So maybe I was wrong about that whole "Lucky" Thing

This picture was taken less than 24 hours after my last post.  Seriously.

After my last tap on the "Publish" button - which ended with a sappy comment about lucky breaks and cool rescue stories - I left work and commenced my usual evening routine:  Rush home, feed the dogs, exchange some love and hugs with them, grab a protein bar, and head to the gym to meet my workout partner.

On the treadmill, I noticed some swelling in my right thumb (the one with the tiny red dot a la hawk).  Lifting weights, I noticed some more. By the time we got into the hot tub (this is an essential part of my week), my right thumb was three times the size of the left one.  And it was throbbing.  So I decided it would be a good idea to go to the doctor in the morning.  However, when I got home from the gym, I had a tiny 2" long red stripe, as wide as a piece of yarn, that went from the first knuckle of my thumb to my wrist.  So, knowing this means bad juju, at 10:30 pm I went to the emergency room.  And I was right.  Within hours of checking in, the stripe was an inch wide and went from my thumb (or bratwurst, whatever) all the way to my armpit.  I was being pumped full of intravenous antibiotics and I had a fever of 103.5. It was not a good night.

I was diagnosed with invasive cellulitis, most likely caused by a Strep infection. These infections are very common in puncture wounds on the hands and feet and are most often caused by pricks from rusty nails and garden-variety rose-thorns and other brambles.  Had I not headed to the ER when I did, the infection could have spread to my heart and lungs, and I easily could have expired.  As in, to become compost.  Whoa.

After sitting on that knowledge for three days while inundated with IV antibiotics and prodded by about 37 doctors (most of whom came to see me - and giggle at me - because of my ridiculous story), my fever had broken and my thumb had returned to about twice its normal size. Finally, (I think because I whined so much about being stir-crazy and missing my friends' Super Bowl party) I was prescribed two weeks' worth of oral antibiotics and sent on my way.

I should add that I was lucky enough to have a slew of friends and family come and keep me company (and give me books and movies and crosswords and stuffed animals and candy and balloons) during my tenure in the hospital, so it wasn't actually all that miserable... my workout partner even stayed with me overnight when my fever was at its worst!  With all that attention, I felt very special, and very loved.

Nevertheless... the moral of the story was given to me by the doctor who first saw me in the ER:  "Never forget that no good deed goes unpunished."

Indeed.