Infections are scary things

Bad news: the infection has not yet run its course. I was definitely better on Wednesday, a week after the re-open and drain procedure because of a really bad infection. Only a little redness left, everything was looking positive. The doctor changed the antibiotic to Tetracycline (a blast from the past for all your boomers. I almost asked him whether it would ruin my teeth).

But by Thursday night it was clearly swelling again and much more red across a larger area. Well, my good buddy Chris told me a while ago, "Don't let up on them, MA!" so I called for an emergency appt today. Now I'm on two other, stronger antibiotics.

The doctor even mentioned MSRA, although my brain didn't retain what he said about it. He didn't say I did have it, I'm sure of that. Maybe he said it was a possibility. For those of you who don't know, MSRA is that very bad, antibiotic-resistant staph infection that one contracts from hospitals. It's why you don't ever want to stay in a hospital longer than you absolutely must. It's scary -- I think this bothers me more than the whole thing to date. Maybe I just need a nap.

Naps are my great retreat, now that I can't have a glass of wine (no alcohol with antibiotics!) and I can't take a bath (recent open wounds!). Everything always looks worse when you're tired and everything looks better once you've had a nap. If you can get to sleep anyway, and put off worrying for another day. A good book is also useful -- even a bad book can work!

And humor, of course. So here's my shot of humor, both for all of you and for me. My doctor was off today, so I saw his partner for the first time. He seems like a nice guy, although more casual and chatty. So, I move the "drape" (euphemism for a little dishtowel that snaps down the front and comes barely to my waist) so he can look at the breast before making any decisions about what should be done. And he says "My god! Look at that breast!"

I am taken aback. I think, "Well, he must be talking about the redness of it. I mean, he couldn't be talking about the size of my breast." So I say something professional like "Yes, it's quite a bit redder than it was 2 days ago." He says, "No, I mean the size of it!"

Again, I can't believe a doctor could possibly be that politically incorrect. I mean, this man is in his 50s. He's a doctor, for crying out loud! He can't, he can't mean that! So, again, I say the right thing: "It has swollen some." But no, the man is determined that I understand his point. "No, I mean you just have such large breasts. Let me look at your bra-strap lines. Well, they're not too bad yet. I see 80 year old women in here with breasts like that and they have deep grooves in their shoulders."

I must say, I was so stunned I was just amused. Through this last couple months I've been very glad that I'm not one of those body-shy women. There's just been all kinds of doctors, nurses, the passing intern, handling my breast. I have stripped for more men in the last 2 months than the last 5 years. It's about as sexy as cold macaroni and cheese.

I'm also glad I'm not overly concerned with my looks. I met one nice elderly man, who's wife had been diagnosed with breast cancer about the same time I was and was on the same trajectory (minus the infection). He said she was most worried of all about losing her hair. He said, "We had to get up at 5am so she could do her hair just right before we drove the hour to this cancer center. She's always been like that about her hair. Losing her hair is just going to be so hard on her." I felt so sorry for her -- it's hard enough to be 65 or 70 and find breast cancer, let alone "lose your looks" when you care about them so much.

"To sleep. Perchance to dream." For better or for worse, I rarely remember my dreams.