UPDATE:
TL;DR version: A blood test and CATscan shows that while my leg is badly infected, there is no pustule, thus no leg surgery is required at this time. I have been returned to the (awful) Rehab center after I.V. antibiotics, wound treatment, et cetera.
Longer version: After many painful hours lying flat on my back and being shuffled from place to place by large groups of people with slide-boards moving me from interspersed with long anxious wais completely alone in freezing rooms, my ER doctor came in with the news. The CATscan showed that while my leg was very badly infected, no surgery will be required unless something takes a big turn for the worst.
So, a few questions:
Question 1: Did JTG panic and over-state the situation and freak out a bunch of people unnecessarily?
Answer 1: No, JTG’s panic came directly from the wound doctor’s words and actions.
When my wound doctor uncovered my leg wound and saw it for the first time in a week, he had a look of great shock on his face. As I am a more unusual patient with more medical and scientific knowledge than many patients, my doctor was able to point to the wound and to the large swelling over the knee and surrounding tissue. He pointed to the bright red color surrounding the wound and the warmth of that red skin. He noted that the wound and surrounding area were very painful to the touch. My wound doctor kept muttering “I’m glad I saw this today...” over and over. He was a character and at one point he asked me “do you mind if I swear?” and I said “no” and he did. He said that someone would be doing surgery on my leg that night. He had a look of great concern and anxiety and tone in his voice. He described in graphic detail the procedure that he thought would have happened. (GRAPHIC ALERT) My wound doctor said that my leg would be sliced open and a large pustule would be drained. Then over several weeks or more it would be cleaned, packed with fabric, and changed 2-4 times a day until (if) it healed. That would be happening in the hospital.
My wound doctor made immediate arrangements for me to be transported to the hospital. He said it would be several hours. I had not eaten since lunch and he told the nurses NOT to feed me dinner or give me anything to drink.
I started packing up my stuff to go to the hospital, not expecting to return to rehab for days, weeks, or perhaps ever. However, the incompetence of the local medical system manifested itself again, but this time, for once, in my favor. A few minutes after he left, and I typed the first few lines of this diary, three paramedics in full gear came into my room followed a few minutes later by several ambulance drivers. It turns out that my doctor had called for a “facilities transfer” transfer, which Is a routine, calm, nonemergency transfer of a patient between medical facilities. However, the rehab facility screwed up and sent out a “Code 3” which means here roughly, “full life or death, full speed, lights and sirens down the freeway”. I say it worked out for me that instead of waiting 4-8 hours before a routine transfer I was on my way to the hospital in less than an hour.
So I got to the hospital and they wheeled me into “TRAUMA ROOM 2” where I spent the next few hours lying very uncomfortably on a too-small hospital bed. I made a few updates in the comments but ultimately had to stop making updates to save the phone battery as the battery got weak.
QUESTION 2: Did my wound doctor make an error and misjudge the potential seriousness of my wound?
ANSWER 2: No. The reaction of the E.R. doctor to viewing my leg wound was virtually identical to the reaction of my wound doctor.
The ER doctor said that the best-case scenario was that it was only an infection, no pustule, and no surgery required. However, he said it with a tone that implied that the best-case scenario was extremely unlikely, like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny decided to give me an unbirthday present. In other words, possible but not likely.
The ER doctor described to me much the same expected procedure as the wound doctor, i.e. surgery, packing of the pustule, etc. He added that there was also a possibility of, as he put it, “going down the rabbit hole.” In other words, he considered based on what he saw that amputation was not out of the question.
Afterward, when the results came back with the Santa Claus/bunny good news, I asked the ER doctor if the wound doctor had been overly gloomy in the diagnosis and the ER doctor said no. He said that from the appearance of the wound, at first, the conclusion that I would require surgery was the most likely one. As I am a very large man, my leg had swollen up extra-large as well. It was not until they did a CATscan that they were able to see for sure that there was no pustule to be cut open and drained.
HOWEVER, if my wound doctor had waited another couple of days to see me, or I had been sent home without his viewing my wound, the gloomy prognosis very well have been the case, so it was a “just-in-case” situation.
I was sent back to the rehab facility, this time by routine transport. I got back into my rehab bed and it was very late/very early morning where I fell asleep quickly through most of the morning until now.
I want to thank those of you who commented on my diary. As of now I have not read or replied to all of those comments, but I will do so sometime today. Reading the concern has a boost as I was lying flat on my back on a horribly uncomfortable hospital bed wondering what was about to happen and how the rest of my life would work out. I kept wondering what I would do if I wound up losing a leg. How would I survive? would I become one of those wheelchair-bound homeless people that are all-to-common?
As it is now, I’ll probably spend a few more days in rehab than planned before. I still can’t get up or walk more than a few steps with a walker. My goal is to be able to walk 100 feet with a walker before I let them put me out.
I desperately want to go home to my puppies and kitties. I am so anxiously worried. My friend Robbie said she has only seen three of the four, and I am hoping that is just because the fourth is hiding well when she is there. I am worried about the cats because this is the longest I have ever been away from the two youngest, and I am counting on the food to keep them coming back during my extended absence. I have cried more than one night away in worry about them.
Thank you for your kindness. If you have any questions, please ask in the comments.
#jtg