“
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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