Country Life

There are tons and tons of differences in living in the country and being raised in the city. All kinds of traumatic situations can occur.

Electricity is essential, but with a hard wind, thunder, lightening, rain, vibration from farm equipment traffic, the explosion of a gas truck and a Canadian National train carrying 30 plus cars full of liquid propane, and who knows what else...oh yes, let's not forget Katrina. You can lose electricity. Yep, lost electricity from Katrina although we are more than 200 miles inland. But that's another tale.

You can lose phone service. Just because the phone line runs under the bridge on the highway, a half-mile up, the vibration makes it screwy, and you lose phone service.

There are snakes, friendly snakes that keep bad snakes away. Critters of the night, like coyotes, ducks, geese, deer; you name it, we have the critters.

But there are other interesting events that can happen without warning.

Last October, I was cleaning the front porch, when I stepped off and onto a nail, a rusty nail. I immediately cleaned the wound with bleach and doctored it with Betadine, following up with triple antibiotic cream and bandaging. Thinking nothing more of it, other than a rigorous cleaning before going to bed, and then upon rising, it felt ok.

I knew I had to do the bi-monthly trip for groceries and had no problem throughout my endeavor.

Arriving home, I was unloading the car and walking up to the porch when I stepped on a Magnolia seed pod, which hurt and I do mean HURT, as it was in the same place as the nail wound.

By Sunday night, the foot had swollen and I knew I had to see the doctor the next day. When I did, he immediately sent me to the hospital, as I would need to see a surgeon to relieve the pressure.

Oh fun, fun, joy, joy.

Not that I don't like being pampered, but this was not my idea of fun, especially since one day following the surgery, they released me to go home to wound care.

I couldn't walk and when the PT was showing me how to use crutches (which I've never had to do), gave me a wedgie when I lost my balance, nearly falling on the floor.

That's a unique experience to say the least. My butt still cringes at the mere thought of it now.

So, after being invited to stay at a friend's home, which was close to the hospital's wound care center, she said they had let me out too soon, especially since I was still unable to walk.

When I went to wound care, the doctor immediately put me into the hospital after examining the foot. I underwent multiple tests, including an MRI.

Final diagnosis...MRSA.

I endured rounds and rounds of drip antibiotics and complete bed rest, legs elevated. For more than three months, I kept my legs up and learned how to debris the foot.

Nearly a year out, I am still convalescing...but such is life in the country!