Hot Electric Quicksand #20

This will be my last post for the Unite 2 Fight Paralysis blog.

As any vgrafen reader will know, I comment on any and all subjects that come into my world; I hold back very little. Unfortunately, however, U2FP, because it is a non-profit entity, has limitations on what can be said politically, or they’ll be in jeopardy of losing their tax-exempt status, I’m told.

Not one to sit still while my metaphysical wings are clipped, I’ve decided to move on to other projects.

I want to thank the directors of U2FP for providing me this space for as long as they have, and I wish them good luck down the road with the fight we’re all committed to winning: curing paralysis.

My health is still of prime concern, and in truth, I am still struggling with my illness, though that has had no bearing on my decision to leave U2FP. Rest assured ‘ol v is not quietly idling off to the sidelines, not in this, one of the most important political years in memory.

Those of you wishing to stay abreast of what and where I’m off to next can reach me at: vgrafen@hotmail.com.

At any rate, and again, thanks to U2FP for putting up with me, and for all those who’ve enjoyed my Hot Electric Quicksand scribblings.

Until then, onward…

vgrafen

Hot Electric Quicksand #19

I will be out of commission starting this Wednesday, when I begin an in-home wound vac treatment with IV Vancomycin for however long it may take.

I’m not gonna blame her too greatly, but my Nurse Practitioner, against the advice of a surgeon and the docs at UC Davis, felt I’d be ok with a return to Augmentin, which I have undertaken, and wouldn’t need wound vac. Seemed odd to me and my wife; Pia talked to several other docs since then and determined I needed better care; I was able to get checked at UC Davis and it was confirmed I have MRSA; they set up the in-home treatment to begin this week. One-two-three, no screwing around.

I’d been taking Augmentin till last week and was actually feeling better; perhaps it was just the flu ending and leaving me with just the infection, for Augmentin isn’t supposed to work against MRSA, but I am not in the chill/fever/sweat phase I was in, and the wound looks better. Still, I am grateful I will be on an aggressive treatment which I pray will put an end to this endlessness. I’ll be essentially bed-ridden for however long, but I am committed to ending this wound/infection and getting back to living.

I deeply empathize with anyone struggling with this infection. It is insidious; just when you think you’re doing better, bam! you ain’t.

I got a phone call on Saturday from the mother of a girl in one of the SCI peer groups up here; the girl, 15 years old and t-8, has had MRSA since July and just can’t beat it. Unlike myself, with a wound below my injury site, she has to deal abscesses on her back and neck, where she can feel, along with several on her ass. Excruciating pain, constantly infected, close to suicide; I gave what little support I could, mentioned turmeric and a few other alternates but really couldn’t give much more. As we both noted, it’s the endlessness of the condition, never seeing progress, that is exhausting, along with the physical misery. Terrible shit.

But the weather is beautiful today in Butte Valley, so I’m gonna head outside and smoke a cigar after a short bowl of the kind, try to stand up for awhile, eat some dinner and get ready for Christmas. Usually this is a wonderful time of year for my wife and I, but this year it’s almost an after-thought, due in large part to my health. Thankfully I have not been hospitalized, and hopefully this next treatment will kill the bug and close the wound. I will be a patient patient, believe me! I look forward to taking some of the burden off my wife’s shoulders, and returning to a state of activity.

Until I am allowed computer time again, I am signing off. Merry Christmas to all, and a Happy -and healthy- New Year!
~

(Note: My book, ‘Scouring the globe for a cure: a disabled man’s experiences with stem cell treatment’
can be purchased at the following Web address:
www.booklocker.com/books/2857.html)

Hot Electric Quicksand #18

Looks like the infection is abating. Awaiting word on whether or not I’ll have flap surgery or wound vac or just let it heal. Feeling better on some fronts, weighed down on others, and sickened by several more…

Doesn’t feel like Christmas, whatever that means, but being sick for months on end doesn’t lend itself to holiday cheer. Oh, I’ll kick it in, I’m sure, but the season has been filled with a lot of tension since Thanksgiving. Yeah, my sister-in-law can’t let it go, and my accusation that the feminists are doing nothing in the face of Islamic/hip hop ‘feminine terrorism’ has unsettled her. At the risk of offending female readers, she is typical of many women I encounter today: fiercely concerned with defending whatever position she holds dear, fighting tooth and nail until the ‘enemy’ is vanquished, and unable/unwilling to admit when she’s wrong/mistaken. It’s almost as if it’s a crime to challenge a woman’s views, or at the very least, it’s offensive. The first instinct is to attack, and once the fighting begins, not much else can happen.

