Oh, MRSA MRSA Me...

Oh, things ain't what they used to be... and that's good and bad, I suppose.

It has been a long, long week. There was dinner, and Disney, and more dinner, and a reunion, and yet more dinner. 

But that’s all for a later post.  The real reason it’s been a long week stems from the YP’s disease. 

As I indicated in my last post, he had a nasty boil.  And was sickly acting, thus headed for the doctor.  On Wednesday. At 9:45 a.m.

At 10 a.m., I was en route to work. So I texted Not Your Average Blogger: “What’s the verdict?”

And got the answer: “Headed to hospital.”

Whaaaa? 

Needless to say, I freak right the frack out. For tests? For admission? For last rites? WTF?? Should I turn around? Should I go into work but expect to leave early?

No answer.

I call his cell phone.  Also no answer.

I call the pediatrician, who kindly informs me that it is just for tests.  NYAB resurfaces while I’m on the phone with the pediatrician, and tells me all is well. OK, then. I continue on to work. 

When I get home, I am greeted with the news that the kid has a staph infection (unsurprising,) and they think it’s MRSA (a little surprising,) and that it’s totally fine if he swims in hotel pools because, “the chlorine will be good for his wound. It might make other kids sick, but …” (Extremely surprising. And disturbing. I mean, how does that work? Like, “Hello, NeighborGirl Faux Pair who is traveling with us, please swim with my son and get the Incredible Hulk of staph infections!”) NYAB also tells me that neither the doctor nor the specialist could get a sample of goo to verify that it was MRSA for sure (and that it was good I’d drained the boil and it had scabbed over,) but it seems likely because he is a hale healthy 6-year-old so it takes a pretty major thing to overcome those defenses.

I find the whole thing a bit odd, because  aside from the whole swimming thing, I’d seen his bump oozing that morning. For another, a highly contagious disease that only the kid has? The kid who sneezes and snots all over us and drinks from our glasses, and so on? Hmm.

Final news flash? The kid has to take 4 pills a day. Two augmentin and two bactrim. 

Huh.  Yeaaaaaah.

Day One: He chokes on them and wails and drools and howls.  Finally he chews them up and makes a dreadful face but does get them down.

Day Two: The kid is back to acting quite healthy and strong, except he gimps around with his arm out like it is broken; I guess because he's afraid he will bang into the bump on his side and cause agonizing pain. I give him pudding to help the pills slide down.  He eats all the pudding. The pills? Still in his mouth.  Sigh. Again, he chews and swallows and howls and drools.  I’m about to send him off with a book while I shower and get ready for work, but his scab breaks. And I am telling you, it is the Niagara Falls of disgusting goo. A gusher. A half-box of Kleenex. I would have been fascinated, except the kid was every bit as hysterical and insane as the time before and I don’t have time to be amazed because I’m dodging flailing limbs.  I give up and inform work I am exhausted and will be staying home. 

NeighborGirl Faux Pair comes over, and good thing too.  We went through another four sessions with her holding him down and me squeezing and squishing.  Argh.  So gross. NeighborGirl was OK until a big hunk of goo had to be drawn out with tweezers, when even she was squicked, but draining was easier after that, albeit every bit as gushy and prolific. We take a break to go fetch the rental car. Then the kid gets his pills ground up in applesauce, which he snarfs down without a second thought, and it works very well.

Day Three, Morning: We are on the road.  We drain his wound at the hotel and probably wake up everyone on the second floor of the Comfort Inn.  Then we eat at Cracker Barrel. Where they serve applesauce. Into which we put the ground up pills.  And which he agonizes over, and psyches himself out, and eats six bites of, and then barfs it all right back up – INTO THE SAME BOWL. So not only did he not keep any down, he can’t eat anymore.  Argh!  We have a big screaming Wow Average Blogger Could You Be A Worse Parent Moment in the parking lot, wherein he chews up another pill and throws up again in the bushes.  Yay us.  NeighborGirl is entirely entertained and amused and can’t stop laughing – particularly at the woman looking on horrified near the store entrance.

Day Three, Afternoon: You try lancing a 6-year-old’s boil in the back seat of an SUV at an Exxon. That was fun.

Day Three, Evening: We arrive in Orlando.  Squish him again at the hotel. More howling.
We meet my friend Bald Owl for dinner.  In an effort to avoid a repeat of the morning, we put the ground pills into a milkshake.  Which he sips in agony. And then barfs all over me – and my purse. Though, fortunately, not INTO my purse.  I am reasonably sure Owl was beyond appalled and horrified, but he was most gracious and pretended  not to have noticed a thing up until and possibly even after I reacted violently, flinging the kid off my lap and into the next room as I howled and flapped ineffectually at my skirt.

