Two takeaways from all this:
- First, never make any medical decision after talking with only one doctor. The doctor we spoke with on Tuesday night might be a good guy, he might be a good doctor even, but he’s dog shit at communication. He also seems to be a bit of a pessimist given his recommendation to jump straight from bad news into amputation. In the discussion I had with Annette about finding a second opinion, I told her I didn’t want to hear from anyone else in this organization because they’d just parrot what the other guy had said. I’ve seen that very thing happen recently. BUT, the doctor we spoke with last night wasn’t a pessimist, and he told us the exact same thing the first guy did. Has he given me a sense of false hope? Maybe. But he talked me out of losing my toes without putting up a fight. Always talk to more than one doctor.
- Second, never let any doctor, especially an ER doctor tell you “it doesn’t look that bad to me.” Ever. Remember the two guys I mentioned earlier who told me they’d never admit me over an infection so small? Fuck them. Fuck both of them. Right in the earhole. There’s another way Monday could’ve gone. I could’ve seen the redness and swelling and made the decision to go to the ER on my own. And Doctors Clownshoes and Fuckwit would’ve sent me home with antibiotics and things could’ve progressed to the point where amputation was the only course of action. Never, ever let a doctor tell you “it doesn’t look that bad to me.”
There’s no tidy ending to be had here, this is very much to be continued.
*I once sat through all of Battlefield Earth