This is a decidedly American female thing.  In my view, another failure of feminism: unleashing women to explore the world without giving them, or demanding they acquire, adequate survival tools. I didn’t say ‘critical thinking skills,’ a fraudulent discipline in my view for its aim of weeding out all contradiction and putting thought in a linear order. I said ‘adequate survival skills,’ and I mean: the ability to laugh at oneself;  the ability to pull away from a fight/engagement; the ability to look past one’s opinion and consider the thoughts of another person who may not share the same opinion. Feminism has given women the sense that they can compete in the workplace with any man, and should be accorded the same rights as men have long enjoyed. No fight from me on that, but it seems feminism hasn’t been able to rest of its victories, yet can’t sort out its priorities.

I’m more concerned lately with the creation of a nation of free-sex, no-consequence sluts. My youngest son is overwhelmed by girls throwing themselves at him, expecting sex and right now! He’s effing 14, for G’s sake, but young girls have been trained to go get what they want, and that sex without consequence  is something they’re entitled to. Funny but my son prefers Latin girls now, and seems disgusted by American girls who are so ‘available’. Self-respect has been omitted, and don’t wear a condom if you don’t want.

“Latin girls know how to play, Pops,” he said the other day, “they have more fun but you have to chase them, and I like that. You don’t have to chase the girls at school, they chase you.”

Rome burns and the only people that can save us, the women, are out shaking their asses. Fuck it, it’s the white man’s fault anyway…

Hot Electric Quicksand #17

It has been a terrible November, and December …ain’t takin’ off too well, either!

Spent all of November on my side, trying to heal the wound on my ass. It had tunneled to the bone, and then became re-infected. Finally convinced my docs to put me on 7 day Vancomycin, which they did. Pure hell, horrible drug, made me sicker than ever. In the days following the treatment, I didn’t seem to be ‘weller’; I put myself back on Augmentin, which had shown signs of being effective against the MRSA beast, along with a heavy regimen of turmeric and other alternative therapies. Right as I began this change, I came down with the flu; yep, fevers chills, the works, headaches…then several days of diarrhea. Geez, unreal.

Somehow, the wound actually appeared to be healing through it all, so I stayed in bed, did as little as possible upright, and by last week, began to begin feeling better. Right now I’m battling the lung aspect of the flu, another lovely manifestation, but the infection in the wound seems to be -wait, where’s some wood?- better. I met with a surgeon late last week who said, “Hey, it doesn’t look that bad, we’ll test for bone infection, and if it ain’t there, you may not need flap surgery, maybe just a wound vac treatment. Your wife did and excellent job with the wound, by the way.” Indeed, she’s been ill herself but has been keeping me from getting ‘iller’.

Today, I’m a shade better, more energetic, focused, and determined to heal. It’s getting harder to lay in bed during the day, but I have no choice, clearly. I have a long road to go before I can return to normal activity, and December is my duck hunting month, but I won’t be banging quacks anytime soon. There are…other priorities.

Hot Electric Quicksand #16

Folks, this will be short and…well, certainly not sweet:

I have had an health collapse. My infection exploded and I have been put on 7 day outpatient IV Vancomycin treatment; horrible, disgusting stuff, poisons the soul and nothing tastes remotely good.
I concluded the IVs yesterday, my arms a pin cushion of blown veins and yet another attempt to insert.

I came home to find my docs, and the wound care nurse, are recommending I see a surgeon, for skin flap surgery. Son of a bucktaldo, surgery. My fault, too,  I’d been cavalier and kept at my normal routines, Ironman as usual, and basically ignored the growing wound on my ischium, more concerned with the fucking MRSA. Well, now I’m fucked, I’m essentially bed-ridden and my thoughts of,  ‘well, it’ll heal by itself’ or ‘I’ll just do wound vac and be up and around’ are fantasies.  I await word on my visit with the surgeon, but my RN wife says, “It’s deep, ugly and bad; it may be surgery is needed. And it looks like you’re still infected.”

Shite…

And I now must shut everything down and concentrate and commit to my healing. I am no Ironman, I have been blasé and even arrogant, and now I’m paying for it.

Thus, I am sidelining myself from activity. I will report next…when things are better.
~
(Note: My book, ‘Scouring the globe for a cure: a disabled man’s experiences with stem cell treatment’
can be purchased at the following Web address:
www.booklocker.com/books/2857.html)

Hot Electric Quicksand #15

Just got an Ease Cushion to use on my wound, along with a Trucker’s Seat; both employ alternating air cells, which add and release pressure in constant patterns. The makers claim it really helps with pressure sores, and I was convinced to buy the system after talking to a guy here locally who uses one and cured himself of a stage 4 in only a few months. I’m stage 3, deep as hell, but have got to get this wound healed. Ease Cushion, coincidentally, is right up the road in Paradise.