Day Four: The bump is much better and nicely scabbed.  We grind up the bactrim, the more important of the two stinking pills, dump it on a waffle, and tell him it’s powdered sugar.  He buys it.  We attempt the bactrim in ice cream at DisneyWorld and more or less fail, but at least there’s no urge to purge. We head to Plant City, we see a good friend, we stuff him full of McNuggets, we send him off to the pool and we skip the evening attempt at drugs. To hell with it.

Day Five: We stuff both drugs in a peanut butter sandwich. He catches on, but not until he’s eaten most of it.  Happily, he opts not to throw up this time.  We drive to Atlanta. NYAB decides he’s done in and begs off going to dinner. He and the kid stay at the Embassy Suites and meet up with an old family friend, and again eschew the whole mess.

Day Six: We opt to give up on augmentin, as it is too bitter and too crunchy. Waffle trick again with bactrim. Kid is completely snowed. Wound basically healed.  Day’s second dose of bactrim buried in ice cream.

Day Seven: Last dose also in ice cream and smothered in chocolate syrup.

Day Eight: Oh, how I loves me some doctors.
9:15 a.m.: Call "infectious disease specialist" two whom the other doctor referred us, only to be told she only sees patients 18 and over. WTF?  Get referred to "Dr. Dan Kim in Springfield."
9:17: Call Dr. Kim's number, only to be told by the guy who answers, "Well, that's the number you dialed, but unless he's hiding under my bed, ain't no Dr. Kim here."
9:20: Log on to home computer to see if I can find the right phone number.
9:28: Give up on f'ing computer and go shower while it loads.
9:47: Return to computer,  look up Dr. Dan Kim.
9:39: Learn it is Dr. Daniel KEIM -- and he doesn't take our health insurance.  All pediatric infectious hoohahs who are in our network operate out of DC or farther away.
9:40: Call original doctor and ask, "OK, I tried. WTF?"
10:25: The doctor's assistant calls back and says,  "IDK! I will call! We wouldn't have referred you if she hadn't said she'd make an exception! I will call you back!"
2 p.m.: Infectious Disease Specialist calls back and tells me she will see us in two weeks. Two weeks? Eh. I guess we’ve contaminated four states, what’s another two weeks?

Comments

[Angela]

This is like one of those true life Chuck Palahniuk tales. SOOOOO gruesome! Gonna throw up now, unless you post some Disney World pics. Please!!

[average blogger]

That's Average Blogger community service for ya -- fighting obesity and overpopulation, one blog post at a time!

[Dionna Gregory]

J was horrible about taking pills too. Always requested doc to give him liquids, cause pills made him gag. Finally got him to start taking small pills, ibuprofin or benadryl, when he was 11 or 12.

When he was 7 or 8, he was given an antibiotic. Mean Old Mom told doc that pills would be fine. You should have seen look on J's face when we opened bottle, and they were fairly large CAPSULES. UGH! Not the biggest in the world, but definitely not small. He managed to take one, after many attempts. Claimed we made him nervous watching him. So he would wander around the house with a pill in one hand, and a cup of water in the other trying to find the perfect spot in the house, where his Power of Braveness was the strongest. It was a struggle, but he finished prescription and recovered nicely.

ACT II...months later

Start finding red pills everywhere!
Under his bathroom sink-discovered while changing faucet.
Under stove (along with 30 bouncy balls-he collects, cats chase all over house, until evil monster under the stove adds them to his stash)-found while replacing stove.
Under refridgerator-found while on search for elusive red pills.

He actually did recover, and after counting pills that we found, we determined he only took 3 or 4 total. WTF! Guess he didn't really need them after all! What a waste of money, the dr and the pills.

[patriotschick]

Don't ask how, but I was just having a conversation yesterday about how chlorine in a pool does not kill eColi - and after reading this, I followed up with my friend @ CDC, who said saline water, yes to treat staph, chlorine, um, no. I hope a doctor wasn't the source of that!

[average blogger]

Oh, Dionna, I feel so much better! And yeah, I was wondering how much the pills really matter too. Now I know!!

PC!!! Where have you been!?!? A doctor was the source of the chlorine comment, but I think she just meant to clean out the big gaping hole in his side, not to actually kill the bacteria.

[JW]

Best AB post ever. Where's the little thumbs-up button?