Laura vs MRSA Part One

I’ve been pretty absent here for a few weeks, there’s a good reason I promise. I’ve had a MRSA infection. Don’t google it, it’s not pretty! It’s been the absolute worst time for something like this to happen, I’ve had so much going on and I’ve been working non-stop all fall. I got sick on the way to New Orleans, Stayed over in Seattle for diagnosis, and then spent 4 days in Seattle getting well enough to fly, or so I thought. It’s been a hell of a month. I’ve gotten a lot questions about where I’ve been and how come I’ve been so quiet here and in real life, so I decided I need to write Laura vs MRSA part one.

How it all Started

We’ll start about 3 weeks back when I was prepping for my trip to New Orleans as part of a Social Media team with Kitchen Play. #TeamFreshSummit was something I was looking forward to, making new connections in the produce world, trying new products and meeting the people behind the products. The weekend before I left I had a bump on my foot, right on the top above my toes. It was swollen and it hurt. So much so that I decided to go to Urgent Care before my trip to make sure I could fly. I found out I had cellulitis, an infection in the skin on my foot. No mention of a boil or wound of any sort as an entry point. Except I do have psoriasis on that foot so I assumed it was the source of the cellulitus. I was given the ok to fly and so off I went.

Once in the air though it became fairly obvious that something was seriously wrong. Between Anchorage and Seattle my foot became too painful to walk on. And what’s worse is that I was late getting out of Anchorage and missed my connection out of Seattle. In hindsight that was a plus for me, I’d have tried to go on to Chicago and then NOLA. But because I’d missed my flight Alaska Airlines put me up in a hotel for the night and I got a good rest. But when I woke up in the morning I couldn’t put a shoe on my foot. I checked out and headed for the nearest in network hospital.

“infection”

At the Emergency Room I was told I had an “infection” in my foot and they needed to drain the abscess that had formed on the plane. They did, it hurt, I cried, but the pain was significantly less. I found a nice little hotel to stay in, one that had a free breakfast I could enjoy without leaving the hotel. That seemed important to me because at this point all tickets I’d purchased were void or had exorbitant rescheduling fees. I was feeling very broke, and very alone and thought bare minimum I can eat once a day, at least. My husband was back in Alaska, worried for sure, and trying to be me and himself, which left him frazzled. We just couldn’t afford for him to come down and rescue me. All I needed was a few days to recuperate and then I’d fly home. Luckily for me the hotel I managed to book online was wonderful. They had a little cafe that served dinner each night for a decent price, filled the fridge with water bottles and helped in any way they could.

Oh MRSA!

I spent the next three days trying to get well enough to fly home, but by Friday midday I had to go get bandages and supplies. When I got back to my room I got a call from the hospital lab asking me if I was taking all my medicines. When I told them I was, they then asked about my foot. When I said it was a little more sore than yesterday and it hurt to walk again they advised me to come in. I didn’t want to but I did and I am glad I did. Once in the ER the kind doctor seeing me bluntly said “you know you have MRSA right?” and I burst into tears.

I’d heard the horror stories of people going to the hospital for one thing and getting a MRSA infection and dying. And I had that in my foot. I could hardly control myself but I asked about what my chances for survival were. He was sympathetic and kind and told me I had a mild case, a 2 on a scale of 1-10. He said because I’d been diligent about taking the medicines, diligent about resting and recuperating and going to the Urgent Care and the ER, I’d caught it early. It was still incredibly dangerous, it could spread, and would need extensive rest and elevation and wound packing. He did give me the ok to fly home as long as my foot was WELL wrapped, completely covered and taped over. The only thing showing out of the surgery shoe they gave me to wear was two of my toes. I’d never wished for a pedicure more in my life than the day they gave me that shoe.

PART TWO coming next week

I’ll finish this story next week. But I will say I’ve had to let some HUGE commitments go, I’ve disappointed people, broken contracts, missed work obligations, and to top it off I was put on restrictive bed rest, flat on my back with my foot higher than my heart.  It’s been tough for us financially, mentally and physically. We’re exhausted, broke and trying to hold it together as the bills roll in.