This is not (yet) an endorsement (anyone with any experience with this cushion, please feel free to comment); if things heal up, you damn well better believe I’ll sing their praises, but for now, at least I’m getting some circulation into the area.

Still not feeling well; feverish and achy, tired, not mentally crisp. MRSA is stalled for now, but it’s the wound that I think is really kicking me.
~
Despite being still sick and limp, I was in SF this weekend for the Niners game (don’t ask), some awesome North Beach Italian food, and to drop in on an SCI peer group in the east bay. They’d asked me to come down, and I was about to decline but Pia said, “I need to go to SF, and that group always was lively and fun; let’s go.”

Yes, ma’am, we go.

After my speech on recent stem cell advancements and what’s at stake next year politically, they opened up the floor for some a free forum/anything goes discussions. Nobody really gave a shit about future possibilities, everybody pretty bleak, but talk soon went to relationships, and it really hit the fan when a young couple stood up and described their problems (2 years post, he’s C-4/5 complete):

Heather’s vibrant, young, intelligent, ambitious, and beautiful; Steven’s dependent, frightened, and passive, and they weren’t really doing well before the injury (skydiving) and now she blames him for “destroying my future” (not theirs, but hers). She has struck him several times, left him in bed for hours without food, drink or his chair, and then 2 weeks ago, out of the blue, she brought over a male ‘friend’ for Steven to meet.

Yep, another man, and in this case (wow, it all spilled out in the meeting, every sordid detail, Steven just dying in front of us), a lover whom she’d been ‘seeing’ since July, but felt now was the time to reveal him.

You may all scream ‘abuser!’ but hold off for a moment.

Hot Electric Quicksand #14

Tough times lately, folks. Been bed-ridden for 2 weeks trying to close the wound on my ass and overcome the extreme fatigue of this latest abscess/MRSA round. I’m getting better, the abscess is dying out, hopefully, and the wound has no necrosis; whew!  I’m effing skinny, though; damn lousy way to drop weight, I’ll tell ya, ‘the vgrafen staph infection diet, guaranteed to strip all unwanted fat, plus some muscle mass, right off the body!’

They’re calling me ‘the Gaunt Man’ lately, that wan, sallow fellow…

Food is beginning to appeal to me, though, augmented by some fresh harvest Bubba Cush straight from the organic grow fields of —– at 2800 feet in the Sierras.

I’ll get there, gotta get into my hot tub soon and can’t with an open wound. And geez, duck season started this weekend; the kid’s gotta be healthy to get into the blind…
~
Many of you probably read about the MRSA scare in the news lately, and while that’s good in one sense to increase public exposure to the ravages of this illness, the media did a great dis-service by saying this is a new, super-bug we can’t stop. As I’ve been saying, it ain’t new, been around for decades and the docs and clinicians damn well have experience with it, and there are effective treatments. That said, it is, as an infectious disease doc told me earlier this year, potentially an epidemic, and it is sweeping locker rooms and public facilities. The community-based MRSA, which I have, is resistant to most antibiotics, though there are a handful that will kill it but require hospitalization (Vancomycin for one).

Personally, I’m hoping (what a foolish thing to cling to, eh? Hope; what a whore she is…) that I’m rid of the bug, as yesterday was my last antibiotic; they’d put me on a whopper of a regimen: Flaggyl for E. Coli, Augmentin, Septra and another oral I’d already tried before for MRSA but the doc seemed confident it would work this time. Hmmm. I’m back on my turmeric and baking soda/citrus-alkalizer mix. We’ll see, but my strength is coming back, and the brain fog diminishing… kinda.

Hot Electric Quicksand #13

‘When one can taste good health, the world is sweet, one’s eyelids open; when the taste of living makes you vomit, life sours and the eyes are veiled…”
The poet, L. Robuis

Talk about veiled eyes, man, this last round of misery has been a doozie. Yep, got re-infected from the diarrhea, another abscess formed and sickened me and only when it burst and Pia began draining it did my desire to taste what is sweet in life return; until then, all was sickened in me, poisoned again.

I have pounded this putrid horse before, but MRSA abscesses and the resultant sepsis are nightmarish and about the worst experiences I have endured, save my actual injury. As the abscess reaches boiling point, the entire body is poisoned; one cannot eat, drink, even breathe without the threat of nausea, everything once beloved turns revolting, all smells disgust, you feel an agony without limit, coursing the entire sleepless, aching body, and it must be endured to survive, for survival again is at stake and there were moments last Wednesday when the flames of Hades nipped and leapt about me, threatening survival…

I have muscled through the antibiotics again, and I am improving now each day. I am not free of MRSA -perhaps I may have it to the end of my days- and in truth, I am doing all I can to keep its ravages at bay, but I feel better and the poisoned grip of the abating abscess is weakening. I am beginning to smell life’s sweetness again…
~
And yet…

Hot Electric Quicksand #12

Out of the number of maladies I’ve dealt with in my 8 years of chair-dom, I must attest that diarrhea, going on now 9 days, with an ugly, feverish buildup all the previous week, has been one of the most challenging.

