Saturday, April 28, 2012

" An 'A-B-C' Of Home Health Care...Part II of IV "


“ An ‘A-B-C ‘ Of Home Health Care: A List “ “Of Things You NEED To Know (Which Might Just Save Your Life, Or The Life Of Someone You Love), Incomplete As It May Be…Still 



Part II of IV



04/26/12



While this list is not exhaustive, or complete, I hope that it will give you some greater understanding of things, signs, and symptoms that you really NEED to know to hopefully increase the ‘proactivity’ in becoming more in charge of you own health care; the more you know, the better off you will be.



Some items may appear self-explanatory, or, perhaps, too simple; but you would be truly surprised at the number of Americans who have NO clue.  For example, I have a neighbor in her late seventies, who I found was unable to ‘read’ a thermometer, and who always seemed to have problems with her medications.  This—to me, particularly in this century—was shocking.  What she and her eight-one year old husband would always do, was—in becoming ill—wait weeks, sometimes, before their regular physician’s appointment—as they suffered awfully—and then, would give an otherwise clueless doctor their lists of whatever was ‘going wrong’; it was then up to their Provider to grab some diagnoses out of the air, and prescribe medications that neither of my neighbors could pronounce, knew the purpose, and interactions of, and could scarce-remember the mode of treatment.



And if I may say so, even though they are my good neighbors, and former friends of my late mother and father, was that they were routinely behaving most fool heartedly.  And, dangerously. Once, she come to the house, with an upper thigh (near buttocks) cyst, that she had allowed to grow, until it was swollen so enormously, that it actually up-set her balance, in trying to sit down. 



She told me it had a visible core, and was now so painful due, in part, to the infection, and from the monstrous swelling that had stretched the skin.  Further, in trying to get the core to open, she had her husband ‘play’ with it with often dirty hands.  Tears of Christ.



I begged her to have her husband take her to the emergency room at a local hospital to have it lanced, and a biopsy taken, but she delayed.  Only when the swelling had made her upper thigh almost TWICE the size of the other, did she finally concede to go to have it treated.



My dearest, and sweetest friends, while I have NO desire to offend you, or to make you ill, when she at last had the cyst lanced, so much pressure had built up that the emergency room cubicle she was in resembled more a murder scene; the now-lanced cyst having virtually exploded, spraying blood, glia (base body fluid, tinted a light red/yellow), and infectious pus all over the gurney she was in, the sheets, her, as well as the attending physician.



Funny, the ‘core’ did not explode, as one might imagine a volcano erupting, but, slightly further down the area of swelling. Because she had so long neglected its treatment, there ensued weeks and weeks of drainage, more than daily cleaning of the area, a full course of antibiotics, and frequent dressing (bandage) changes, and antibiotic cream applied to the site.  This, her husband did, as she could not possibly reach the affected area; and since it was located so near her rectum, she had to be inordinately careful in cleaning herself to avoid rubbing stool into the wound, to re-infect it.



95% of all that pain, and time required to heal could well have been avoided if she had had it looked at first.  And while I will address cysts, later, this is not a procedure you can readily do at home, and, the sooner it is tended to, the sooner it will heal.  And these are just average citizens, although most lax in their health care; it was her assumption—for example—that in having to use a store’s restroom, that the infection and the cyst had to have been picked up by sitting on the toilet seat!  While, probably a one-in-a zillion shots that she happened to sit on an ‘infected’ toilet seat, sitting, exactly on a cut she had already open, is wild, naïve, and very ill-thought out.



But, my dear friends, I will tell you that since MERSA has, at last escaped the bounds of the hospital out into the real world, one must now be careful when ever in an environment that is steamy, and humid, wherein MERSA can flourish.  Most lately, it has been found in many places, in spas, and work-out gyms, where the patrons usually, during their workouts, break into a sweat.  Customers are now advised, if not forced to wipe the seats of the equipment, when they are done, with a dilute, antiviral solution, such as Clorox, and to make sure the seats are absolutely dry, for risk of passing along the disease, which does not respond to usual antibiotics, and—in fact--probably accounts for more in-hospital deaths than you might imagine.



MERSA, if memory does not fail me, stands for, “medically resistant staphylococcus {infection} that is supremely difficult to treat, and in some hospitals, the patient is, in effect, quarantined, and placed in isolation, where the staff, in paper gowns, masks, shoes, hats, and gloves have to pass through to a ‘clean’ area.



All that is needed for transmission, is that a person have even a small, unknown cut, or open place, to connect with a moist site—such a recently used, and sweated-upon seat of a stationary bicycle.



