Today marks the one year anniversary of my left big toe amputation. I'm feeling kind of sad and anxious as I remember that day.
I had been transferred to a larger hospital when that fateful decision was made.
Prior to that, my family doctor wasn't really having any luck getting me stabilized with either my blood sugar or the staph infection in my toe. I was sort of being rotated between the doctors in her group practice. I had the misfortune of being admitted locally on the weekend.
I must admit, this was my first encounter with the local doctors because I thought I was healthy. I knew diabetes ran in my family and that I was at risk, but I was taking measures to take care of myself. That included walking, which got me the blister and then the staph infection.
They had me on IV antibiotics. An x-ray showed my toe to be structurally ok. Then there was a bone scan and an MRI. They were talking about 6 weeks of outpatient IV antibiotics. However, they started rumbling about that super bug MRSA, which is a staph infection that is really hard to treat.
I was already scared. Now I was terrified.
My doctor had taken a couple days off and when she returned she transferred me to the bigger hospital where I would see an endocrinologist, infection specialist, and wound surgeon.
My first day there they asked me why I was there. I don't know if that was to see if I had my wits about me or if they thought I didn't need to be there. I know that it made me feel very small. My answer was that my doctor sent me there for better care.
The infection specialist came to see me every day. I was under a quarantine just for precautions. He did his tests on the infection and assured me that even though the particular strain of staph I had was fast growing, it was not MRSA. At least that was one good thing.
The endocrinologist quickly got my blood sugar under control. I owe her a great debt of gratitude for getting me on the right track. I also think that I was being given better nutritionally sound diabetic meals at this hospital. (I'll write more about that some other time.)
My wound surgeon had a quirky bedside manner, but the nurses raved about his abilities. I came to trust him wholeheartedly. I wouldn't hesitate to go back to him if there ever was a need for any type of wound.
It was explained to me that the staph infection was eating at the tip of the bone in my big left toe. The recommendation was that the toe should be amputated. They could do it that day, but I just couldn't. I asked them to let me sleep on it. I questioned if it was the right thing to do, but in my heart I really knew I had no choice.
I wanted the doctors to tell me I had no choice, but they said the choice was mine. They could continue the aggressive IV antibiotics, but there was no guarantee it would stop the staph infection from spreading into my foot. I did ask the wound surgeon what he would do if it was him. He said if I was his sister, he would say to take the toe off. It might be the matter of losing a toe or later on a foot.
So I relented. I decided that I could hide a missing toe on my foot, but I couldn't hide a missing foot. I wouldn't take the gamble. I was wheeled to surgery one year ago today and had my toe amputated.
That's how my life without my left big toe began one year ago today. It may be silly, but it feels like it died before the rest of me.
I will write about my healing in a future post.
Thanks for reading.
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