Re-vamp of the progressive demise of the Scrapbooking Asset's fin (aka the bird, and Sal's infected finger...)
Melbourne Cup weekend, November 2008.
Sal was away on a (Scrapbooking Family Cult) River Murray Camp... she left at 4:30pm Friday afternoon. She came upon the realization that, looking into the dim light of the camping agenda, her annoying finger could just wait!! It just looked like a sore with a weak formed scab...nothing to worry about….
On the first night about 10pm I got told about the sore finger, and that she had not vomited during the day and that her finger was feeling twice the size it should be, very swollen, red and angry looking, pussy and very sore. I told her what to do, take a Panadol and go to bed… She didn’t seem to need to bring back the Medicare number or go to the hospital, so we guessed in the dim light that the Panadol would do the job.
2:16am the dog barked, it was Sal at the first aid kit seeking more Panadol. Surely she must have knocked it packing and the throbbing would stop – it wasn’t like we had to take her to hospital or anything. We would be told if she looked concerned about the finger, or if she’d be wanting to go into a hospital to do an x-ray or anything because she was concerned that the infection had spread to the bone. I spoke to Sal at this stage, after yelling at the dog, and she was in pretty good spirits (couple of Johnnie Walkers missing…). Her spiritual guide and support, deputy grand poo bah teacher was pretty good though, getting lots of sleep because he’s tired!
Saturday 8:10am the text bleeped. The x-ray vision had deemed that there appeared to be no infection in the bone, but the finger itself seemed redder and swollen. Had they taken blood tests at River Murray Camp, given her a course of IV antibiotics and a tetanus shot, they would have saved a lot of Panadol and Nurofen! They wanted to keep her at the River Murray Camp for another 2 days, to make sure they got the finger bigger and redder and pussier so that they could test the healing properties of the River Murray once dunking resumed. There was more than enough IV antibiotics at the hospital anyway to do the trick if she needed to get them into her to kill the infection the River Murray couldn't heal.
Sunday 10:15am my text bleeped, it was from my neighbour’s campsite some long long long way away. It was the Dragon. She informed me that she wanted to OPERATE on Sal’s finger to remove the pussy fluid and she needed my assistance! I tried to ring the deputy grand poo bah but couldn't get through... and later realised this was because he was talking to Sal. She burst into tears and ran up the bank, but we had to tell her to finish up the Nurofen and sit down where she was and then she could go home when we’re finished without a worry in the world….
Tuesday, 5.15pm after mass evacuation of HillBillies and Hoota habitation sites, Sal attempted pain stricken mercy dash for the doctor to lance the fin and relieve the pressure of the pussy swelling, pain and throbbing. “Oh no” he says, “we don’t need to do that, just soak it in salty water and squeeze it and massage it to get the puss oozing….” “Please lance it???” begs Sal………… “Go get some antibiotics, and soak it, take some Panadol and let me know if it gets worse.” ……………….. DOH!!!
Wednesday 11:15am my mobile rang. It was the Fiona-e-atric Surgeon from the daycare hospital. She explained that a River Murray abscess had formed around Sal’s fin bone, and they needed to operate. She would remove as much of the nail as tolerable, clean out the wound, drain the fluid from the River Murray abscess, and drain any other pussy fluid. Observation assistants of daycare attendees were pooled around for vocal and visual support. They would then wrap her fin up and resume routine Panadol and Nurofen intake to supplement the antibiotics. If only the doctor had the lancing skills of the Fiona-e-atric Surgeon, further treatment would not be necessary…
Next day at 8.30am I texted the HillBillies to inform them of my night sweats, lack of sleep and thumping fin pain. I had a shower, and headed back down to the non-lancing doctor, who duly informed me that I was required to pack my bag, and head down to the hospital for a three day rest. Having spoken to Mum and my surgically adept neighbour, spoken to the schools and Boydy, I was ready to head out the door. Boyd is stuck somewhere between his highway mistress and a haystack, and will not be home until Thursday night. Thank goodness for the brilliance of our neighbours and family, who will look after the boys whilst I nurse the fin in hospital.
They again examined the wounded fin, and commenced to remove as much of the nail as tolerable, clean out the wound, drain the fluid from the River Murray abscess, and drain any other pussy fluid. They would then wrap her fin up and resume regulation hospital pain relief, and commence searching for a suitable vein somewhere on her body (lucky she’s not a bloke – I’d stick one there!) to insert the IV once a vein become available, and then she would be able to intake a couple of extra routine pain relief supplements to support the antibiotics. Can never have too much Panadol and Nurofen! With all that sorted and enormous amounts of dressing and padding for one single fin, she was propped up in bed. She would need a decent propping insitu for 48-72 hours under the watchful eyes of empathetic care fluffers.
What would a trip to hospital be without the enjoyment of smothering ones pallet with the dishes of an Ethiopian smorgasboard, the gentleness of needles pulling drips and the peace and tranquillity that takes you back to the feel of being in a hardwood forest, the husqvarna at full noise dropping trees, enjoying the tranquility away from everyday family hustle and bustle……………
Such excitement could only mean that the hand solo was flat out in cyber texting mode, with updates and photographic memorabilia of her every waking hour!! We are all so glad you have us guys in your life. How boring would it be otherwise?
Happy recuperation!
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