Yes, this post merits a title of three "eewww"s, so consider yourself forewarned if discussions of oozing pus, detached fingernails and painful procedures on screaming 5 year olds isn't up your entertainment alley.
About two weeks ago, my son pinched or slammed two of his fingers in a screen door. I wasn't with him and don't have the full report of exactly what happened, but he came home with obvious bruises on his fingers. Over the next few days, the nail on his ring finger turned purple, seemingly from blood pooled underneath it.
Last Friday, he told me his finger was feeling sore, but I didn't notice anything and didn't think much of it. By late that afternoon, though, it became obvious there was a problem.
We were at Toys 'R Us shopping for a birthday present for a friend whose party was the next day when he reached for something on the shelf. I caught a glimpse of his hand and immediately grabbed it to look at his finger, which was obviously ragingly infected -- red, swollen, hot to the touch, crusty from oozing pus and, best of all, entire fingernail a funky greenish white color. (This is as tame a description as I can come up with. It's all downhill from here for the squeamish.)
It was 4:56 on a Friday afternoon when I grabbed the phone and muttered a prayer under my breath that someone would still be answering the phone at his doctor's office. She was -- whew! -- and had us meet the on-call doc there at 5:30.
The doc decided we needed to drain some of the pus from my son's finger and proceeded to cut a hole in the skin just under the edge of the nail. My son winced a little but took it like a champ. That move wasn't as effective as she was hoping, though, so she moved on to Plan B.
Plan B, unfortunately, was to jab a hole through my son's fingernail, into his very inflamed and tender flesh, and squeeze and prod his painful finger to coax out the offending pus. He laid there on the crinkly exam bed paper with tears streaming down his cheeks and into his ears, whimpering "ouch, Mommy, ouch" while a nurse bodily held him down and I stroked his head and tried valiantly to choke back tears. It was really awful.
But it was over relatively quickly, and we were sent home with an oral antibiotic and instructions to soak his finger in warm water and squeeze it a couple times a day. Great.
By Tuesday, though, it was clear that the antibiotics weren't making a dent in the infection. His finger was getting more red, more obviously filled with pus, more painful to the touch, so back to the doctor's office we went.
We saw a different physician this time who, although he's not been my favorite doctor in the past because of a somewhat lacking bedside manner, impressed me with his thoroughness.
Upon realizing that the original problem came from his finger being slammed in the door (which the first doctor also knew), he took an x-ray to make sure a broken bone wasn't contributing to the problem (no break). One point for the previously unfavored doc.
He also put a hole in my son's fingernail to drain the pus, but he used a different implement and did it in such a way that caused my son next to no pain. Two points for the previously unfavored doc.
He lastly asked if the previous doctor had cultured any of the pus to determine what type of bacteria was going on (she hadn't), so he sent some of what he got out to check for MRSA (that antibiotic-resistant bug that goes around hospitals a lot). That's a scary thought, but nevertheless, three points for the now obviously favored doc.
He sent us home on a stronger oral antibiotic, a topical antibiotic and, again, instructions to soak finger and squeeze. The infection has since cleared up wonderfully and is well on the road to healing (lab tests finally returned today -- no MRSA).
The last bit of ick I'll foist on you, though, will be this tidbit: his fingernail, which I knew he was destined to lose through all this, is now hanging by little more than a gooey bit of flesh near the base of his nail. I can lift the whole thing up and use a q-tip to get the antibiotic ointment down in there, which is probably great, but still pretty nasty. It literally makes my skin crawl every time I touch it -- and is giving me the heebie jeebies while I sit here and type about it. Ugh (insert bodily shudder here).
So, another unexpected and rather disgusting travail of parenting under my belt. I just thought you'd all like to know.
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