So.
Remember that new factory job I had and quit? Funny thing, three weeks after they called me back and begged me to return. Yup. I made them beg and grovel a little bit. It is good to see a millionaire beg.
Well, anyway, I have been back for a few weeks now, with a new title, twice the money, and much more grouchy squid-style cussing. Its good to be the king...
Well, that is until last wednesday. There is an old shrapnel scar on my forehead, just inside the hairline. Very small scar. One can only see it if I have shaved my head and point it out.. Wednesday when I woke up, it hurt a bit when I put my cover on. By thursday it had swelled up and was a bit red. By friday, I couldn't wear a cover it was so raw and swollen. Plus, the entire left side of my forehead all the way to my ear and cheekbone hurt. My left eye was red and watery. I had a massive f*cking headache.
So, being me, I did the only logical thing- Got home, downed a double of Maker's Mark, busted out the scalpel, lidocaine I made in Organic Chemistry a year back and 22 gauge syringe. Numbed that bitch up and prepared to lance what I thought was a boil.
Yeah, it was nasty. I'll save you the details, but that thing was FULL, if you get my drift...
So I flushed it with saline and a bit of anhydrous ethanol for good measure, and let it dry a bit. Slapped a squid's best friend, Super Glue in the small incision, and called it a night.
All good right?
Wrong.
Woke up Saturday morning and found that the lymph node on my left jaw, right in front of my ear was a good 12mm across and rock hard.That whole quadrant of my head felt like it was on fire. The swelling and ulceration I had cleaned out the day before had filled back up and then some.
So I carefully removed the dried Super Glue, drained it, and flushed it out again. Then I headed down to the ER at the VA hospital before things got any worse.
That was my real mistake.
"Oh Christ! ITS SHINGLES!" or so the nurse claimed. Then the ER resident made the same claim as did a few others in scrubs. No exam, no tests, just instant infectious disease isolation, followed by a bottle of anti-virals and they sent me home.
Now mind you, I am no medical doctor. I have a long way to go on my PhD too, but I'm no idiot addicted to that bullshit WebMD crap. I know what shingles looks like. What I have is an ulcerated, subdermal infection, not a pustular rash. Other than topical pain, I have no symptoms of shingles. I am in pretty damn good health these days. I'm barely middle aged and not in any way immunocompromised.
But, freely admitting I'm no MD, I ate their damned silly pills, and went back to work. By lunch on monday, it had grown in size to almost 30mm across and 10mm high. Left work and went back to the VA ER.
"OH no it's shingles boy again!"
I had to get grouchy with them. Then gave them a revolting demonstration of how my head was holding about 4ccs of the nastiest looking and smelling guck one can ooze and still be alive and continent. SQUIRCH!
In true VA fashion, six and half hours and eight doctors in five departments later...
They clean it out, the exact same way I had been doing it, and find a shard of shrapnel that had been working it's way out and got inflamed.
Through the blood and tears I gave the Docs and nurses a withering look. Hey, that many folks digging in your scalp HURTS, lidocaine or not!
"So, I guess I can quit these damned anti-virals and trade them in for an antibiotic, right?"
"Oh no, you might still have shingles!"
Goddamned morons. Even the ones that can't be sued are afraid of getting sued. The opthamologist shoo'd them all away, cut me a scrip for some mid grade broad spectrum antibiotics, and cut me loose, agreeing that her co-workers are alarmist and paranoid.
So anyway, here we are today, my head doesn't hurt, the topical pain is all but gone, my head is the normal shape again, and everything is fine save that they had to shave around the wound so I look like a monk with an entry hole....
Worst part is, they wouldn't let me keep that hunk o' shrapnel to add to my "Jar O' random metal Docs have dug out of me"!
I'm pissed off about that. That little vial of tiny brass, copper, lead and DU bits is braggin' rights! Now it is all screwed up at 22 bits out of 24 extractions.
