The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men

The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men

There are times when the Fates, being bored with the orderly events of our lives, decide to mix things up, and create havoc as only they can do. This seems especially true when men, in their hubris, are reaching out for a long sought goal, unmindful of how easily this can be snatched from them.

Miki and I had been planning a dream vacation to Patagonia, then the Lake District of Chile, followed by crossing the Andes by bus and by boat, traversing those majestic peaks to Bariloche, the famed Argentinian ski and nature resort. A couple I had known for more years than I care to admit were going to accompany us, also excited by the prospect of shared adventure. All the plans had been carefully crafted, hard to get reservations secured at the Torres del Paine, arguably the most scenic of national parks in all of Chile, and we were ready to depart.

A week before our trip, I visited my doctor for a routine office check-up accompanied by an in-office minor procedure. Within two days, I was experiencing fever, chills, and all the signs pointing to serious sepsis. I started antibiotics, informed my doctor, and received reassurance that all should be OK by the time we were ready to depart. After a couple of days, I had indeed improved, but I was far from well. I was then switched over to IV antibiotics pending receipt of the result of the cultures that were done, hoping to rapidly beat this unwanted foe into quick submission.

The IV antibiotics seemed to improve things considerably, and my spirits were buoyed until the culture results came back. Seems as though I contracted one of the worst bug known to our science, a multi-drug resistant organism that was unfazed by any of the drugs I had so far been given, and which requires a 4-6 week course of our most potent (and toxic) medications given IV twice a day for there to be a reasonable chance of a cure.

Needless to say, I couldn’t take the risk of traveling under these conditions to a place that was at least a five-hour drive from the closest outpost of civilization, and a 4 hour flight from there to a US equivalent medical facility. Our trip was already paid for, and most of the money was non-refundable. Our friends had already cleared their schedule for the holiday, and wouldn’t have tackled this journey on their own without our expertise to guide them through it. I convinced Miki that she had to go with them, and enjoy herself despite my inability to partake in our dream. She very reluctantly agreed, and from the sound of her e-mails, is enjoying the holiday.

Since I have to be in the hospital every twelve hours for my antibiotics, I decided I might as well work on a limited basis, which I have been doing. Other than the disappointment of not being part of something I had been planning and looking forward to for some time, I’m doing OK. Taking a shower one-handed is a challenge (try it some time and see) and being poked with needles gets old after a while, but if the infection clears up, I’m more than willing to have this be the worst tragedy of my life.

Friends have been very supportive, calling to check in on me, inviting me over to their homes to share a meal, and expressing their concern for my welfare.  I suppose there is benefit in being reminded of what it feels like to be on the other side of the bed, something most physicians intellectually understand, but not necessarily viscerally experience, until they are anxiously awaiting the result of a test or being subjected to the small tortures of being poked with needles or the more significant pains of the underlying disease. I’m sure I will be more empathic after this experience than I might have been before. There is some good that comes out of everything. Or so I keep encouraging myself.

Be well,

J.

 

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