My microbial adventures began in late May, 2012. That's when a minor cut on my right foot got infected. The neighborhood urgent care clinic cleaned and dressed the cut, and prescribed antibiotics. Three follow-up visits later, they referred me to the emergency room at nearby Chandler Regional Hospital. That's where I was diagnosed with a virulent multi-strain bacterial infection. For the first week or so, anyone who took the risk of entering my room had to don a disposable mask and gown. Ten days and two surgeries later, I was sent home to recover with a PICC in my arm.
After a month of home nursing care, round the clock intravenous antibiotic drips and follow-up exams, it was determined that the infection had returned within just a couple weeks after stopping the antibiotics. X-Rays and MRIs revealed that the infection had spread to the heel bone - or was hiding dormant there all along. I was readmitted for yet another surgery. This time, the surgeon removed the bottom rear quarter of my heel bone - a calcaneal resection, it's called - to cut out the bone infection (osteomyelitis). After another PICC and another month of round the clock antibiotic infusions and home nursing care, my blood tests came up clear: the infection was gone by October 2012.
I thought I was done at that point, but there was still a gaping wound in my foot from the surgeries. To help close it up, I was sent to Valley Hyperbarics Center for treatment in a Hyperbaric Oxygen (HBO) chamber; a metal-ended plexiglass cylinder just big enough to hold a person for a couple hours in a pressurized 100% oxygen atmosphere. Four weeks and 17 sessions later, I was released from treatment and cleared to resume normal activities - as normal as it gets with a partial heel bone and a still-mending hole in the heel. Normal in this case meant no walking, under doctor's orders to keep the heel in non-weight bearing (NWB) mode. Mostly I used what's called a RollerAid, something akin to a non-motorized scooter. But there was a lot of wheel chairing, too. And there was still a lot of enforced bed rest: one hour every 2-3 hours was to be spent lying down with the right foot elevated above the heart.
At last, in December 2012 I was cleared by my surgeon to walk on my own two feet - but sparingly, and only in special custom shoes, with an insert molded to fit my new foot. I was also released to drive again - for the first time in six months. Following doctor's orders, I walked only short distances at first, but over a couple months I was able to resume my normal daily walking and driving routines. We do still have a wheel chair, which the doctor recommends for longer trips, but I haven't used it in months now. (Granddaughter Maddie misses riding with Grandpa in the wheel chair!)
Through all this, I credit a lot of my recovery to my wife Maria. She administered the IV drips four times a day, changed the wound dressing daily, and drove me to more medical appointments than I can count. Given that death and amputation were among the possible outcomes, I figure I owe life and limb as much to Maria as to the doctors and nurses. The prayers and good wishes of family, friends and clients surely tilted the scales in my favor as well - thank you, thank you!
It has been for me a humbling experience to realize how much we take good health for granted. In my recovery, I've had to relearn things I always took for granted, like walking first and foremost. When you haven't walked for five months, there's a lot of muscle atrophy; also some balance issues walking with one foot that has a smaller heel than the other. But I'm getting around better every day. And I'm back into my daily cardio and weight workout regimen - with lighter weights than before all this happened, until such time as I regain my strength. But already, over a period of months, I have been able to double the weights on most of my exercises, and my bike ride is back up to the daily 45-minute standard I've maintained for the last ten years.
I've had some setbacks along the way. Well, only one, really. It happened when I took a trip across the country to be with my family at my father's deathbed in March, 2013 - a really tough month. Although I was diligent about using the wheel chair for longer trips - through airports and long hospital corridors - I ended up spending too many hours standing and walking. When you do this on a 3/4 size heel, the pounds per square inch (PSI) load is increased to the point that the heel bone starts cutting into the flesh of the foot from the inside. As a result of that wear and tear, a new wound opened up on the heel. But it too has gradually healed up again, and my doctor visits are now back down to a bimonthly schedule for debridement, until such time as he decides that's no longer needed.
With all I've been through, I still feel pretty lucky. My case began around the same time that Aimee Copeland in Georgia was battling a far more serious infection (a flesh-eating bacteria). She ended up needing several amputations to save her life. It's humbling to realize how vulnerable we are to these very smallest of creatures, microbes we never even think about until such time as they find our Achilles heel. Equally humbling to me is the knowledge that only 10% of the cells in the human body are actually human cells. The rest are microbes, including the ones in the gut that digest our food for us. Truly, we are symbionts, a community of organisms much like a coral reef. We think we're masters in our own house, but in reality we're a minority in our own skin!