I Survived The Doctor's Office, But Barely

Micah is all kinds of freaked out over injuries of any sort. When Sam got stitches in his scalp the other week, Micah had to check every day to see if the injury was still there. Daddy is tall, you know, so seeing the scalp isn't something short little Micah can do without having daddy bend over for a visual check. Micah still checks daddy's head on occasion just to be sure the boo-boo didn't come back.

My awesome leg injury is now Micah's new obsession. When I walked in the house with it last evening, bleeding all over the floor, Micah instantly went into freak mode. And then he followed me up to the bathroom where I was sitting on the side of the tub, talking myself into pouring peroxide on the wound to clean it out. I pulled myself out of my state of near panic to reassure Micah that I was just fine. (When much pain is involved, I'll tend to sometimes turn into a wuss. Judge me if you will.)

Micah was up at 6:03 this morning and instantly came to my side of the bed. That alone is unusual behavior for Mr. I Want To Sneak Downstairs And Loudly Watch TV While Dancing And Singing To Wake The Dead. He pulled back the covers and poked at the wad of gauze on my leg. I tried not to scream and kick him, because even when much pain is involved and I turn into a wuss, I'm still a mom. Needing to reassure that boy that I'm not going to die in the next five minutes is going to be a top priority, even when there is the possibility that I might die in the next five minutes.

Okay, so maybe the wound isn't that bad, but the doctor today was totally trying to kill me. No, I'm not exaggerating. I went in for a tetanus shot (gotta love those), and the doctor poked and prodded inside the gaping hole I have in my shin. After poking at the mass of lumpy flesh in the one corner and pouring saline into the hole to clean it out, he determined that there was no stitching that closed. I knew this, because I have eyes. When I say gaping hole, I mean just that. I can put almost two finger tips inside that cavernous wound. It's like someone took a melon ball scooper and scooped out a hunk of flesh. To close that with stitches would involve a skin graft. I'm sparing you pictures, but just know that it's epic.

After poking and prodding and dressing the wound, the doctor said he'd prescribe an antibiotic to ward off infection. It was appreciated. The amount of dirt and nasty in the hole that I fell into warranted the tetanus shot, and infection could be a real possibility. I reminded him that I was allergic to penicillin, even though I saw my patient chart up on his computer screen and every single line on the screen started with ALLERGIC TO PENICILLIN. You'll never guess what he prescribed for me. Go ahead. Five bonus points to the one who said penicillin. You know what he said? I kid you not, nor am I exaggerating for the sake of a good story, because you cannot make this stuff up, he said, "It's the best medication for your leg. If your lips swell or you get a rash, take Benadryl and go to the emergency room."

Yup. Inspiring all kinds of warm fuzzies, that doctor was. Also? Trying to kill me. See? I told you it was true that I might die in five minutes.

So I called my husband to tell him of the incompetence, and also that I was not going to get that prescription. Turns out, the pharmacy called the doc reminding him that I have that allergy just before my husband called. You know what the doctor said? It gets better. (I know, right?) He said, "If she has an allergic reaction tell her to take Benadryl and get to the emergency room. I'm done taking calls about this."


I'll spare you the boring details of how Sam called the doctor that owns the practice and not only got me medicine that won't kill me but got a very sincere apology and a promise to put the other doc in his place. It's Sam's birthday. That man kind of rocks, taking care of his clutzy wife instead of partying like it's 1989. Not that he could anyway, what with work and all, but still.

Micah came home from school this evening and found me in the sewing room. He pulled up the long skirt I had on to poke at the bandage on my leg. He was a bit freaked out over the fact that it was red with oozy blood again, but I reassured him that I most certainly was not going to die today. He gave me a hug, patted my leg gently, and went on his way.

That boy should be a doctor. His empathy goes a long way in the Making You Feel Better department.


HalfAsstic.com said...

OMG!! He should have his license revoked! How much gall does a person have when they can stand there and look you in the face and tell you they KNOW you're allergic to something but take it anyway and be prepared to rush to the ER so you don't die?
Reminds me of the time a friend of mine's mother was in hospital and was battling a severely low blood pressure along with a multitude of other problems. Her chart indicated she was a "blood pressure patient" with a colored tag or some such thing.
Well, a head nurse sashshayed into the room with a dose of Lisinapril (SP?) and without saying a word to anyone or consulting her chart, started to give it to her. If she hadn't been questioned about what she was giving the poor woman, there's no doubt she would have died. Looking back, I think it's even stranger considering the patient was lying wither her head down and the whole bed at an angle to get blood to her head. It just seemed kind of noticeable to me. I guess all she saw was "blood pressure" and assumed it was high.

wendy said...

WoW! still shaking my head!!! I hope your feeling better this evening.

Cindy said...

I'm shocked about your doctors prescription! Wow! Thank goodness your family is keeping a close eye on you! :)

Nikki said...

I didn't get much passed the pouring peroxide in the wound part. I might have gagged in sympathy for you. Hope it heals quickly. For your sake and Micah's.