My Own Medical Drama

Hi, just call me Ms. Infection.

Yesterday, for the fourth time in a little over a year, I ended up at the walk-in clinic for yet another mysterious and quickly progressing skin infection.

It started as a twinge by the nail of my ring finger the night before, but I figured it was just penance for my bad fingernail-biting habit. (Oh yah, you can stop reading now if these sorts of things give you the heebie jeebies. It's OK, I don't mind.) By the next morning, though, it was still aching, so I slapped on antibiotic and a band-aid and went off to work, hoping that'd be enough to stop it.

Of course not. I was in a meeting around 3 when it really started to get uncomfortable. And when I got back to my desk and removed the band-aid, I could see that it was definitely infected and getting swollen (seriously, I won't be offended if you stop reading. I'm typing now so you know it has a happy ending). Off to the clinic I went.

By the time I got there, all I could focus on was my aching finger. It seemed to throb more with every passing minute. I tried reading and then played Tetris on my iPod. I even resorted to the "imagine you're someplace else" exercises I learned in birthing class. They helped for awhile, but I was pretty happy when they called me back. Course, that meant more waiting, which left me enough time to mentally go over the contents of my purse, trying to figure out if I had the proper tools to poke open my swelling finger myself. (Are you still reading?) Turns out the sharpest thing I had was fingernail clippers, but if I'd had a sewing kit, I think I might have gone for it.

When the doctor came in and said he was going to slice it open, it was all I could do to keep from yelling, "yes, please do it now and use your pocket knife if you have to!" But, sadly, he didn't get my pocketknife telepathy, so he left the room for what seemed like an eternity to get a blade and the necessary supplies. I seriously felt like I was in labor all over again. I was just watching the door (while pacing and taking deep breaths) and waiting for relief to arrive wearing a white coat.

Once the doctor did his thing with the proper blade, it was instantly better and by the time I left about 20 minutes later, I was able to happily chat on the phone with my husband instead of being all grimacy and agitated.

I'm not quite sure what the point of blogging about this whole thing is, other that it was an experience that made me dig deep for strength. I'm really not a wimp (though my husband at times says I am). I think it's just a little breath-taking how quickly it went from a little twinge to pain my brain couldn't avoid. And, I swear fingers must have way more nerves than some other body parts. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.