Skip to main content

Pray for Manuel

it's not as bad as it looks?

I'd like to think that but I'm not sure. It all began about two weeks ago when he collided with another player on the soccer field. It left him with a sizable knot on his leg that left him in a lot of pain. He's been back working on the garbage trucks for the past month and apparently about a week ago as he was working some garbagey something sliced into his leg right where the soccer injury was. The knot began to grow and ache and while I was gone on an EMM Central American Retreat, someone had the bright idea to cut the knot open. All manner of puss and blood oozed out and this is what we've been dealing with ever since. I have him on antibiotics (amoxycillin) but I'd really like to get in there and scrub this out with iodine and alcohol. I have none though even if I did I doubt he'd let me. Pray though, with his leg like his he can't work on the garbage trucks and we don't want the infection to spread.

Comments

Matt, Don't use alcohol as it will only damage the healing cells. Warm soaks encourage the pus to come out. I suggest soaking three times a day with clean cloths each time.

Follow up ampicilina with Tetraciclina if he is past 12 years of age. He would take Tetraciclina every 12 hours.

He must rest and not walk much until the healing is completer. That's the hard part. . . not walking and running at his age.
Matt - I'm back in town Monday night, Tuesday sometime, if you want, stop by and I'll get you some of the "good" anitibiotics and some gauze, etc. Or - bring him by and I'll give it a good scrub and give you some stuff to take back.

Popular posts from this blog

Coming to Honduras

The other day in philosophy class I was teaching about existentialism, a philosophy with which I have myriad problems. The universe is absurd, life is meaningless, authenticate yourself with irrational leaps of faith! Hopeless and disconnected from reality if you ask me. Get out of the café Camus, mix with some common folk! Nevertheless, as I was introducing the material I mentioned that the existentialists really probed the questions of Life's meaning and purpose:

"How do I create myself to be unique and significant?" "How do I live an authentic existence?" "How do I give my life meaning and purpose in an otherwise meaningless universe?"
These seem to be questions that are attendant to societies that possess extreme wealth and privilege and an over-abundance of leisure time. I have serious doubts that 15th Century English peasants or even nobles for that matter, spent much time contemplating how they might make their lives unique or leave a significa…

Art Day

I've been forced into an "art-day" by Girlfriend; against my better judgement I've decided to turn to the only medium that I'm remotely skilled at. It's been far too long since I've written anything of worth and as I sit here, pondering my lack of output in the last 4 years, I'm left wondering if I have anything substantial left to offer to "The Conversation". I think I did once, when my integrity and identity were intact and people were genuinely curious about my life here. For reasons too numerous to count though, not the least of which is my own retreat from reflective thought put down on paper, I can't shake the feeling that I've lost the ability to speak and be heard. Girlfriend and I are reading a book about marriage together given to me by my sister; we take turns reading it aloud to the other and as salient points are read we often stop and discuss our thoughts. Thus far it's been a fairly blithe and carefree romp through…

10 Years In Honduras

My good friend Jessiel Rivera reminded me the other day that it was 10 years ago this month that I arrived here in La Ceiba. I remember my arrival here from Costa Rica fairly vividly. I had been getting teary-eyed on the plane from a combination of sleep deprivation, my longing to remain with my friends in beautiful San Jose and some sad indie music on my iPod. It was a hot and terribly humid Sunday afternoon when I landed in the La Ceiba airport and when I stepped off the 10-seater hotbox of an airplane onto the tarmac I was sweaty, bleary-eyed and disheveled. I looked like a typical gringo backpacker except for my mountain of luggage that I had in tow. Two members of the Central Mennonite Church picked me up in their car; how they knew I was the Gringo they were supposed to collect was beyond me but they got it right. I remember them remarking on the number of suitcases I had brought (3) and their heaviness (maximum weight allowance); and the resulting weight of embarrassment I felt…