Check Those Feet
The mantra for all diabetics is "Check those feet, everyday,
every way." Healthcare professionals preach the message;
articles scream it over and over. However, many diabetics don't
and won't. My husband was one of those who didn't believe he
should and "foo, fooed" my suggestions that I should check his
feet.
For several weeks, R__ had been having problems thinking, and he
had said things that either didn't make sense or were completely
out of line. The problems became worse, closer together, and
lasting for longer periods of time. The middle of September, he
zoned out or fell asleep in the middle of a word or action. He
wouldn't listen to reason, no matter who tried to talk him into
seeking help. He didn't understand the need.
Saturday, September 17, we were to go to our son's home to
celebrate his and one of his son's birthdays, which had been
during the week. R__ lay on the sofa, with his socks and shoes
off, laying where I saw the bottom of his feet. The bottom of
one was white with black spots.
"What's wrong with your foot?" I nearly gasped, because it
looked sickening.
"Nothing, just swollen. I took another water pill. The swelling
will go down."
"R__, this has nothing to do with edema. Look at the bottom of
your left foot." I wanted to shake him to get him to act.
He sat up and looked at the bottom of his foot. "Guess something
is wrong. I'll go to the doctor Monday."
"You need to go to the ER - now!"
"I said I'd go to the doctor Monday, so leave me alone." He lay
back down.
I took a deep breath before suggesting he at least soak his
foot. When he agreed, I filled the footbath with warm water and
mild soap before carrying it to him. He soaked both feet for
fifteen to twenty minutes. When he patted the bottom of his left
foot, the layer of white skin came loose. A fine wire also came
out. The foot still looked bad, oozing puss and a little blood.
"Let me take you to the emergency room," I begged, but he
refused, angrily and forcefully.
We went to our son's, and our daughter-in-law noted how oddly he
acted. She told me that he had even said something derogatory
about our son in front of one of our grandsons a couple of weeks
before - behavior completely out of character for a man so proud
of his son and caring of his grandsons. I was even more
concerned by the time we returned home, but he refused to take
action.
I took my cell phone into the bathroom and called our other son,
the one R__ would often listen to when he wouldn't anyone else.
I got his voice mail, but I explained the situation, asking him
to call his dad. A few minutes later, the land phone rang. It
was B__, wanting to talk with his dad. I could only hear my
husband's side of the conversation, including his great
dissatisfaction with me, but B__ asked his dad to describe the
foot to him.
After placing the phone on the sofa beside him, R__ removed his
shoe and sock, which was filled with blood and puss, a large
amount of both. He picked the receiver up. "Guess I'll be going
to the hospital," he told our son.
Within minutes of arriving, cultures had been taken, tests run.
A nurse came in the room with four huge hypos of antibiotics. He
was admitted to the hospital, and antibiotics dripped into his
arm from IVs. A staph infection had so invaded his system that
even his mind was affected. He was septic, and the doctors could
hardly believe he still lived.
A surgeon removed a large chunk of the bottom of his foot,
leaving tendons revealed. We were told that he probably would
still lose his foot, probably part of his leg. The doctor then
transferred him to a speciality hospital, where attempts to save
his foot, and his life, continued.
To make a two month-long story shorter, he spent two months
hospitalized one place or the other. Special therapists worked
with his foot, including placing a wound vac on it. When he
finally was dismissed to return home in late November, home
health care nurses came three times a week to dress the wound
and check the vac.
Finally, after three and a half months, his foot is almost
completely healed, only a small spot still remaining if one
searches for it. Home health care dismissed him, and he still
has his foot. God was good to him and to us.
My advice to all diabetics: Please check your feet. You may not
be as fortunate as R__, and the results can be devastating.
Needless to say, he checks his feet every day now.