February 21, 2024 Subversive Selfie Project Post

Today at the end of my 36th daily antibiotics IV treatment, the nurse notified me that I was being referred to an orthopaedic surgeon as the wound therapy doctor did not like the results of the X-Rays I had done last week. That news scared me, and as I sit here in my SUV, feeling empty inside, my eyes stare out into the distance, at the grey grassy properties sitting behind blue super saver fences; and at the surfaces of my vehicle’s interiors that haven’t been cleaned since last summer. There’s a dog barking but I can’t make out where it is but it’s close enough that it muffles the steady stream of traffic slipping east and west half a block in front of me on 16th Avenue.

Yesterday, a wound specialist examined my feet, and treated the main toe that’s been causing me trouble since it split open again just over a month ago. Apparently the bottom wound slices up and connects to the top wound, forming this little hole in my foot. The wound is getting smaller, but the bone is still visible. The pain isn’t too bad, although I’m still taking a Tylenol 3 most afternoons, and the wound itself isn’t bleeding like it was even a week ago. I no longer remove my shoes upon getting home to find blood soaked socks. But it all still depresses me so much.

Another nurse asked me how I was as she hooked me up to the IV today, and I said “I’m okay, I’m alive,” a standard answer I usually give people. She retorted by saying I should be more careful about how I speak about myself, as the universe can hear negativity, and could reward one with more negativity as a result. And deep down, I know she’s right. It’s a curious message to get especially considering the information I received at the end of my session. I just want to feel better again. I’m tired of being tired. Tired of falling behind. Tired of always being behind.

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This was originally posted on Flickr and Instagram.

February 08, 2024 Subversive Selfie Project Post

A year ago today, 9 days had passed since I suffered a stroke my doctor later confessed should have killed me.

A year ago today, I sat in a wheelchair staring out a fourth floor window at the Peace Arch Hospital, which was next to the bed I’d occupied for a few days in a room with 4 other patients. I could see the suburban houses across Russell Avenue reaching out across the distance until they dropped out of sight thanks to the hills that flow down towards Semiahmoo Bay. Beyond the bay sat the lands of the largely rural & undeveloped areas of Northwestern Washington, an area that feels like I’m stepping back in time whenever I go there to see how the Canadian side must have once felt like. Some days the white sun made the clouds pop against the blue backdrop of the sky; on others the wind blew the rain so hard a small part of me was scared it might blow out the 55 year old windows that stood between my room & the outside world.

While my roller coaster temperature had fallen back to normal, my skin was still pocketed with countless maroon hives & acne like pitted bumps. I sat in the chair for what felt like several hours, waiting for a hospital volunteer to wheel me to my new home somewhere on the sixth floor. All of my stuff was in two bags, a plastic one the hospital gave me, where my t-shirt, jeans, belt, socks, and my bumblebee boxers lay crumpled up on top of my black runners. Of all these items of clothing, my boxers were worn the most after my arrival, helping to cover my ass and my junk. But the high fevers I suffered from resulted in them becoming absolutely soaked in sweat so many times that it no longer made sense to keep them on.

The other bag was one I brought with me to the hospital. It had a USB plug with a couple of long lightning cables to keep my iPhone charged; headphones; a book called “The Wisdom of Your Body: Finding Healing, Wholeness, & Connection through Embodied Living“ by Hillary McBride; a small pile of papers from different departments in the hospital from mental health resources to physiotherapy.

I pass by the isolation ward daily now as I get treatment for my feet. What’s weird is I miss it.

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This post originally appeared on Flickr and Instagram.

January 24, 2024 Subversive Selfie Project Post

Everyday now for the last week, the bandages on my feet are changed by the wound therapy nurses at Peace Arch Hospital. And even when wrapped, the blood from the wounds on my left big toe eventually seeps through the bandages & whatever sock I’m wearing. It dries up into a dark, brownish, burgundy colour. An infectious disease expert examined my feet today, finding that the wounds have opened on the top and bottom of my big toe, wide enough that the bone is showing. The blood flow to my feet is strong however, which he says will aid in the healing process. He prescribed six weeks of daily IV antibiotics & wound care therapy.

I’m trying to stay positive. But I feel lost. I’m limited in what I can do, I’m not supposed to put pressure on my feet. On Friday they will hook me up to a PICC-Line (a peripherally inserted central catheter), which the @mayoclinic website describes as being “…a long, thin tube that’s inserted through a vein in your arm & passed through to the larger veins near your heart… It’s generally used to give medications or liquid nutrition. A PICC line can help avoid the pain of frequent needle sticks & reduce the risk of irritation to the smaller veins in your arms.” I’m not sure how I feel about this. No heavy lifting. More housework & yard-work will go undone.

I slept a lot on Wednesday. The antibiotics combined with Tylenol 3 is knocking me out. It’s a repeat of last year all over again. It leaves me feeling so defeated. I want to binge but I’m trying my best not to. I want to cry but crying just embarrasses me. Makes me feel ashamed. Makes me feel weak.

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This picture was originally posted on Flickr and Instagram.

