Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Understanding MRSA – Part II:
By Phillip T. Alden – San Mateo Daily Journal
For publication – July 24, 2007
This part of the article will focus on two people with MRSA and the people who love them. This story has a personal take, as the people I'm going to profile are part of my life, and what I'll share is my personal experience with them. The names of the patients involved are changed out of respect towards their privacy.
My first profile, "Robert," was very dear to me. I stated in part I that MRSA crosses all demographic and economic boundaries. Robert was a very wealthy man and received the best health care anyone could get. He suffered a stroke and was being cared for at home. One day he fell and broke a small bone in his neck. He was taken to Stanford University Medical Center for surgery to repair the break and contracted MRSA during the surgery.
It was hard on those of us who loved Robert. We could not kiss him or even fully embrace him. We had to wear latex gloves any time we touched him or things like his dinner plate, and we had to follow strict protocols on hand-washing after contact.
It was a difficult way to say goodbye to a man I dearly loved, and he passed away shortly before 9-11. MRSA was a factor in his death.
The second person is a young gay man we'll call "Tad." Tad had been rejected by his family because of his sexuality, though they came around when he was exposed to MRSA after trying to help another person.
Tad lost his teaching position. His boyfriend kicked him out of their home and Tad would have ended up on the street had he not been saved by friends and a sympathetic landlord. But Tad lived in near-homelessness and abject poverty for a long time, increasing his stress level and not helping him in his fight against the MRSA.
I met Tad as a journalist and activist, and we became "email friends." I couldn't meet Tad in person because he was infectious, and even though our society had abandoned him, he took pains to avoid infecting those around him. Talking with Tad by phone and email nearly broke my heart. Here was a man who worked very hard to educate the children of San Francisco, and when he needed help, the people in his former life acted as if he had never existed. Tad was rightfully angry, terrified about what might happen to him, and scared that he might die alone in a tiny apartment near Hunters Point.
But Tad did not die. Instead, even with his illness, he started championing for other people with MRSA who, like him, had been pushed to the margins of our society. His family came around and realized they loved their son and they wanted to help him. So Tad became active in an organization called MRSA Watch.
While Robert had enough money to charter planes and pay for multiple hotel rooms for his health care team, he had no more of a survival rate than Tad. There are many more Tads than there are Roberts, and we need to demand health care, stable housing and food for all the Tads out there.
These are our fathers, our brothers and sisters, our sons and daughters. Compassion and humanity are the only things that will drive us to protect these people, and also make the public at large safer.
By Phillip T. Alden – San Mateo Daily Journal
For publication – July 24, 2007
This part of the article will focus on two people with MRSA and the people who love them. This story has a personal take, as the people I'm going to profile are part of my life, and what I'll share is my personal experience with them. The names of the patients involved are changed out of respect towards their privacy.
My first profile, "Robert," was very dear to me. I stated in part I that MRSA crosses all demographic and economic boundaries. Robert was a very wealthy man and received the best health care anyone could get. He suffered a stroke and was being cared for at home. One day he fell and broke a small bone in his neck. He was taken to Stanford University Medical Center for surgery to repair the break and contracted MRSA during the surgery.
It was hard on those of us who loved Robert. We could not kiss him or even fully embrace him. We had to wear latex gloves any time we touched him or things like his dinner plate, and we had to follow strict protocols on hand-washing after contact.
It was a difficult way to say goodbye to a man I dearly loved, and he passed away shortly before 9-11. MRSA was a factor in his death.
The second person is a young gay man we'll call "Tad." Tad had been rejected by his family because of his sexuality, though they came around when he was exposed to MRSA after trying to help another person.
Tad lost his teaching position. His boyfriend kicked him out of their home and Tad would have ended up on the street had he not been saved by friends and a sympathetic landlord. But Tad lived in near-homelessness and abject poverty for a long time, increasing his stress level and not helping him in his fight against the MRSA.
I met Tad as a journalist and activist, and we became "email friends." I couldn't meet Tad in person because he was infectious, and even though our society had abandoned him, he took pains to avoid infecting those around him. Talking with Tad by phone and email nearly broke my heart. Here was a man who worked very hard to educate the children of San Francisco, and when he needed help, the people in his former life acted as if he had never existed. Tad was rightfully angry, terrified about what might happen to him, and scared that he might die alone in a tiny apartment near Hunters Point.
But Tad did not die. Instead, even with his illness, he started championing for other people with MRSA who, like him, had been pushed to the margins of our society. His family came around and realized they loved their son and they wanted to help him. So Tad became active in an organization called MRSA Watch.
While Robert had enough money to charter planes and pay for multiple hotel rooms for his health care team, he had no more of a survival rate than Tad. There are many more Tads than there are Roberts, and we need to demand health care, stable housing and food for all the Tads out there.
These are our fathers, our brothers and sisters, our sons and daughters. Compassion and humanity are the only things that will drive us to protect these people, and also make the public at large safer.
# posted by Phillip T. Alden @ 10:02 PM 
