The good news: Boy is home early! Yay for boyhugs.
The bad news: He is home early due to injury. Of course.

About a week to ten days ago, he was nicked by an arrow in the leg. (Long story.) Tonight they called me to tell me the wound had gotten badly infected, and he needed immediate medical attention. So I drove out to collect him and his things (made record time to camp); he was due to leave Sunday, so this basically cuts his time short.

He greeted me, "Hello momperson."

So tonight was a pile of fun, with attempting to clean out the wound and bandage it properly. I am not a doctor, nor do I play one on TV, but I worked as a medical assistant in my youth, and Jim was an Air Force medic. (Of course, that was in 1985, so our arguments over the advisability of using hydrogen peroxide in wounds will continue as long as we argue over macaroni and cheese as a side dish.)

We drove by Jim's work on the way back from camp so Jim could look at the leg. We debated taking him to urgent care, but they were all closed, so it was ER or wait until morning for his doctor. After examining it we opted for the latter, though I know I won't sleep well tonight.

(Note: As is usual for my blog entries, I'm writing this at night but it won't post until tomorrow, so I'll already have not slept well last night. Diagram that sentence! Confused? Moving on...)

ME: What concerns me is if they feel it needs more cleaning or treatment than they can provide in the office or needs stitches, because that requires local anesthetic and they don't do injectable locals at the pediatric clinic, so he'd have to go to Anderson anyway. Ask me how I know that!
MAN: Because at some point, Ian did something to himself that required a local anesthetic to fix.
ME: Multiple points.

I am fastidious about wound care, and have yet to convince either Man or Boy that rips in the skin need to be treated properly. Perhaps this will get their attention. I wouldn't put money on it. Doctor Mom to the rescue again.

Boy is sorely disappointed to miss the final campfire for his time at camp, which has been a terrific experience by all reports. He is also quite chagrined that he's likely going to be on the non-swimmers list when we go on vacation. While I don't blame him for that disappointment, it will serve as a reminder to disinfect and treat wounds properly in the future. You know, like they teach in Boy Scouts. Insert eyeroll here.

This is why mothers of boys have grey hair.

Also: He's been home for 90 minutes, so we're out of milk.


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