Friday evening we came home from a walk to find that Presley had an odd bite on her left foot. At first glance it looked like a mosquito bite but, upon inspection, it seemed to have a small laceration in the center of the bite and was a bit more swollen than her other bazillion bites seemed to be. By bedtime, however, the swelling had gone down so we decided it was nothing to worry about.
When we woke up Saturday morning her foot had quite a bit of swelling and she was clawing and scratching at it like there was no tomorrow! I put some anti-itch cream on it, gave her benadryl, and covered it with a sock.
By Saturday afternoon the swelling was getting troublesome and the foot was very feverish. Our local urgent care clinic was closed for the day so we decided to keep an eye on it and get her into urgent care when the opened on Sunday at 1pm.
That plan changed when, after eating dinner, her foot burst open and began to ooze. A trip to the ER became our only choice.
The staff at the ER was friendly and helpful as we registered and the nurse didn’t bat an eye when she asked if Presley was up to date on her shots and we replied that we didn’t vaccinate.
Then it was time to see the Doctor.
Dr.: “Who is her primary care physician.”
Me: “She doesn’t have one.”
Dr.: “She doesn’t have a pediatrician?!”
Dr.: sarcastically “Well then how does she get her shots?”
Me: “We don’t vaccinate.”
Dr: eyes widening
Me: “We’ve done the research and we’ve filed all the necessary paperwork with the state. But that’s not why we’re here this evening.”
Dr: mounting his high horse “I’ve always wondered why they think it’s ok to risk my vaccinated kids lives by exposing them to your unvaccinated kids in public school. I don’t see how that can be legal.”
In my head: “If you believe in the efficacy of vaccines as much as you say you do then your kids aren’t at risk, mine are. Idiot.
What I actually said: “Well, we home school so you don’t have to worry about that. Can we look at her foot now.”
At that point the Doctor, and I use the term loosely, glanced down at Presley’s foot. She was sitting on my lap in a chair and he, at roughly 6ft tall was standing. That’s as close as he ever got to her foot.
Dr: “What kind of soap do you use to wash her?”
Dr: “What kind of soap do you use to wash her?!”
Dr: “Is it anti-bacterial?”
Me: “No. Should it be?”
Dr.: “Well, if you want to prevent staph infections it should be. I’ll get her an anti-biotic.”
And he walked out of the room.
That was it. No exam, no diagnosis, no explanation of risks or how to treat the wound. Nothing.
When the nurse came in with the antibiotics I asked her if Presley did, in fact, have a staph infection. She said that yes, that is was the chart said. And we were sent on our merry way.
I have not quite composed myself enough yet to call the hospital patient liaison to file a formal complaint. But I promise you that this will be my next course of action.
P.S. Reprehensible medical care aside, Presley’s foot is healing nicely thanks to good friends and Dr. Google.