Tag Archives: antibiotics

Cold sore

Cold sore: (n) an inflamed blister near the mouth, caused by infection with the herpes simplex virus.

Treating a cold sore is an example of a microcosm of all human self-improvement.

  1. First, you have to be willing to admit you have one.

No–it’s not dry crusty “corner-mouth.”

You didn’t burn yourself on jalapeno juice.

And it’s not because you haven’t had the chance for a big yawn.

There is actually something growing there, threatening to take over all lip service.

  1. It doesn’t get better because you pick at it.

Yes, we’re human beings so we pick at our problems instead of addressing them and trying to heal them. Picking off the top layer of dead skin only leaves the underlying layer of bright red, infected skin.

And as unbelievable as it may sound, some people find it a little gross to see you pick at your cold sore.

  1. The cold sore has an agenda–so you’d better get one as well.


Yes, most cold sores sign a lease. They feel they have an absolute right to the location for the entire time they desire to stay.

To evict them demands that you use extreme measures.

Some folks try the septic pencil. (Not only does this hurt like hell, sting and often make the sores bleed, but it has have never been proven to be effective.)

  1. Antibiotics do not kill viruses.

Yes, a cold sore is a virus. We’re just going to leave out the whole discussion of the word “herpes.”

As a virus it cannot be treated with antibiotics, though people often rush to the doctor to get a scrip of the anti-bios.

  1. It’s almost impossible to cover a cold sore with make-up.

Actually, you might want to say the cold sores sport make-up. They accentuate that you have a well-made-up mountain at the corner of your mouth.

  1. The truth is, if you increase your fluids, get a little more rest, don’t pick at it, and try not to draw too much attention, it normally will depart within a week to ten days.

Having a cold sore is not a pleasant experience (and every once in a while, one will occupy both corners of your mouth, as if going North and South to fight in the Civil War.)

Be patient, child of God. You are not alone.

The only guarantee for making yourself socially unacceptable is to lose your cool and run through your office complex, screaming and begging for somebody to cut the little boogers off your face.

This is extreme.

There is no cold sore that has not found a human face it does not like.

Coming soon to a crevice near you…

 

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Cold sore

Cold sore: (n) an inflamed blister near the mouth, caused by infection with the herpes simplex virus.

Treating a cold sore is an example of a microcosm of all human self-improvement.

  1. First, you have to be willing to admit you have one.

No–it’s not dry crusty “corner-mouth.”

You didn’t burn yourself on jalapeno juice.

And it’s not because you haven’t had the chance for a big yawn.

There is actually something growing there, threatening to take over all lip service.

  1. It doesn’t get better because you pick at it.

Yes, we’re human beings so we pick at our problems instead of addressing them and trying to heal them. Picking off the top layer of dead skin only leaves the underlying layer of bright red, infected skin.

And as unbelievable as it may sound, some people find it a little gross to see you pick at your cold sore.

  1. The cold sore has an agenda–so you’d better get one as well.

Yes, most cold sores sign a lease. They feel they have an absolute right to the location for the entire time they desire to stay.

To evict them demands that you use extreme measures.

Some folks try the septic pencil. (Not only does this hurt like hell, sting and often make the sores bleed, but it has have never been proven to be effective.)

  1. Antibiotics do not kill viruses.

Yes, a cold sore is a virus. We’re just going to leave out the whole discussion of the word “herpes.”

As a virus it cannot be treated with antibiotics, though people often rush to the doctor to get a scrip of the anti-bios.

  1. It’s almost impossible to cover a cold sore with make-up.

Actually, you might want to say the cold sores sport make-up. They accentuate that you have a well-made-up mountain at the corner of your mouth.

  1. The truth is, if you increase your fluids, get a little more rest, don’t pick at it, and try not to draw too much attention, it normally will depart within a week to ten days.

Having a cold sore is not a pleasant experience (and every once in a while, one will occupy both corners of your mouth, as if going North and South to fight in the Civil War.)

