Are you there god? It's me MRSA.

Margaret had to deal with buying her first bra, having her first period, coping with belted sanitary napkins (times have changed for the better, in so many ways), developing breasts and being the child of an interfaith marriage.

And I have MRSA. On my face.

That pretty much sums it up.

Thanks, good night, god bless and drive home safely folks.
Nov 11 '09

Monday morning you sure look fine (not)

615am Monday - alarm bell rings and it’s time to face the day ahead, week ahead, year ahead, lifetime etc….

The morning routine begins as scheduled, except when I looked in the mirror I faced not with my usual self but instead my gaze fell upon an unfamiliar countenance that could be of blood relation to John Merrick, uncharitably known in his time as the Elephant Man.

Aghast, I saw the right side of my face swollen and distended. My upper lip drew downward like someone who’d suffered a stroke or had Bell’s palsy in combination with the kind of bad plastic surgery/collagen injections we all have seen in the aging-not-so-gracefully faces of Meg Ryan, Lisa Rinna and.,

Oh, and there was not unsubstantial pain too. It was the pain of infection and not a normal infection, something far worse than my past experience of what was par for the course of cuts and scrapes.

I didn’t know what had gone wrong, but it was clear that something had.  I emailed in sick and called my doctor’s office as soon as it was open. Mercifully, the fit me in for 945am. After a 45 minute wait in reception reading of the plight of the Virungan gorillas, I was escorted in to an exam room. A few minutes later, my doctor told me he couldn’t be absolutely certain until he performed tests but was quite convinced that I was victim to an antiboitic-resistant staph infection, MRSA.