Felix got a stick lodged in his arm in the playground last week. Apparently he “tripped and fell”. “Tripped and fell” actually means “we play a game called Tomahawk Wars where we throw sticks at each other and one lodged in my arm”.
We “hoped” he got all the stick out because the FIRST AID TRAINED teachers are NOT allowed to touch the students to pull twigs from their forearms for them. It went a bit red and a bit icky so I whacked some antiseptic cream on it for a few days and it cleared up. Mostly.
Then this dark spot on the wound site appeared. Which, it turns out, would be the rest of the branch. I tried digging it out tonight with some tweezers and a needle but the writhing crying child didn’t help. I was also worried I might not get it all out and that this saga would drag on past Christmas. I mean, I’m already bored. So I took him up to our second home, Mona Vale Hospital Emergency.
I figured the likely event would be some local anaesthetic, a scalpel and a LOT of saline solution and then a stitch. Felix is INSANELY needle phobic so he was not happy about this concept AT ALL.
The registrar quizzed me (HOW LONG AGO?) then the senior doctor came in, took one look at it and said, “yeah, that needs surgery”.
I seriously thought he was taking the piss and laughed.
He wasn’t taking the piss, the kid needs surgery.
SURGERY. Something about length of time it’s been in there (shut up), that it’s a branch (lots of germs), near a joint (DANGER DANGER) and that these things can be “a bit fiddly”.
(namby pamby soft cocks)
And this was meant to be a post about how he started at a new high school today, TODAY.
SO not the favourite.