So as I expected, my doctor told me this morning that the top of my foot is a little infected. I had suspected that a few days ago but then it started looking a little better, a little different. Though it still hurt I kept saying that I fell down the freaking stairs and that's why it still hurt.

Even The Mr. said he didn't think I needed to go to the doctor. But the swelling wasn't getting any better and I wanted to make sure that I was doing for it everything that I needed to do. And wanted to confirm my infection suspicion.

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It happened quickly: one day I was dealing with a cold, another day I realized I was fighting allergies, and between the time I woke up on Monday and drove to work my throat was so sore and my ear hurt so bad that I called the doctor.

You wouldn't think that in such a dry climate we'd have to deal with allergies, but allergens can actually be pretty bad here in the spring. So I'm sure that between the cold and the allergies my body just couldn't fight any more and my tonsils got infected. Not bad enough that they need to come out, but bad enough for a seven-day course of antibiotics.

And with antibiotics -- not to mention an infection -- comes a whole host of diabetes considerations. First, just the nature of having diabetes makes it more difficult to fight an infection. Diabetes + infection = high blood sugar. Or at least it can. On top of that, antibiotics can cause high blood sugar.

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The old fable of Androcles and the Lion -- or in some versions, the Mouse and the Lion -- highlights an unusual amity between two beings who are usually considered predator and prey. In the story, the lion has been crippled by a thorn stuck in his paw which he could not reach, see, or remove. The prey, whether mouse or man, sees the problem, overcomes his fear of the predator, and offers to remove the thorn. The wound heals, and the lion is ever thankful to his unlikely physician.

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Last Thursday I noticed a spot on the tip of my second toe. I am not the most flexible guy in the world so being able to really get a good look at it is difficult. I asked my wife to check it out. She said it looked like a blood blister.

I cannot remember ever bumping my toe or stumping it. For the life of me I have no clue how my toe ended up purple.

My wife’s first response was typical, “Go to the doctors!”

I of course said yes and spent the day putting off calling. I posted about it on my blog and all the comments I got said the same thing, “Go to the doctors.”

You must understand, I get very annoyed at the doctors. My doctor never seems to be in or have an opening when I need him. I usually end up seeing one of the doctors on duty which drives me nuts because they always say, “follow up with your doctor.” Nice.

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It's back. And this time I'm definitely blaming the blood/bacteria in my urine on my refillable water bottle. Remember several months ago when I had two horrible infections in the course of two months? Remember that I searched online in vain to blame the problem on my Nalgene bottle, but to no avail? Well, I ditched the Nalgene bottle and the problem went away. Except that when you live in the desert you have to drink water. Lots of water. So I bought another refillable water bottle and drank gallons of water a day. Well, not really, but you get the picture. And what happens? Three months later I'm in agony again.

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It's not unusual for me to be woken in the wee hours of the morning. Typical offenders include No. 1, No. 2, No. 3 and The Mr.'s snoring. Despite the amount of water I *think* I drink, it's surprisingly not to visit the facilities.

But Sunday morning, some time before 5 a.m. I awoke. Confused, not feeling right and uncomfortable. Something propelled me to go potty. Oh, the pain was terrible! I had the same symptoms of blood in my urine (which pretty much mimics a urinary tract infection) that I had at the end of February. This was miserable.

Still uncomfortable, I tried to go back to sleep, but the stinging wouldn't let up. And, well, The Mr. was snoring. I maneuvered around the creeky boards in our 100-year-old home to the living room couch, where I honestly thought I'd be able to fall asleep. But I found myself in the bathroom literally every two minutes squeezing out teeny drops of relief. (READ MORE)