"All you do to me is talk, talk!"
So it's pretty obvious that my mouth is sometimes my own worst enemy.
I was at PRISM yesterday for my regular doctor's visit. During our talk, I brought up a time about 10 years ago when I developed a severe perianal cyst, which (because my blood sugars weren't controlled at that time) developed into a massive infection and sepsis. I was hospitalized, where it was revealed that the cyst was about two inches wide and about seven inches deep. I was given a massive dose of antibiotics which defeated the infection. But because I had no insurance, the hospital basically kicked me out soon thereafter. I was forced to clean this open wound and to insert padding to absorb the necrotic tissue on my own for nearly three months. I was petrified that each bowel movement would allow fecal matter to get into the wound, and this is when my phobia of fecal matter began.
I mention all of this because I've recently begun experiencing symptoms that indicate I might be on the road to another infection. I didn't know how Dr. Carreon would react to my suggestion of prophylactic antibiotics, so I related to him the story I just laid out to underscore how traumatic that event was for me. With a straight face, I told Miguel that I would self-terminate before ever going through the same situation again.
I wasn't being a Drama Queen, and I had to reassure the doctor that I was of sound mind and not at danger for causing harm to myself or to others. But I meant every word, and Dr. Carreon seemed to respect that. He agreed that antibiotics were a wise precaution (separate and apart from my assertion of "Never Again!"), and I'm now just waiting for the prescription to arrive tomorrow.
Now for Another Hot Guy.
I was at PRISM yesterday for my regular doctor's visit. During our talk, I brought up a time about 10 years ago when I developed a severe perianal cyst, which (because my blood sugars weren't controlled at that time) developed into a massive infection and sepsis. I was hospitalized, where it was revealed that the cyst was about two inches wide and about seven inches deep. I was given a massive dose of antibiotics which defeated the infection. But because I had no insurance, the hospital basically kicked me out soon thereafter. I was forced to clean this open wound and to insert padding to absorb the necrotic tissue on my own for nearly three months. I was petrified that each bowel movement would allow fecal matter to get into the wound, and this is when my phobia of fecal matter began.
I mention all of this because I've recently begun experiencing symptoms that indicate I might be on the road to another infection. I didn't know how Dr. Carreon would react to my suggestion of prophylactic antibiotics, so I related to him the story I just laid out to underscore how traumatic that event was for me. With a straight face, I told Miguel that I would self-terminate before ever going through the same situation again.
I wasn't being a Drama Queen, and I had to reassure the doctor that I was of sound mind and not at danger for causing harm to myself or to others. But I meant every word, and Dr. Carreon seemed to respect that. He agreed that antibiotics were a wise precaution (separate and apart from my assertion of "Never Again!"), and I'm now just waiting for the prescription to arrive tomorrow.
Now for Another Hot Guy.