Be patient, child of God. You are not alone.

The only guarantee for making yourself socially unacceptable is to lose your cool and run through your office complex, screaming and begging for somebody to cut the little boogers off your face.

This is extreme.

There is no cold sore that has not found a human face it does not like.

Coming soon to a crevice near you…

 

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Subscribe to Jonathan’s New Podcast

 

Autopsy

Autopsy: (n) a postmortem examination to discover the cause of death or the extent of disease.

The State of Washington demanded that an autopsy be performed on anyone who died suddenly.dictionary with letter A

It’s a good rule.

But when my thirteen-year-old child passed away from viral pneumonia and we were touring through the state, it seemed arduous, painful and intrusive.

My son’s name was Joshua. He had been hit and run by a car six years earlier, leaving him with a severe brain injury, in a vegetative state.

No one is ever ready for such a responsibility.

We did our best–but after six years, his body began to wear out, giving up its purpose.

Perhaps better care givers could have sustained his inertia, but when he developed pneumonia, the doctors suggested we refrain from heroic measures and let nature take its course.

Given only antibiotics and fluids, he passed away in less than twelve hours.

The State of Washington was not suspicious of our care. The autopsy was just a necessary step to confirm the absence of foul play.

Three weeks later, after Joshie was long entombed, I received the coroner’s report in the mail.

It was fascinating.

It told a story we did not know.

It told us about a little boy who was fatally struck down in the street and possibly should have gone on to his Maker that evening, but because of the advances of medicine, was able to be sustained without being healed.

His brain showed no signs of cognitive activity and his little body was wracked with the evidence of much pain. His organs had shrunk and he was more or less a living experiment.

My mind flashed back to the six years we carried him around, whispered in his ears, hugged him, kissed his face and desperately tried to feed nourishment into his body.

Was he aware of any of it?

Was there any spirit left to retrieve kindness?

I don’t know.

For you see, an autopsy doesn’t report that. 

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Antibiotic

dictionary with letter A

Antibiotics (adj): a medicine such as penicillin which inhibits the growth of or destroys microorganisms.

There are two kinds of knowledge.

There is the current information available through research, discovery and even the sharing of hypotheses.

And then there are personal encounters which we all have with various subjects which grant a peek into the inner workings.

Now, some people swear by pursuing educational tools to learn about the universe and its various parts. Other folks are more intent on having a close encounter of the first kind with what they receive.

So when I look at the word “antibiotics,” I don’t immediately jump on Wikipedia and find out what the scientific community has to say about these chemicals which we refer to as “wonder drugs,” but rather, to take just a moment and tell you that for a very brief season in my life, I found myself septic and in need of pouring these concoctions into my system to counteract infection.

They do have truth in advertising, In other words, they are antibiotics, which means they are against all forms of life. They don’t just kill the bad guys in your blood stream, but while they’re there, are very willing to become hit men to all the good ones wearing white hats.

So even though I was appreciative of the cocktail of medication provided for me, I found myself having to take other pills to counteract the effects the antibiotics had on my “happy places.”

All sorts of little blurps came up on the screen during this season of healing. It let me know three very important things:

1. Antibiotics are good because they do attack the bad.

2. Antibiotics, being strong, destroy anything in their path that’s weak.

3. They should be used as infrequently as possible.

So even though I know that many folks swear by antibiotics, by the time I got done interacting with them, I was swearing at antibiotics.

I am not in a hurry to make reacquaintance or have a reunion. My sentiment about antibiotics is similar to my feeling about the sun: it is very nice to enjoy on a day when you’re going to the beach … but I have no particular desire to get any closer.

 

 

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Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix

Angst

dictionary with letter A

Angst: (n) a feeling of deep anxiety or dread, typically unfocused, about the human condition or the state of the world in general.

I don’t want to be one of those people who pursue so much optimistic hopefulness that I fail to recognize what is necessary in order to maintain our present integrity.

