Gasping for Breath: A Juan Gris Retrospective (curated by Dan Hoffsteader)

I have a boil on my leg. It's nowhere near as nasty as it sounds, but I find the entire concept somewhat unsettling. See, any mention of boils immediately makes me think of buboes (which are, incidentally, not related to and only slightly less viscerally disturbing than Boobahs). In turn, buboes make me think of the Black Plague, which brings me to today's topic. That's right! It's time for your very first edition of "Craazyy, Crazy Theories and Cosmic Questions"!!!!!

Today's topic: The Black Plague

 Whenever I think about Bubonic Plague, I marvel at the fact that it's still alive and well in today's ground squirrel communities.  Just think about that. This disease ravaged Europe during the Middle Ages, killing an estimated 30-60% of the population, but until maybe a decade ago, I hadn't a clue it was still around because we NEVER HEAR ABOUT IT. Why? One word, my friends: antibiotics. Thanks to the wonders of modern medicine any individual who contracts this once-upon-a-time-death-sentence can now be rid of it with a one or two week course of pills!
This is the point where my mental crazytrain always takes a specific side spur. I've never actually done any research on this, so it's entirely possible an answer lies out there waiting for me and I'm just too damn lazy to find it, but consider this: penicillin (the first recognized antibiotic) is produced by certain types of mould, often found on bread. Knowing what I do of food sanitation in the Middle Ages (for example: "let's spice this meat so you can't taste the fact that it happens to be ROTTING"), it's pretty reasonable to assume that people wouldn't be bothered by eating some bread with a little mould on it.  According to the ever-reliable Wikipedia,
"The use of bread with a blue mould (presumably penicillium) as a means of treating suppurating wounds was a staple of folk medicine in Europe since the Middle Ages."

So my question is: did anyone contract the Plague and inadvertently cure themselves by eating moldy bread? The chances seem too good for it not to have happened, and I can't help but feel like there's a short story or a plot device or SOMETHING in this concept, but I'm not really inclined to take it anywhere else, so this entire mental sidespur just gets filed away to miche about in the library of Reoccurring Crazy Thoughts and Ideas.