Part Two Of Infection Two

Yeah, my title sucks.  Bite me.

Morning routine slapped me in the face at about 7.  Doctors came in.  Nurses came in.  A specialist from Infectious Diseases came in (they still weren't sure if it was MRSa).  She took down my story and said she would be back at about noon with her boss.  So it was mainly a day of waiting and worrying.  They had done a MRSa swab on me the night before, but the test results wouldn't be back for like a week.  Another doctor came in and talked to me.  He wanted to try a new drug on this infection, but it was so new that the insurance wouldn't cover it, and treatment would have been about $1000.  Holy shit.  The Infectious Disease doctors showed up after he did, and the discussions started.

What it boiled down to was a few things.  The first thing was that both the main Infectious Disease doctor and the previous doctors were in agreement about me not having a PICC line.  As a matter of fact, the ID doctor was pissed that the ER had even sent me to have one placed without consulting him first.  Anywho, they were worried about other infections because of it.  So they knew that that would be coming out.  The second thing was how to treat the infection.  Vancomycin is the drug of choice with MRSa (which they still didn't know if I had it or not), but the whole PICC line issue was there.  So we went over a few options, and it was agreed upon that I would go home with double strength Bactrim pills, and strict orders that if it didn't start going down, to come back immediately.  They weren't sure if it would work, but the alternatives were either too far out there (the new drug) or too risky due to secondary infections.  The last thing that it boiled down to was instructions.

I was instructed to NOT tweeze hairs.  I was told that it was a risk.  Shaving, wax, laser, whatever else, that was fine.  But don't tweeze.  I was instructed to decolonize the house, my family, and myself, just in case it was MRSa.  Decolonizing is not fun, and it makes you feel like you're the dirtiest person in the world.  For a solid week, I was to wash our sheets every day, wash towels almost as frequently, shower with a special type of antibacterial soap called Hibiclens, and stuff bacitracin ointment up our noses twice a day, because MRSa lives in the nose.  We were also advised to wash our hands more than usual, and to wipe down all frequently used surfaces with Lysol wipes.  After that, we only had to do those things once or twice a week for a month.  Oy.

I was released from the hospital that afternoon.  It took a while to get out of there, because no one knew who the fuck would be pulling out my PICC line.  My doctor eventually did it, and even though it hurt a bit, I was glad to have the damned thing out.  Since I had to wait for my husband to finish at school, I went down to the chapel and did something I hadn't done in a very long time:  I prayed.  A lot.  And I cried.  A lot.  I can't even remember what I muttered in those prayers, but I know there was a lot of groveling and begging for my health back.  I eventually wore myself out, signed the book asking for more prayers, and left.

So, here I am, nearly a month from the last attack.  It turned out not to be MRSa, but just a nasty form of Cellulitis.  I've stopped tweezing, unless the hairs are really out there.  My regular physician gave me the green light for that as long as I sterilized the tweezers, scrubbed my face with Hibiclens, and wear gloves.  I'm also waiting for the dermatology department at Northwestern to give me a call so I can figure out a way to combat these hairs.  My physician did give me a test for PCOS, since that can cause facial hair, but it came back negative.  So she's hoping that the dermatologists can recommend something or get the insurance to cover Vaniqa, since that does help me.  If not, then I may start shelling out the $80 a month for it.

Mentally, I don't think I'm going to get over this very easily.  I worry every time I feel a new hair come up, or if the scar site starts itching or feeling weird (it does that sometimes).  I'm constantly touching that area to see if anything is coming back.  Nothing is, but I do have some scarring from where the infections were.  It's not noticeable, but when I touch it, it feels much bigger than it is, and when I look at it closely in the mirror, I can see how it makes my jawline uneven.  It's a sad reminder of how vanity can fuck up a person, both physically and emotionally.