Sorry, long post to follow. I may or may not include a TLDR: at the bottom.
To set the stage for this double-whammy of stoopid, let's rewind the clock back to about 5:20 am on Monday October 18th, or 18 October for our friends on the other side of the pond.
This was the day we were leaving Michigan for Florida, major move, lots to do. The truck was already headed down to Florida with 99% of our stuff, our kids and 2 cats were already there, staying with grandparents until our arrival on the 19th. We just had a minivan FULL of stuff and our dog. A few days earlier I picked up a cargo carrier that is installed in the trailer hitch for the overflow. We were scheduled to hit the road at 6 am on the 18th. I was getting stuff ready at about 5:20 when BAM! I walked into the cargo carrier. Now, I didn't kick it with my shin. That would have been 1000 times better. No, I planted my foot very close to it and, not knowing it was there I kept walking. Basically I levered my shin into it. My momentum kept my body moving forward, levering my shin into the metal. I scraped my shin along the metal for about 5" as I fell over it.
Good lord the pain!
Mrs. Boost said I should get it looked at. It didn't look that bad, just hurt like crazy. I figured if I went to the ER I'd be there for HOURS and pay HUNDREDS for them to spray anti-biotic spray on it, put a bandage on it and send me on my way. Urgent care isn't even open for hours and it'd be the same story. I figured I'm going to spend the next two days in the van. Almost no walking, it'll be clean, dry, and stationary for two days. I'll let nature take its course. Don't think for a second that I didn't do anything to treat it. No, we were on our way to Home Depot (they open at 6) to get some ratchet straps. While there I raided their first aid kit for some antibiotic spray. There. Done and dusted.
There's the back story, let's move on.....
Fast forward to the day before thanksgiving, a little over a month since the move. I go to my doc because I couldn't breath very well. This is a follow-up visit from the week before, same complaint. This time I see a different doc. She asks questions, listens to my chest and such and said that I have congestive heart failure. Ok, color me freaked out. Then she says "I made an appointment with a cardiologist for next week, but this weekend (thanksgiving weekend) if you feel worse, don't wait for Wednesday. Take yourself to the ER". Then, seconds later she says "in fact, maybe you don't wait to feel worse. Maybe just take yourself to the ER this weekend." Ok, she just ratcheted it up a notch. THEN, a few seconds later she says "on second thought, maybe I'll call the EMS and have them take you from here. If you walk in you'll be in triage for hours. If you roll in with the EMS you'll go right to the doc. And you might not have those hours."
Good lord lady! Am I going to die today?!?! Freak out is full throttle now.
So she calls the EMS and from the ambulance I text my wife "Don't be alarmed, but I'm going to the hospital via an ambulance. The van is at this address....."
Mr. Boost arrives at the hospital and is a bit freaked out. I'm making jokes to calm her down, waiting for my heart to explode or whatever it's going to do. Now, remember that I was sent to the ER via ambulance with congestive heart failure when you read the next sentence. Every doctor and every nurse that came into that ER room to see me said "wow, what'd you do to your leg?!" It was pretty nasty, I'll admit that. But it was 1/2 the size of the original injury. No fever, no puss or anything. Nothing but a little redness immediately around the wound. From all I could see, it was healing nicely.
The ER doc comes in a second time and tells my wife and I that he doesn't think it's CHF, but a possible pulmonary embolism from the infection in my leg. So I go from thinking I'm going to be dead in months to dead in a few minutes! That's how two of my closest friends died, Happy Andy being one of them.
So they admit me to the hospital because the infection requires IV antibiotics and continue testing and ruling things out.
The result? Well, the breathing issue was severe asthma (self-inflicted, more on that in a bit), so no big deal. It was the leg, the thing I thought was no big deal kept me in the hospital for a week. Now that I'm out I have to go to a wound doctor once a week where he'll remove the dressing, (skip to the next paragraph if you're squeemish) where he will (I warned you) scrape the wound until it's bleeding, spray some sort of acid on it, apply an enzyme that will eat the dead flesh away, and apply bovine collagen to promote new skin growth. Then bandage it and collect $60 on my way out.
I have to do that every week for 12 weeks. It hurts every time!
Back to the breathing issue and how I believe it's self inflicted. When we moved into the house we noticed a musty smell in the lanai. I looked at the window A/C unit and inside noticed black specs. Mold and/or mildew. I removed the unit, took it apart and cleaned it with water and bleach. I was careful. I used a rag to clean it, not a bristled brush. I also did it outside. Do you think I wore a mask? No. Not me. I assume I breathed in some mold and that's what caused the asthma attack.
All my friends and some of their friends have been giving me so much crap over this. But I suppose I deserve it. I'm breathing much better, the leg is healing, but it hurts now because it never goes more than 6 days before, well, my weekly treatment. By spring I'll be able to go swimming in the ocean where I'll promptly get bitten by a shark or something.
Edit: I totally forgot to mention. The scrape/scallop went all the way to the bone. Hence the long recovery time. There simply isn't any flesh to stitch together. The doc was considered a skin graft but decided to go this route.
