It all started with a small mosquito bite on the top of my right foot. It was about two weeks old, and not really itchy any more, but there was still a bump there. I was being eaten alive by other insects one night, and when I was scratching, I accidently scratched open that old bite, and drew some blood. The next morning my foot was sore on top, and it hurt a little bit when the top of my foot pressed against my shoe, and by the end of the day, my whole foot was tender to the touch and quite swollen.
Over the next couple of days, I was concerned because where I was staying, I had to walk everywhere, and it was quite painful to walk on. I kept it wrapped with a tensor bandage and tried to keep it elevated to keep the swelling down, but it wasn’t helping very much. I had a course of antibiotics from my doctor at home for use if something like this happened, so I started to take them, and decided I would head to the local doctor the next day.
I woke up early to get to Dr. John’s office by 8:00 to get in line. The stories of the massive long waits at his office didn’t thrill me, so when the office finally opened at 10:30 (it’s supposed to open at 10) I signed my name on the patient list, and since there were already about 8 people ahead of me, I figured I could safely leave, and come back at about 2:00, and wait to be seen then. This might sound silly to those of you who don’t know about Dr. John, but I assure you, it is routine for people to wait eight to ten hours sitting in sweltering heat on his balcony, just to see him. There are no such things as appointments. You just have to wait. Anyways, when I went back at 2:00, he was gone! He must have had a speed record day, so he got out of there before I returned. I guess I would have to wait until after the weekend to see him.
When I showed up on Monday, I was pleased to see no one waiting in line! The luck was too good to be true, and I soon learned that Dr. John had come down with Dengue Fever, and wouldn’t be seeing any patients for the next two days. If I wanted any medical attention, I would have to go to La Ceiba. At least that was the story, although it’s more likely that he was still really hung over and/or still stoned from Sun Jam, a giant party on a deserted island in the Carribean.
The antibiotics I was taking were having absolutly no effect, and the swelling at the site of the bite had burst open with LOTS of puss and blood. There were several guys at the dive center who thought they could handle anything, but they were totally grossed out when I squeezed it and pure nastiness erupted out like a volcano. Ha ha!
The doctor in La Ceiba prescribed another course of the same antibiotic, and was sure that time would be the trick, and that the antibiotic would take effect and kill the infection. It didn’t.
Another 5 days of painfully trying to get around, and no diving, I thought it was time for another trip to the big city. Since the last ferry had left for the day, I would try to catch the ferry out in the morning. People were concerened about me, and when I was sitting outside cleaning my foot, the local mushroom dealer came by, and said he had a great home remedy for me that was guaranteed to work, and the remedy wasn’t mushrooms, so I thought I would give it a try. He went and tracked down a big aloe vera plant some old womans flower bed and chopped me off a leaf. He brought it back to me and told me to crush up an antibiotic pill into powder, sprinkle it on the infected area, and then lay a slice of aloe vera over it and wrap it for the night.
Although this remedy did actually ease the throbbing in my foot for a while, I was up at 3:00 in the morning washing my foot down because the pain had returned in full force. Of course, this is when the local crack dealer happened to be walking by (seriously!), and he told me that I didn’t need a doctor, I just needed him to take care of my foot for a couple of days. Yeah, right. He said “don’t you trust me?” and “I would never do anything to hurt your foot.” So reassuring. Ha ha! When I refused his assistance, he thought telling me stories of how his grandma took care of him when he was a kid. When he cut himself, and there was blood pouring out everywhere, she would douse the wound in Kerosene to stop the bleeding. And when he had an infection, she would spray it down with Lysol because it was made for killing germs. Nice. It is no mystery to me now why he is who he is today! Ha ha!
Well, to bring an end to this long story, I did make it to La Ceiba the next day, and spent 5 days and four nights in the hospital hooked up to IV antibiotics and watching the endless chain of mini-ants strolling back and forth on the ledge under the window. They were on a mission moving stuff!. At least my room had air conditioning, because it was sweltering hot outside.
I’m walking again, and killing time before catching the afternoon ferry back to Utila. I should be in the ocean diving again by Sunday or Monday, just in time for Hurricane Dean to bear down on us and kill the great visibility in the water.
Here are some photos for your viewing pleasure…
