Yesterday I was reminded

I went into the hospital 11/2010. 

I was under the loving care of my friend. I was totally inflamed with P. Like never before. 

I spent my time going from the bed in her guest room to the tub (4 ft). 

I went to emergency room because I had not gone to the bathroom in a week. This is what I was reminded of. I totally forgot. My mother reminded me. 

Everyone was so generous then. Lisa tried to provide me physical comfort. Even when in the hospital, she came everyday, lying in the bed with me for about an hour, telling her stories. 

But the doctors there did nothing for me. They 'suggested' that I was losing moisture through the skin and did not have a need to urinate. But wastes were building up. The treatment they put me on was saline IV. 

At the end of 5 days, with no treatment for P being provided, I told the hospital staff I wanted to be discharged. 

I had a pending flight to Texas. I figured I should let what ever was going to happen in Texas where my parents were. 

But when I went to Texas, my cousin (rheumatologist Jack Cush, MD) provided me medical care including weekly shots of Humira. He got me in with a dermatologist who provided me 3 weeks of cyclosporine. Additionally, my cousin wrote prescriptions for methotrexate and prednisone. 

I should not have accepted the treatment. I didn't know. I am now in te same predicament in Oct2013 that I was in Sept2010. Only this time I'm working on my second September lower left leg infection in two years. 

Last year, I went to hospital with swollen ankle and had surgery. This year, I had a hole in the bottom of my foot. I went to the same podiatrist instead of going to the hospital. It's 7 weeks later, I've had 8 different prescriptions, 6 for 5 different pills, a liquid wound preparation, and a wound covering that has active ingredients included silver and algae. 

Now, I have been fitted with a wound vac. Called Negative Pressure Wound therapy, it is a pump the provides constant indirect suction on the wound. 

All of this is so crazy. I've sold nothing for Mark or Brooks. I've never hot back to painting. This foot problem actually began July 23. 

I don't know. I miss my life.