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pecunium17 May
Sadly the foot decided to give me grief, with a small amount of extra suffering provided by me and the weather.
The evening I got back from the hospital I noticed a bit of swelling in my right foot, the one that really bothered me). Not being familiar with plantar faschitis (the diagnosis I was given) I had no way to know if this was a normal progression. After five days of treating it, it was worse, so I went back to the medics.
The inflammation is not normal to the problem I was diagnosed with (since the inflammation started after the diagnosis we don't know if it was right or wrong). To add insult to injury I was a tad dehydrated (Maia complains I don't drink enough. The medics I saw for some diarrhea a few weeks ago were very
pleased with my hydration. For my part, I felt fine, didn't notice any symptoms, had I not been in the hospital, I don't think I ever would've known).
So, while poking and prodding my foot, I was hooked up to an IV. Turns out I had a slight fever as well (101, local temps were about 102, I tend to about 98.4).
Five and a half hours, and six bags later (they wanted a urine sample before they stopped adding fluids. I don't do well with an audience, so I got two bags of neutral saline, and four of lactated ringers. The last two were after the sample, to bring the fever down. It dropped to 100.8), I was released.
The final diagnosis... pseudo gout. Which means no one knows. I have gout-like symptoms without having gout (thank the Maker for large favors).
Treatment: 48 hours of quarters (which means I get to wear shorts and at-shirt), while keeping my foot above my heart, and then 72 hours of minimal standing and walking, preferably with sitting with my foot above my heart.
I also have different drugs, in part because the only changes in my diet were the addition of Mefloquine to my routine (it is prophylactic for malaria) and the Flexoril for my back (which I strained two days before we left Al
Sahra). So I am once again taking a daily pill for malaria.
Even if I were one of those who had an off-base sector to patrol, I wouldn't be going anywhere for awhile.
But we've started doing what we are here to do (monitor the local population's sentiments, and hope someone will volunteer information on things we are 1:interested in or 2: might get U.S. troops hurt.
And time brings familiarity. Sitting on the southeast side of the tent this afternoon, watching the virgin rain and enjoying a breeze, I was content. It probably helps that the surroundings are homelike, in general appearance. The
local vegetation looks enough like mustard at a distance, the weather is similar to August, and I am with people I know from home, so I am, if not happy, comfortable.
Sadly the foot decided to give me grief, with a small amount of extra suffering provided by me and the weather.
The evening I got back from the hospital I noticed a bit of swelling in my right foot, the one that really bothered me). Not being familiar with plantar faschitis (the diagnosis I was given) I had no way to know if this was a normal progression. After five days of treating it, it was worse, so I went back to the medics.
The inflammation is not normal to the problem I was diagnosed with (since the inflammation started after the diagnosis we don't know if it was right or wrong). To add insult to injury I was a tad dehydrated (Maia complains I don't drink enough. The medics I saw for some diarrhea a few weeks ago were very
pleased with my hydration. For my part, I felt fine, didn't notice any symptoms, had I not been in the hospital, I don't think I ever would've known).
So, while poking and prodding my foot, I was hooked up to an IV. Turns out I had a slight fever as well (101, local temps were about 102, I tend to about 98.4).
Five and a half hours, and six bags later (they wanted a urine sample before they stopped adding fluids. I don't do well with an audience, so I got two bags of neutral saline, and four of lactated ringers. The last two were after the sample, to bring the fever down. It dropped to 100.8), I was released.
The final diagnosis... pseudo gout. Which means no one knows. I have gout-like symptoms without having gout (thank the Maker for large favors).
Treatment: 48 hours of quarters (which means I get to wear shorts and at-shirt), while keeping my foot above my heart, and then 72 hours of minimal standing and walking, preferably with sitting with my foot above my heart.
I also have different drugs, in part because the only changes in my diet were the addition of Mefloquine to my routine (it is prophylactic for malaria) and the Flexoril for my back (which I strained two days before we left Al
Sahra). So I am once again taking a daily pill for malaria.
Even if I were one of those who had an off-base sector to patrol, I wouldn't be going anywhere for awhile.
But we've started doing what we are here to do (monitor the local population's sentiments, and hope someone will volunteer information on things we are 1:interested in or 2: might get U.S. troops hurt.
And time brings familiarity. Sitting on the southeast side of the tent this afternoon, watching the virgin rain and enjoying a breeze, I was content. It probably helps that the surroundings are homelike, in general appearance. The
local vegetation looks enough like mustard at a distance, the weather is similar to August, and I am with people I know from home, so I am, if not happy, comfortable.