January 23, 2024 Subversive Selfie Project Post

I was late today for my IV #antibiotics & #wound #treatment therapy. There was no parking close to the #hospital today, & once I claimed a spot on the street I found myself staring at the rough spots of worn leather on my SUV’s steering wheel after I had slid the gear into park. I let out a quiet sigh as I turned the ignition to kill the engine & stared down towards the stains of spilled Starbucks and Colas that had dried up into sticky splotches in & around the centre console. The rain was falling in a kind of a thick peaceful myst, like a bucket being emptied in slow motion from the somewhere in the atmosphere high overhead.

There was no long line for registering today, & a pile of boxed up Dell computers sat in the hallway waiting to be brought to life. My right arm was stiff as I proceeded down the hallway, it gets that way when I’m scared, lonely, & stressed. I skipped out on getting any tea, partly because I was late, & partly because I’m super tight on money. If I was smart I would bring my own tea with me from home, but there’s this prickly habit of always running late.

As I sat into the chair for my IV & wound wrapping, an unknown number appears on my iPhone. Not knowing who it is, I let it go to voicemail only to learn a few minutes later that it had been my primary care physician calling to checkin as he received all the paperwork from my ER visit last week. I emailed him back as they worked on my foot & will make an appointment later this week after I get my next round of blood taken for my three month diabetes tests Thursday morning.

I want to cry, but instead I keep quiet & mumble thank you to the nurses when they’re done. Time to go home & pass out.

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This picture was originally posted to Flickr and Instagram.

January 22, 2024 Subversive Selfie Project Post

At Peace Arch Hospital for more antibiotics IV and wound #treatment #therapy. The doctor was annoyed my #blood #sugar level wasn’t on file, and wants me to get it checked… but looking up my test results from last week online, as taken when I was checked into the emergency room, the glucose levels appear to be super high, which doesn’t surprise me given the amount of junk I consumed over the holidays: 25.5. Way. Too. High. I don’t know why he didn’t have access to that result. I’ll print it at home tonight to bring tomorrow.

Since my toe opened up last Tuesday night, I’ve been watching what I eat. I’ve cut way back on juice. No colas or soda pops. More water. More green tea. More salad. No chocolate Reese’s or other candy bars, although one night I did have two scoops of vanilla ice cream. I’m taking my medication and supplements on time. I could cut back on more carbs: still consuming bread. But I get on the kick of eating better only to fall off of it. How do I stay on the right path?

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This photo was originally posted on Flickr and Instagram.

January 21, 2024 Subversive Selfie Project Post

Sometimes I feel like I #manifest this shit that befalls me. It’s day four of my latest round of IV #antibiotics and #wound #treatment #therapy. It’s busy here for a Sunday… for once I actually got here a little bit early, and I was the second person to get hooked up today. I like the 9am start, as it means the @cityofwhiterock won’t get any parking money from me today.

It’s 9:20am, and the nurse just switched from the vial of antibiotics that was hooked up to my IV to some bagged liquid. Usually, I’ve finished around 9:55am, but I’m hoping that will be earlier today. When I finish here, I’ll be off to my Mom’s place to get our two little dogs to take to the #groomers. Then, I’ll sleep a few hours before going to pick them up again. Yesterday was spent mostly #sleeping, as was most of the night. It feels like my body is finally catching up on the sleep it’s missed over the last few years thanks to my #insomnia, but in spite of this I still feel exhausted as I type this into @instagram with my right thumb and left index finger, like I could slip into a coma for months and be more than quite content.

My cough still persists, and I know I’m asking for trouble posting another hospital photo with a mask on. I’ve already had a few conservatives attack me for it on threads I’ve commented on relating to different social and political issues. I’m not sure I’ll ever understand any person’s desire to fall back onto ad hominem attacks, to turn a debate personal by moving away from the subject to something completely unrelated in the manner a high school bully would do.

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This picture was also posted on Flickr and Instagram.

January 20, 2024 Subversive Selfie Project Post

It’s my third day of my latest round of antibiotics IV therapy. Incredible pain in my lower left leg. I can’t have the sugars anymore: I cheated way too much in December. It’s going to kill me. I also need to keep them moisturized properly.

Fever seems to have broken, at most it’s been 101 last night, but today in the 99-100 range. I’m thinking that two days of Tylenol 3s have helped with that. Cough is still persistent though, even started hacking during my IV. The nurse overseeing my IV was empathetic, as she had the flu in December for a good 2-3 weeks: the coughing was the worst she said.

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This post was originally featured on Flickr and Instagram.

January 17, 2024 Subversive Selfie Project Post

I finally got to the PEACE ARCH HOSPITAL at just after 5am to a completely empty ER waiting area. I wrote up a summary of the last week with photos showing the worsening of my feet and particularly my right big toe. Also spoke to everything else that’s been going on - why I have been picking at my scars for example, and why my depression has been making me binge eat junk food. And drinking copious amounts of juice the last few days to deal with my flu. Stupidest move ever maybe.

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This picture was originally posted on Flickr and Instagram.