So is it MRSA, or not?

My oldest son DJ was helping a neighbor Sunday before last, and he came home and was itching his arm like a dog with fleas. He showed me what I thought was a mosquito on his forearm, and i just put some campho=phenique on it, and forgot it. But the next day I called to make sure he was on his way home from school, and he says,

"Oh yeah, and mom? I think you might need to take me to the doctors. That bite got really big."

So I'm thinking that his big and my big are like the difference between a chihuahua and Zena, our mastiff. Ok, so I was wrong.

This thing was huge! He had A Popeye arm, and I would have taken a picture but I was totally freaked out. So I ran him to the ER, and this man next to had just lost the tip of his finger in a lawnmower accident. In another post, I will let you in on why I don't seem so shocked at the finger loss accident-been there done that. It kinda (not really) put it into perspective, but then this doctor came over and takes one look at his arm, doesn't even touch him, and says,

"Well, 90% of all bites we are seeing these days are MRSA. So I'm going to give him this antibiotic and this one, blah, blah, blah..."

That is all I heard after MRSA. I know what that is. My child has the superbug!!! Lovely, and it would have to be the one who has taken the most antibiotics in his life. This was a conversation which took all of 35 seconds, and he basically just scared the shit out of me, and walked away.

So I took him home, and went to get his prescription, and then came home to watch him. And watch some more, and he is 16 and he doesn't so much like that anymore and I don't know what exactly I was watching for. Maybe a big bug with fangs and puss to come out of his ear so I knew it had left him ? I have no clue, but hovering would be an under statement. I even wanted him to sleep with me, but as he is 16, I settled for on the couch.

The next day, I called his regular doctor and he made me feel better, but told me that if his arm became any more swollen or red, take him back in. That night it became more red and even bigger. So, because I was the picture of the calm and collected mother, I ran him across the street to the DENTIST who lives there and is now considering moving. At that point, I figured an MD is an MD? No, but it freaked him out and he assured me that I would not be over reacting if I took him back to the ER. So I did.

There seems to have been a run on the ER that night, and DJ was freaked out to say the least. When we checked in, the nurse was so kind as she told my needle phobic child that he was going to have to have an IV. Thank You Nurse Ratchet! Needless to say, he tried to bid her good day, and run. He still had hold of his manners. So, I got him back to the exam bed in the middle of the room, and the man next to us, wearing a charming anklet with a flashing red light, is instructing the doctor on the correct dosage of Dilodid he would require to make it home. And there seems to have been a kerfuffle of some sort at a nearby bar involving a bitch , a ho, and a very large woman (?) who is a word I cannot say or I will be struck by lightening. And DJ was sitting in the middle of the room with a front row seat.

A very nice doctor came over and looked at his arm, and then marked the outline of the redness and swelling with a sharpie, and then told me that DJ does NOT have MRSA, per se, but they are treating him as if he does, in case it is. HUH? DJ was fine with that, but I wanted to ask questions, and he wanted to leave, lest the man decide to get out that IV. And the "ladies"down the hall were causing a ruckus over the last blanket in the warmer. So he told me to keep giving him the antibiotics, and gave him a stronger anti histamine, and told me that if the swelling grows to be an inch out of the sharpie line, bring him back.

So it seems that I reacted a little too soon, as he was 199% better the next day. So I let him out of the house. He was great, and taking his medicine until Saturday morning when he woke up with a fever of 104.5, and a raging headache. Mind you, as he has always had a problem with high fevers, I did not freak out that much. Just added Advil and Tylenol, switched out like he always has. But I still did the good modern mommy thing, and checked Google. Yes, Universe, he is going to die, according to Google.

By Sunday night, he had somehow developed a case of hives the likes of which I had never seen. He looked like a tomato, as they had started on his neck, and settled on his face and upper body. and as I was blithering on and getting ready to take him back to the ER, he put his foot down. Apparently he would rather die. This alerted me to the possibility that the state of our emergency rooms were such that a High School age child thinks that there is too much drama there for even him to handle. So I called, and was told what I already knew.

It seems that he is having a reaction to the Sulfa in the antibiotics, but that doesn't explain the fever. So I took him to the doctor the next day. His was out so he saw a woman. Oh God, THE HORROR! But she was good! Great even. She made the over-worked docs at the ER look like hacks. he was extremely offended when she touched his peetail. It reminded me of the scene in that movie Multiplicity where the 4th copy says,

"She touched my pepee, Steve."

Then when I asked her to tell him he really needed to start drinking, she looked at me real funny, and then started laughing. She thought I was suggesting he start knocking back shots of Jager or something. I love this doctor. She actually TOUCHED the patient during the examination, she knew what was wrong, AND (BONUS!!!) she has a sense of humor. He has a secondary infection, and has to take a different medicine, and then come back in a week for a follow up. Do you have any idea how refreshing it is when you get an answer, or when a doctor actually acts like they care what happens? I probably paid more to go to the ER twice, then I will for all the medication and the GOOD doctors appointment. Why are doctors immune to the get what you pay for rule? I want a refund.