Because I’ve veered, again, and that this is so important, my recommendation—in general, because they are so routinely filthy—is to avoid public bathrooms, altogether.  If you absolutely MUST use them, as we all do, at times, try to use feet and elbows to open doors; use paper towels to turn sinks on and off, or open handles to the restroom.  And this is more critical for women, who must sit down to void. Wherever possible, take full advantage of those tissue seat covers. Use several.  And since so many public bathrooms do not have them, when you find one that does, garb several, for future use, and keep them folded up in your purse.  And, friends, although this is unpleasant, but necessary, use your fingers, and your hands as little as possible; depending on circumstance, do not use bare hands to touch the seat to either lift it up, or lower it, and NEVER, use your bare hands to flush.  Either use a wad of toilet paper, or—to be frank—engage the flush mechanism with the sole of your shoe. If, in visiting a stall see that the floor is wet, or has little toilet paper, move to the next stall.



Whenever you exit a public bathroom, try to imagine a surgeon, scrubbed-up, and ready, with both arms out and up to avoid contamination.  Always take with you a small bottle of soap less, sanitizer, alcohol, hand rub.  And try to not pick up food with bare fingers; attempt to grasp them (like fried chicken, for example), with a napkin, or—as the British do, use fork and knife; or—again—please use that sanitizing, alcohol rub for your hands. Any more—though—its not a matter so much how clean your hands are, though it is important, but how clean the hands are of those who prepare and serve your food?



And, along these lines, I would try to avoid being served food by the same person who collects the money. Please think about just how ‘dirty’ currency and coins are.  Sheesh.  I think you’ll find that convenient roadside hotdog not so attractive, after all.  The same, actually with midway food at fairs, or circuses, or carnivals.



Although, as my dear, late mother used to say, “You’ve gotta eat a little dirt, before you die ”,  times have changed, and the ‘dirt’ is much more dirty than it was fifty years ago.



And please, my ever dearest friends, no matter how close your friends are, or how loving your family, please never drink from the same glass, share utensils, or plates, even, though I realize this happens all the time; should someone want to share a tastes with you with proffered fingers, please make sure they’ve thoroughly washed their hands, first.  Better a little insulting, perhaps, than sick.  And, never eat anything that’s hit the floor.  Leave it for your grateful dog or cat, instead.  And please always make sure your own hands are clean…down into the nail beds.



Now I fully know that this is far from a perfect world; we are not a perfect Nation, nor are we perfect individuals.  No one can or should spend their lives in a bubble.  And while our sytems are designed to allow for a certain amount of pathogens, you will—nevertheless—much lessen your chances of becoming ill if you:

1)           Wash your hands thoroughly,

2)           Refrain, as is possible, from getting your fingers on or in your nose, lips, or eyes.

3)           To these I would add, never pick inside the  furthest depth that you can reach in your ears.

4)           Cover your noses with a Kleenex when you sneeze…as one, good, sneeze can travel over one hundred feet, and spray in all directions, as I dimly, now, recall, at some three hundred miles per hour, enough, to cover an inside room.

5)           Cover your mouths—too—when you cough; its only polite, after all.  And should that cough be ‘productive’, meaning sputum tinged in either yellow, or green, those are signs of infection, which you should wrap in tissues, and dispose of, as you make an appointment to see your Primary.

6)           Keep as far away as is possible if someone is sneezing; they may well blame it on their “sinuses”, but for your sake, do not believe them for one second.  It was such a nursing agency person, who caused me to develop pneumonia.

7)           When I used to be employed, and was faced—to frequently—by co-workers who dragged into work, deathly ill, even though they had ‘sick time’, I would become rude, and ask them, “Why-n-hell-didn’t [they] just go the hell home!”



Like many of you, my dear friends at MDJunction, have illnesses that are immune-deficient related, we cannot take the chance that even someone who is casually ill, will not cause us to become incredibly, and unnecessarily sick.  Should I hear someone on the telephone (who is scheduled to come out to my home), punctuated their speech with coughing or sneezing…or, even sound ‘vaguely’ ill, I will press them to reschedule until they are feeling better, which, to my standards means having been on antibiotics for at least forty-eight hours.  I will not allow them entrance.



And while I am about it, it certainly wouldn’t hurt if you make a habit of whiping off the telephone handset, or spraying it with Lysol, if someone besides you have used it.



And I have not even begun to speak to you about the washing, preparation, and proper disposal of food.



But, what I do want to mention to you is how very grateful I am for your kindness, caring, and patience.  In offering to you my most sincere thanks, I am thus pledged to be here for you, to ever help protect you, as I view our friendship as something quite rare and sacred. And a candor, and trust that is most worth fighting for; a delight which is worth savoring, and sharing.



I wish for all a pleasant, peaceful Sunday, free from want, depression, sadness, or despair.  A day of quiet happiness with those you genuinely love you.  Oh, so many blessings do I wish for you, my dear, sweet friends, and ever-loyal readers.



May your day be filled with honest laughter and enjoyment; with every moment filled with gladness.  And then, tonight, I wish you hours of soft, and restorative sleep, with only good dreams; watched-over, and protected by sweet angels by your side.



End of Part II of IV; Part III to follow.



And always know I love you,



‘Zahc’/Charles

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