Outbreak

Instead of malaria, as reported in a previous entry, it turns out Jim contracted a different, nasty infectious disease. Think turn of the century, tenement slums, and an Irish house maid named Mary... Yep, the few the proud, Jim is now one of the 400 or so Typhoid cases reported annually to the CDC. After much speculation and a copious amount of "lab samples" the official diagnosis that put a close to the three plus weeks of malaise, fever, chills and night sweats is Paratyphoid, caused by Salmonella para typhi bacteria. No pretty way to say it, someone in India didn't wash up before prepping dinner. Although it sounds wretched this was the best diagnosis from the options Jim's doctor presented--everything from a cardiac valve infection to cancer. Before the bug was even identified he was hospitalized, placed on broad spectrum IV antibiotics, given a CT (with a liter of tasty banana flavored oral contrast), an echo cardiogram, and multiple chest x-rays. Last Tuesday, after a week on isolation in his little basement room at Mercy Hospital, Folsom, he came home, 7lbs lighter, detesting bananas, and sporting a home IV catheter coiled around his right upper arm. He's feeling great, symptom free so by next week this should all be a distant blog memory as I get back to work (I had to prove I was OK for the hospital), Fiona fusses over a mouthful of teeth, and Jim finishes up antibiotics before his next dreaded work trip.