Thrice Told Tale

Fractal geometric design in which any chosen smaller or larger part is similar when magnified.

You may have noticed a drop in the number of Talking Surf Stories you've received lately. This is because my production level has hit a snag. I've been stuck. 

Everything I've written I've torn up and tossed in the trash. I like to blame it on my spider bite which turned into a case of infectious cellulitis in my left leg. I thought I was out of the woods and back on my feet only to discover that the antibiotics I had taken to fight cellulitis caused a second infection diagnosed as clostridium difficile, aka c-diff.

C-diff is an inflammation of the colon. It's serious. In some cases it can be fatal. My doctor put me on new antibiotic, vancomycin, to negate the c-diff. With the new antibiotic bailing me out of a miserable few days of severe diarrhea, I figured I could move around, try some gentle yoga.

While attempting a simple cat pose with my toes bent, I encountered a new pain in the second toe of my right foot. Within a day that toe swelled to the size of large sausage the color of deep purple. Simple, I thought, I'll just massage that foot and see if I can hasten a quick recovery.

Wrong. That foot followed suit, and puffed up as if I had inflated it with an air pump. This was my heretofore good foot. What was going on?

At urgent care the next morning, the doc showed concern because of recent cellulitis in my left foot and leg. Could it have traveled to my right foot? He called the infectious disease doc and after commiseration decided to put me back on antibiotics to treat possible cellulitis, while also extending the vancomycin as a preventive measure against more c-diff.

I found myself on double antibiotics. The battle in my body was incurring yet another invader. 

I'm not a guy who likes pills or staying put. I've got to go, walk, bicycle, practice tai chi, surf, be active. What about my doggie who needs to be walked?

It's been two months and the act of a simple walk around the block is tres difficile. My feet hurt. It could be arthritis, tendinitis or gout. I'll take door door number 4: none of the above.

This is the short version. Talk to my wife, or my psychiatrist, and you will hear the long, incommodious version accompanied by violin, as I've explained it to a stable of doctors.

I forgot to mention the aggravating internal itching I've been dealing with. Ever felt like your skin, that sack of flesh that holds your body together, is your enemy?

Hey, it's all fun and games with a dose of aging. I know it could be worse. Much worse. I could have shingles, or been taken hostage by the MAGA cartel. I already feel forced to watch and hear the former guy over-and-over every time I pick up the news: a horror rerun that would have Edgar Allen Poe on his knees pleading.

I didn't know he was still President.

I can't walk a mile but I can see a mile's worth of yellow-orange hair on every station and newspaper. 

This is the best I can do. Every moment is precious. My family is wonderful. My friends are great. Note to self: don't delete.

Enjoy your Labor Day weekend!