SO, moral of my story is, sometimes it is better to be more patient and dig a little deeper when performing minor surgery on yourself.;)
Remember that new factory job I had and quit? Funny thing, three weeks after they called me back and begged me to return. Yup. I made them beg and grovel a little bit. It is good to see a millionaire beg.
Well, anyway, I have been back for a few weeks now, with a new title, twice the money, and much more grouchy squid-style cussing. Its good to be the king...
Well, that is until last wednesday. There is an old shrapnel scar on my forehead, just inside the hairline. Very small scar. One can only see it if I have shaved my head and point it out.. Wednesday when I woke up, it hurt a bit when I put my cover on. By thursday it had swelled up and was a bit red. By friday, I couldn't wear a cover it was so raw and swollen. Plus, the entire left side of my forehead all the way to my ear and cheekbone hurt. My left eye was red and watery. I had a massive f*cking headache.
So, being me, I did the only logical thing- Got home, downed a double of Maker's Mark, busted out the scalpel, lidocaine I made in Organic Chemistry a year back and 22 gauge syringe. Numbed that bitch up and prepared to lance what I thought was a boil.
Yeah, it was nasty. I'll save you the details, but that thing was FULL, if you get my drift...
So I flushed it with saline and a bit of anhydrous ethanol for good measure, and let it dry a bit. Slapped a squid's best friend, Super Glue in the small incision, and called it a night.
All good right?
Wrong.
Woke up Saturday morning and found that the lymph node on my left jaw, right in front of my ear was a good 12mm across and rock hard.That whole quadrant of my head felt like it was on fire. The swelling and ulceration I had cleaned out the day before had filled back up and then some.
So I carefully removed the dried Super Glue, drained it, and flushed it out again. Then I headed down to the ER at the VA hospital before things got any worse.
That was my real mistake.
"Oh Christ! ITS SHINGLES!" or so the nurse claimed. Then the ER resident made the same claim as did a few others in scrubs. No exam, no tests, just instant infectious disease isolation, followed by a bottle of anti-virals and they sent me home.
Now mind you, I am no medical doctor. I have a long way to go on my PhD too, but I'm no idiot addicted to that bullshit WebMD crap. I know what shingles looks like. What I have is an ulcerated, subdermal infection, not a pustular rash. Other than topical pain, I have no symptoms of shingles. I am in pretty damn good health these days. I'm barely middle aged and not in any way immunocompromised.
But, freely admitting I'm no MD, I ate their damned silly pills, and went back to work. By lunch on monday, it had grown in size to almost 30mm across and 10mm high. Left work and went back to the VA ER.
"OH no it's shingles boy again!"
I had to get grouchy with them. Then gave them a revolting demonstration of how my head was holding about 4ccs of the nastiest looking and smelling guck one can ooze and still be alive and continent. SQUIRCH!
In true VA fashion, six and half hours and eight doctors in five departments later...
They clean it out, the exact same way I had been doing it, and find a shard of shrapnel that had been working it's way out and got inflamed.
Through the blood and tears I gave the Docs and nurses a withering look. Hey, that many folks digging in your scalp HURTS, lidocaine or not!
"So, I guess I can quit these damned anti-virals and trade them in for an antibiotic, right?"
"Oh no, you might still have shingles!"
Goddamned morons. Even the ones that can't be sued are afraid of getting sued. The opthamologist shoo'd them all away, cut me a scrip for some mid grade broad spectrum antibiotics, and cut me loose, agreeing that her co-workers are alarmist and paranoid.
So anyway, here we are today, my head doesn't hurt, the topical pain is all but gone, my head is the normal shape again, and everything is fine save that they had to shave around the wound so I look like a monk with an entry hole....
Worst part is, they wouldn't let me keep that hunk o' shrapnel to add to my "Jar O' random metal Docs have dug out of me"!
I'm pissed off about that. That little vial of tiny brass, copper, lead and DU bits is braggin' rights! Now it is all screwed up at 22 bits out of 24 extractions.
SO, moral of my story is, sometimes it is better to be more patient and dig a little deeper when performing minor surgery on yourself.;)
