Life is happening at such a furious pace lately that things here are all discombobulated.
Man, I love that word.
Discombobulated.
ANYWAY! That's how it came to pass that I posted a photo of Alexis wearing a giant pink bandage on her arm without having explained how she earned that giant pink bandage. To explain that, I have to jump in the bloggy time machine and back up to last Friday.
I was in New York. When I left the kid, she was absolutely 100% intact and healthy and every bit as crazy as she always is. But, as I was sitting at BlogHer waiting for the next conference session to start, my phone rang. It was the husband and he had called to report that "the thing on Alexis' arm is all swollen and red."
"The thing" was in reference to a tiny little raised spot that had been just above the inside of her elbow for months and months and months. It look, basically, like a little zit. It was a tiny raised space that seemed harmless enough, but that I had made a mental note to have checked next time we were at the pediatrician's office. It was smaller than the tip of a nail. No big deal.
Except that "swollen and red" is kind of a big deal. The husband reported that it had grown HUGE he was going to try to pop it.
I wish I could see your face right now. I bet your jaw just dropped to the floor, exactly like mine did.
I told him to back away from the kid's arm and take her to the doctor. Because, well, if anybody is going to scar the kid for life by squeezing gunk out of a bump on her arm, it should be someone who gets paid to traumatize kids using their fancy college degrees. Long story short, he ended up taking her to the nearest urgent care place. They lanced it and drained it, which is fancy words for THEY MADE MY BABY CRY AND THERE WAS BLOOD.
Now, the child makes me want to smash my head through a wall sometimes with her toughness. Seriously, she's tough. If she says her ears are maybe bothering her a tiny bit, she'll have a severe double ear infection when I take her to the doctor. No joke. HOWEVER, and this is a very big HOWEVER, she is a total and complete wuss about things that shouldn't hurt. I seriously was considering calling a priest to perform an exorcism when she stepped on some weeds outside and we had to pull a splinter out of the bottom of her foot. She screamed and she screamed and she screamed.
So I wasn't there when a doctor cut her open and made her cry, but I do know it must have hurt like hell. She just doesn't complain about real pain. Imaginary, invisible, microscopic pain? Oh, she complains about that. A LOT. She only complains about real pain when she's near death, though.
Anyway, the doctor took a culture and sent it in and we started keeping an eye on the wound. As days went by, it didn't seem to be improving and when we got the call with the results, we had an explanation.
I'm not going to tell you what sort of cootie found its way into my kids blood stream because then one of you will Google it and will tell me all sorts of scary things in plain English in the comments. I already did the Google thing and nearly passed out dead from the two not-really-in-English lines I read about it. I DON'T NEED TO GET MORE FREAKED OUT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
But ... cooties. Not MRSA, thank goodness, but still. Cooties. There are cooties in her blood.
I found out about the confirmed cooties as Alexis and I were driving home from Kennywood. We had spent the entire day riding water rides, meaning I made good on my promise to get wet over and over and over for her amusement. (She was highly amused.) The husband called me with the results and dropped the little detail that the particular bacteria she encountered are spread via water.
We talked about her pool for a minute, but I pointed out that it couldn't be the source because she hasn't gone swimming in a few weeks. The timing doesn't work.
Then we went back and forth about the lake. She has gone swimming there a couple of times this summer, but then I realized it has been too long since we last made that trip as well.
And then I remembered that there was a water thing that fit in the window of opportunity for cootie proliferation.
Kennywood. She rode a water ride at Kennywood with a friend at about the right time for the cooties to get transferred.
I figured that out as water was still dripping from my hair, you guys. KENNYWOOD WATER.
I've taken three showers since then and Alexis has taken two. She's lucky I haven't made her swim in a pool filled with bleach, if we're being honest.