I haven’t had to deal with the big D in those years save mild one-day things, but this one, and coupled with ongoing MRSA, and an open wound where the diarrhea, once several showers have been taken and the bandage has come off exposing the wound, now 3 months and counting, to the…flow of effluence emanating 5, 6, 7 times daily…

This one…is trying.

Gut extended like a Biafran, appetite then none, cold, effing cold, and it’s only 70’s. The wound, only days ago looking good, ain’t so lately. A parasite I picked up on the road and should be tested for and probably drugged? A gastrointestinal virus of some sort that just does it thing then moves on, drugs and treatments be damned? A spirit that doesn’t like me and has decided to make my autumn miserable?

It may be, and I’m going to the doc in about an hour, that the MRSA has gathered renewed strength due to my weakened GI tract, and is assailing me big-time. Seems a dormant boil exploded yesterday, and the misery I’m experiencing may be due to its return. Or, MRSA got into my GI tract and that’s what’s been taking me out of the game. Yesterday was one of the worst days I’ve experienced all year, and I slept poorly and am exhausted -and worthless- today.

I’m sharing this with you again with that sense of urgency Fall brings, a clutching of the chest in melancholic reflection remembering -and watching- Time, and its Seasons, pass; and from the idea that this misery I’m living is shared and in many cases oh, so more worse than my own state of decay, but bear with me, the description of the misery, the sitting in rank diarrhea and being unable to immediately clean oneself, like a baby in diapers yet plagued by the very adult awareness of knowing I’m sitting in shit, the agony of humiliation, perhaps not shared by all plegics, but felt deeply in this one, this description must be heard, and felt, too, by our nation, and our nation must respond.

Our nation must invest in curing its crippled. I’m sick of this condition, that’s why I’ve traveled about looking for any sort of relief, and probably will again. The condition is intolerable, yet it must be tolerated, accepted, dealt with; the condition eventually must return you to the world, or you rot.

In my travels now, I have seen much rot; now, my own. An end to this nightmarish shit, geez! Enough!

Hot Electric Quicksand #11

Biggest news I can think of is the Kevin Everett spinal cord injury during the NFL’s first weekend of games. C-3 complete, though he had some sensation initially, yet his primary doc, guy named Cappuccino, immediately declared him ’likely never to walk again’. I heard that shit myself the day after my own injury (thanks for the upbeat prognosis). Yet only one day later, Cappuccino had reversed field, with the startling news that Everett was now moving upper and lower extremities! Talk about a turnaround. Seems within the first 20 minutes after his injury, and with Cappuccino in contact with Miami Project’s Barth Green, Everett was given ice-cold saline solution IVs, in the hope of inducing hypothermia which in turn would keep the ravages of inflammation to a minimum. Later, they used a different technique in administering even more cold saline, and wa-la! a day after he was proclaimed ‘paralyzed for life’, Everett’s moving, albeit modestly, but moving nonetheless.

What a beautiful, tortured can of worms this opens up. First off, I must offer condolences, congratulations and best wishes to Everett and his family; glad to see he MAY have significant return of function, which remains to be seen, of course, and clearly he isn’t going to walk out of the hospital in a few days nor will he be returning to the football field with a titanium plate in his neck (‘course you never know with athletes; that’s all we know, our playing fields).

Can of worms? Well, if this is an effective acute therapy, and as some have claimed, its benefits have been speculated about since the 70’s, every damn plegic still breathing has got to ask, ‘Wait a minute, why the eff wasn’t this done to me?’ OK, it wasn’t perfected back then or even lately; delivery was a hassle, they hadn’t really tested it, whatever the reasons but it hasn’t been widely applied.  Until now, and from this day forward, every acute injury SHOULD BE demanding similar treatment. Sure, methyl prednisone was used along with the saline, he was decompressed and stabilized, and all told, the entire effort probably meant little long-term loss of function, but if this method actually works, and his recovery is not simply due to his conditioning or the hated assertion, “I vowed I would overcome, and with God’s help, and my strong will…” (yeah, hated because those that ‘come back’ from the abyss known as acute paralysis evidently are more favored by God than those who don’t, or possess greater will and/or courage than the rest of us, assertions I flatly defy) then this method has got to be universally instituted, immediately.