I don’t know how many more entries I’m going to be able to post here. Unfortunately, I’m no where near finished.

Realizing I was running out of time is one of the reasons I jumped on Semi-related Parallel Trauma to cover another very integral part of my recent past, but I didn’t even get to the guts of it. You see, I was infected with MRSA (Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus) around my spine during a somewhat routine operation. The majority of those infected, especially in hospitals, don’t survive. I wasn’t supposed to.

For those who don’t know, MRSA is the third leading cause of death in the US. It kills more than those who die in car accidents, those who die of HIV-related complications and AIDS, and those who die of breast cancer … combined.

Remember how much we heard about AIDS, and the fear was so high, people were afraid they could get it from a toilet seat? Now here’s something that makes AIDS pale in comparison, but why is it not at the top of the news? Could it be that all you need to do is follow the money? MRSA is primarily spread at hospitals. Most hospitals do not release mortality rates due to MRSA. Could you imagine if they did? People would select hospitals with the least deaths due to MRSA. So what would other hospitals need to do to draw back business … uh, I mean patients?

Clean up their acts (and their hospitals) to get their unnecessary MRSA deaths down. And let’s see, what would it require to accomplish that? Hmm. Could it be money? But if they can keep the whole thing hushed, what’s a few lives? Did you know that computer chips are built in rooms much cleaner than the typical hospital operating room? It’s not like they’re struggling for the technology. I knew of a very active mother in her mid-40s, with three daughters, who finally decided to get her tennis knee fixed. Three days after the surgery, she was dead.

I survived, but I’ll always have the MRSA bacteria in me. One time, for sure, I thought it was back to finish me off. They kept me alive, but took away my life. Even the sociopaths in my life used my physical condition when it was a benefit to take advantage of me.

Bottom line, if things don’t change soon, I will lose my home, which would result in me becoming homeless. My quality of life sucks now, but becoming homeless is unacceptable.

Being homeless scares the hell out of me … death doesn’t.

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