Making the C Diff-erence

I hate that my blog has recently sounded like a journal for my misadventures in health, but as sung by OK Go, here it goes again.  My tooth abscess went away due to my noble white blood cells (bless those who fell) and an antibiotic called clindamycin.  All was well until clindamycin, that turncoat bitch, switched teams and gave me something called clostridium difficile (known by her friends as c. diff).

I went to a walk-in clinic on Tuesday because I was sick to my stomach and having aches and chills.  Apparently, I had a fever of 101 and a resting pulse rate of 140.  The doctor said he was afraid the infection had spread from the abscess to my blood, and he sent me to the ER.

I had never been to the ER, so I was scared, but the nurses and doctors there were great.  They discovered that the real culprit was c. diff, hooked me up to some IVs to hydrate me and get my pulse down, and started me on a new antibiotic.

What?  Needles scare me.

Before I left the hospital, the doctor said, "now the diarrhea might get a lot worse before it gets better, but just keep taking the medicine."

And would you know that doctor was right?

For anyone who has had a severe stomach illness as an adult, you can probably relate.  It humbles you; takes you back to babyhood.  My life over the next few days felt as simple as shampoo directions:  poop, sleep, repeat.  Did I have an accident in my sleep?  Maybe.  Maybe I had two.  Who really keeps track of these things anyway?

Today I was able to eat non-gelatinous food with no repercussions, which means I am on the mend and back on track with my blog.  Consider this post my official IOU for a forthcoming non-health related blog update.

And here is a cute picture to help you forget everything you just read:

Hypno-Pug