It’s been a bit tough lately.
It shouldn’t have been. It shouldn’t be.

But it is, or rather, my perception is that it’s been rough.

To recap a bit — I have surgical hardware – a titanium steel bar – that is fused to my spine. It’s been there for over thirty years.

Actually, its anniversary is May 15. Just a few days away.

The hardware is infected, which infects me.

This infection appears as bubbles under my skin, and eventually they erupt. Or, if they stay buried, there’s a chance that the infection would spread to other parts of my body.

The path forward — if we can call it that — is to remove the hardware.

But, that’s currently — exceedingly risky — because the hardware is, again, fused to my spine. That spine is bone. That bone is spongy due to osteoporosis.

Since this is a delicate proceedure since it’s the f**king spine, there’s only some two doctors in my state who is qualified and only one who is willing to (somehwhat) willing to consider it.

To remove the hardware, the spine needs to be strong – the bone can’t be weak.

After nearly two years of expensive shots, calcium supplements, vitamin D, and all that stuff, the dex scan shows that it’s not better.

Not even a little bit.

To my credit, it’s not worse. But it’s not better.

The next dex scan is in two years.
I’ll be two years older. Two years less able to realistically recover. Even if I have it now, recovery would take multiple years. Projected in the future — even worse.

The chances of the reconstruction failing, wheelchairs, nerve damage, and death all go up.

Okay.
Whatever, I guess.

But the delay increases the chance that the antibiotics — the only thing keeping the infection in check and my current life semi-functional — will fail.

Antibiotics only go so far. When a person develops a resistance to them, that’s it. Long-term use isn’t advised, doubly so when it’s the * same * antibiotic.

Only one antibiotic works for my infection.
When (not if) that resistance develops, I need the operation, or I go septic.

The infection overflows.
I go from being a holding bin for the infection to an overflowing septic tank.

So.. yeah.
The operation probably won’t be an option at that point, as any invasive procedure would only push the infection to other parts of the body.

It is vital for the bones to become strong.

And — so far — I’ve failed.
Two years from now might be too late.

—- And, just to add some salt to the wound, some more bubbles appeared. There were three of them, I think, under my skin. Just rolling around. Doing their thing.

The good doctor took a size 15 scalpel to me. In about half an hour, those bubbles were popped, drained, and joined with a chasm. — An open wound that’s been there for over half a year.

He did this for control.
Should left unchecked, the bubbles could have grown and/or exploded. That would just spread the infection.

The bubbles needed to be popped.

And — owie.
That hurt. A lot of gauze was involved.

A lot of self-defeating despair.
I can’t even classify it as anxiety.

Despair. Frustration. Failure.
Those things were boiling under my mental stretched thin skin.

The popping and pain after is just a physical manifestation that’s in my mind.

I think this is affecting me in other ways.
I have no control and fall back to eating – the one thing I have (somewhat) control over. Although I’m not certain, I think I’m eating less than before. And, at the very least, resent when I have to.

I think I’m pulling away from Jason.

I’m very critical of myself and others.

I don’t give a crap about the students in the class.
Not that I ever did, but even less now.

I hate staying inside, but it’s a Herculean effort to go outside.

My back is so bent that I’m gagging on food. It’s hard to swallow. It’s difficult to walk for any length of time.

I tried to be positive.
I fooled some people around me, but I don’t have the energy to keep it up.

I’m failing.
I’m going backward.
I’m tired.

I can’t produce children, art, or worth.

But I can produce enough infection – a self-contained disease – to become a septic tank.

Um… ?
Now what?