Monday, October 18, 2010
And Speaking of Infirmity
So, just as I'm pondering old age (ok I agree, it's not that rare), the husband ups and gets some really weird infection on the back of his hand. First a lump, then a day later it's all out swollen grossness. Naturally, he got the laundry done and carried it down and up the stairs with his nasty hand, before he went to the emergency room. They put him on an IV drip of antibiotics, took an xray and some blood, and finally sent him home when it seemed as though the antibiotics were taking effect. It wasn't a cyst or a boil or bursitis or anything with a name.
By the morning, it was hurting even more so off to the doctor he went, who was so freaked out by his big, ugly hand that he called another doctor in for a second opinion, where they contemplated putting him on yet another IV drip. Instead, they doubled down on his antibiotic prescription and sent him home, still without giving a name to his affliction.
Maybe a big red hand doesn't sound so bad, but it makes me think of Rachel, a young mother who I met on a trip to Costa Rica who, just a couple weeks after we were kayaking with her through grand beauty, came down with an unnamed infection that spread like wildfire through her body and killed her.