As my son Seth said a few weeks ago, before things did get worse, “It
all started with a bone infection.” That is exactly right. It all started with
a fungus in my right big toe nail specifically. But as a pharmacist told me, “A
dog cannot become a cat.” Somewhere along the way an opening occurred in the
toe nail and bacteria got in. That bacteria became an infection and that
infection traveled down to the bone of my toe.
Although that alone sounds bad enough, it could have been worse, and
technically it still could be worse. That bone infection is called Osteomyelitis
and it can lead to damage to the bone and worse case, amputation. The
podiatrist that I went to see didn’t see the infection on two x-rays taken four
weeks apart. He decided to do an MRI on my toe and that’s where he was able to
pinpoint the infection. I’ve been told several times that if he had found the
infection on the x-ray it could possibly been too late. It could have been
worse!
The podiatrist
sent me to an infectious disease doctor. I thought I’d be on oral antibiotics
for a few weeks. To my surprise it wasn’t going to be that simple. The doctor
explained to me that the only way we could attack this infection was through
intravenous antibiotics. And the only way to do this was for me to go into the
hospital to have a picc line inserted into the big vein in my arm. PICC stands
for a peripherally inserted central catheter.
The catheter runs the antibiotics through that vein, right above my heart and
straight into my blood stream so they can reach the far regions of my toe.
So on Thursday, January 9 I went into the
hospital to have this PICC line inserted and to begin my three and a half week experience
with Vancomycin, one of the strongest but most effective antibiotics for bone
infections.
The doctor has a pharmacist on staff and
a pharmacy in-house. The pharmacist compounds the medications and each week I
had to go in to see the infusion nurse and the pharmacist. The nurse draws
blood and changes the dressing around the picc line. The pharmacist would hand
me 14 globes of medication that closely resembled a buzz ballz cocktail, a week’s
supply. I was responsible for giving myself these antibiotics twice a day for
two hours each time.
They check the blood each week for kidney
and liver function. Each week I was told I was doing great. I was being very
proactive and when I started this antibiotic treatment I had also decided to
start a detox diet. I was drinking a probiotic each morning, drinking a body cleanse
drink, drinking detox tea, kombucha and a ton of water.
I have no idea how I did it those first
three weeks. Somehow I fit this picc line and these antibiotics into my daily
routine. I would go to work each day, check in, go to a meeting or check email
and respond to important items. Then I would go to the nursing mother’s room in
one of the restrooms where they have a table and a chair. I would hook up my
buzz ball, would put on an apron with a pocket for the ball, and then I’d throw
a poncho over me to hide the whole thing. I’d go back to my desk to work until
it was time to disconnect and clean the line with saline and heparin.
There were a couple of times that I
connected or disconnected in my car. I’d infuse sometimes while driving and
once even while having lunch with someone. The second infusion was always at
home before bed. There were times when I fell asleep while infusing because I
was so exhausted. In retrospect I was wearing myself down.
I was planning a big trip to Las Vegas
for my 50th birthday the weekend of February 7th. I really wanted for the doctor to tell me
that I was getting all better by week three and that he could remove the picc
line of February 6 so that I could go to Vegas without it. At my January 30th appointment he
told me that wasn’t going to happen. He told me that I needed to hold on for another
two weeks. I cried but I accepted my fate and even joked that I was going to
name my picc line Piper and that she was going on an adventure with me to Vegas.
Ironically at that visit he suggested
that I change over from Vancomycin to Daptomycin, a different and stronger
antibiotic. My response that sealed my fate, “Why change antibiotics when I’m
doing so well with the one I’m on. What if I change at this late date and I
have a reaction to the new one?”
Five days later I had a delayed allergic
reaction to Vancomycin.
To be continued...
