The district nurse, Liz, came today to change the dressing on my foot as per usual, only today she was concerned that it looked markedly worse than it did the previous week (here’s an up to date photo - be warned: it’s not nice!). As I have just finished a course of antibiotics to kill off an infection, it was her diagnosis that the infection had come back with a vengeance - not only were both my feet swollen, but there seemed to be a new patch of ulcer breaking out on the top of my right foot.
So, she called my doctor’s surgery and asked for a home visit and the nice (and very thorough) Dr. Campion came to see me. He agreed with the nurse and called the specialist I’ve been seeing, Mr. Downings, to get me an appointment as soon as possible. It turned out that he had a clinic in the afternoon, so I went and saw him.
He basically said that my foot was getting worse (duh!) and that if it continued this way then eventually I would lose it.
He said he wanted to give me some antibiotics intravenously and do a few other things to me (medical things, you sickos) and I would need to be admitted tomorrow and stay for a week. I pointed out that this meant I would be in over Christmas - he simply said: “Yes, I know.”
Now, I know I said I don’t want to do anything over Christmas: just stay at home and lock the doors, but I really didn’t want to be hospital because: a) I’d be depressed; b) I’d miss Rocco; and c) N would be on her own.
After some discussion, he conceded that it wasn’t vitally important that I go in tomorrow and so he agreed to prescribe me some antibiotics to take and admit me next Tuesday or Wednesday instead - this means I’ll miss New Year, but I’m not too concerned about that. But (and it’s a big but), the nurse is coming Friday for my dressing change and if she thinks that the wound has gotten worse still, then I would have to be admitted by my GP as an emergency.
So, fingers, legs, toes and eyes crossed that there’s no discernible deterioration between now and Friday or I’ll be sharing my turkey with a bunch of nurses.
I know there are loads of people who spend Christmas in hospital, patients and staff, and my heart goes out to them, but I don’t want to leave Rocco and N on their own.