Yet I have to wonder if it’s possible for the human race, in this season, to acquire both of the necessary portions that make us worthy of continuation.

For I feel it takes progress and process.

Yes, I think technology is wonderful, and I do not want to go back to a time when we had no computers, racism was extolled as normal, and antibiotics were not available for sickness.

I am not nostalgic for backward times.

However, by the same token, making progress without honoring the process of human character which honors the feelings of others, makes the world a dangerous place and certainly volatile.

It produces angst.

We become afraid that we will lose our progress if we honor the process. Or we preach the process and become “anti-progress,” making ourselves appear Neanderthal.

Is it possible to be a human being who realizes that progress needs to be made emotionally, mentally, spiritually and physically, without ignoring the values which make the process of living so much sweeter, and ripe with goodness?

We always attach the word “angst” to teenagers, but I am not convinced that a fourteen-year-old riding in a Conestoga Wagon with his parents, crossing the Great Plains in 1850, had much time to reflect on his or her misgivings.

If progress gives us too much free time to bitch and complain, robbing from the process of busying ourselves about becoming better people, then are we really moving forward?

Yet if the process of maintaining civility causes us to be suspicious of every facet of progress, then the foolishness we maintain makes our belief system appear to be shortsighted.

What would it take to mingle progress with process?

  1. I will put to use anything at all that makes life easier, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else.
  2. I will acknowledge that there is no replacement for personal contact, love and gentleness with my fellow-travelers.
  3. I am ready to go forward if it doesn’t push someone else backward.

I think in considering this trio of principles, we can merge progress and process, to generate a climate of mutual benefit, drenched in compassion.

 

 

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Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix

Abscess

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abscess: n. a swollen area within body tissue, containing an accumulation of pus.

I was trying to figure out an acceptable–dare I say pleasant?–way to present the concept of pus. Absent any constructive idea, I was reminded of a time when I was infected with the nasty goo.

I was twenty-two years old, traveling around the country without very much money and no health insurance. One day my face started to swell up. It is a frightening thing when you are fairly homely, to realize that it is possible to become even more unattractive. At first I didn’t worry about it, which was stupid, but then on top of the swelling came great pain, light-headedness, a sensation that I had been beaten up and humiliated by a gang of aggressive nuns, and a little nausea.

I was sick.

I went to a doctor who was gracious enough to offer free service. It was good that it was free, because he thought I had a “cold in my jaw” and suggested antihistamines. I am sure that the medication did kill all my histamines, but they did not seem to be the source of the great swelling.

Finally, near the point of passing out from my affliction, my friends drove me to a dentist in Jacksonville, Florida, who looked inside my mouth, and with a bit of horror etched across his face, announced, “You have a severely abscessed tooth.”

No part of that sounded good. He suggested a treatment of antibiotics for two weeks to reduce the swelling, and then he would pull the troublesome tooth. I laughed through my pain and explained that I would not be in town in two weeks, and that I needed something done today.

He paused. I don’t know what was crossing his mind, but I imagine it had something to do with disposing the body in the Atlantic Ocean if the big, fat boy sitting in his chair died from the treatment given in his office. Actually, I will never know why he did it, but on the spot he chose to give me oral surgery, which included five shots of Novocaine, which did not deaden the anguish. Then he cut inside my mouth and squeezed out all the poison and pus from the swelling.

It was gross, sickening, painful, ugly and all the time he was doing it, he was saying little oaths and curses under his breath because he realized that he was in the midst of a great malpractice suit.

He squeezed and he squeezed, and I cringed and I cringed. After about fifteen minutes, he was satisfied that he had drained the well. He sewed me up, handed me some antibiotics and after about a week, I was well again.

Oh, did I mention that in the same sitting, he reached in and yanked out the tooth? I think he was convinced that if I left his office, I would never try to get help again.

That was my experience with an abscess. Sometimes you just have to cut into it and squeeze out the guck.

It is never pleasant, but if you don’t, all the poison ends up winning.