Sunday, December 16, 2012

53 days later, you get this

Punkin is one of those kids who, after learning a new phrase or skill, insists on practicing it over and over and over and over and over again. So when he told me his toe hurt last Wednesday, I didn't really think much of it because he's recently learned how to communicate that he is in pain.

It all started with an episode of Caillou -- and no, you don't need to tell me how much you hate that bratty little kid. I already know. Caillou is a good show for Punkin; it's calm, it addresses mundane life events such as buying new shoes and falling down and scraping your knee. After the shoe episode, Punkin thought he needed new shoes -- every time we went to the store. And after the knee-scraping show, he decided he needed Band-Aids on his knees, which he wore for approximately 22 seconds, about every 30 minutes.

We moved past the Band-Aids, for the most part, and moved on to simply expressing "I got hurt" or "My knee hurts." Luckily for him, this kind of talk earns him plenty of attention. So now every morning when he climbs on the bus, something different is injured. Again, when he told me that his toe hurt last Wednesday, I didn't really think much of it.

And then I looked at his toe. It was red. It was swollen. "Hmm. Maybe he bumped it." The next day he complained again, only this time the toe looked more purple. "Definitely must be bruised." And then Friday came. I picked him and his multicolored toenail up from school and called the doctor.

The nurse brought this into the room. Yep. There's sharp objects and gauze in that box. You guessed it -- an ingrown toenail. I'll let the pictures tell the rest of the story,
They have got to be kidding. They think they're going to do WHAT to my child's toe? HA!
Oh, and here's a giant tub of soapy water.

Both feet are in and he is still behaving. Maybe this will go better than I thought.
Or not. He might decide to take a bath with his clothes on in a tub that is, I'm sorry to say, a tad tiny.
After recovering from the fact that he got himself  wet, he contemplates his next move. Soak the feet again in the remaining water?
Oh, can't do that. This water is tainted  now. I'll have to dump it out. On the carpet.
And drink the rest. Definitely should drink the rest.
Maybe he was thinking that the soap would help with the infection he apparently has -- the one that made his toe turn purple and green. The one that has to clear up before the torture devices can come out. That one. And no, his pediatrician isn't touching that with a ten-foot pole. He's being referred to a podiatrist and possibly someone higher than a podiatrist depending on how poorly the podiatrist appointment goes. Jealous yet?