Recurring Nightmare

When I was a kid, I had the same recurring nightmare, that I lived in a tract house, and walking home, I'd forget which house was mine, and I'd think I found it, go inside, the furniture and all was just the same, but it would be filled with all sorts of strange people who had no idea who or where my family was.  It freaked me out as a kid.

I don't have that dream anymore.  Ever.

Now I have a recurring nightmare that an tiny little microbe, that I can neither see, seek out, nor destroy, is out to harm and possibly kill, my children, one by one, when I least expect it.  This is not a dream, however, but it certainly is a nightmare!

On Sunday evening I notice something on Luke's knee that look sort of familiar and I was suspicious.  A hard red Mt. Fuji, maybe 2 inches in diameter, with a whitish top, and a little tiny scab on the tip.  It is extremely painful to touch.  It was not near as large or nasty as the ones Dylan used to get, but I still knew it when I saw it.   MRSA - the archenemy - was now attacking my youngest- I was sure of it (yet still hoping I was wrong).

So I took him the the urgent care yesterday.  I didn't DARE take him to Healthcare Express, even though that is the closest, because that is where the genius Dr. kept telling me Dylan just had spider bites, over and over.  (Forgive me Lord, for the hate I have in my heart for that man!)  

So I took him over to Desert Urgent Care over across the street from the Marriott, because it was close to my kids school if we got out of there in time to pick them up.   The waiting room was packed.  I signed in and Luke and I waited.  And we waited.  I noticed other folks coming in, and later those folks were filling out forms and being called in.  I watched the front desk, and noticed that the receptionist never ever looked at the sign-in sheet.  It had been a hour (an hour of keeping a three year old who needed a nap happy), and she had no idea we were even there!  So I went up and asked if maybe there was some paperwork I could be filling out while I was waiting.  She gave it to me and I suggested she look at the sign-in sheet once in a while.  I gave her my paperwork and card.  After a while she said that Luke was not on our insurance.  Well, of course Luke was on our insurance.  She assured me that he most certainly wasn't.  The lady at the insurance company even ended the call on her.  So she did what she could on her end, which wasn't a whole heck of a lot, and I called Dennis to see what he could do on his end.  Meanwhile, Luke and I continued to wait, and Luke got wilder and wilder.  At least the waiting room began to clear out, and soon we were the only ones in it, so then I didn't care how Luke acted.  Soon the receptionist stopped trying to help us, and after two hours we left.

When I came home, Dennis was still on the phone with the insurance company, and all patience was gone.  It is another long story, but due to a few errors on the part of the insurance company (that they conveniently have no record of), Luke was not covered, and had not been for some time, and we had no idea.  We had called a few times before and they had confirmed that he was.  They have no record of such a phone call now.  Where is the accountability?

Luckily, Dennis, being the brilliant insurance agent that he is, had recently enrolled our children in Healthy Families, and as of last week, Luke was covered.  Thank goodness!  In fact, the cards had just arrived at Dennis' office, so I drove to Dennis' office to get the cards off his desk, then headed over to VIP Urgent Care across the street from Michaels.  What a nice place! It is brand new, very clean and kid-friendly.  The ladies at the desk were very nice and professional.  We waited a little while as there were several people in front of us.  

I walked into the exam room with my dukes up.  I was ready for a fight.  I would do what ever it took to make the doctor test for MRSA!  I showed him Luke's inflamed knee and explained our families' history with MRSA, how sick Dylan had been, what we had been through, and how the other doctors kept telling me they were just spider bites.  

He said, "I can assure you that this is no spider bite."

Thank you!!!

"Yep, it looks like MRSA to me."

Finally, a doctor who knows what MRSA looks like!  He was young, which I have decided could be a very good thing in a doctor, especially with something as new and up-in-coming as MRSA.

He explained that it didn't look very bad.  It looks like it is just in the skin, not in the blood stream, and that it should be taken care of with some oral antibiotics, and that we need to bring him back to his regular pediatrician (although now I don't know who that is since he is not on our family insurance) in a few days to have it checked again.

My emotions were mixed at the diagnosis.  I was grateful that I didn't have to fight to be heard and validated that the doctor agreed with what I already knew, but at the same time I was just sick at hearing the word "MRSA" again.  The recurring nightmare.  No, not again!

The reality of THIS situation is not bad.  Luke has a small, painful owie on his knee.  That's it.  A week or so of oral antibiotics should take care of it, and it is starting to look  better already.  But it is the thought of what COULD happen that has my insides all tied up in knots.  I know where this could lead.  I've lived that unbelievable nightmare, and have not fully recovered from it yet.  It is still too fresh, too raw.  I still have to look at Dylan every once in a while and assure myself that he really is OK.  He's thriving.

I can't get freaked out about this.  I must tell myself that Luke only had it for 2 days before it was taken care of, while Dylan had it for almost 2 years before it was diagnosed after getting into his bloodstream and settling into his hip.  I know what to look for, and I have doctors now who know what they are talking about.  I have to tell myself it will all be fine this time.

Still, I have that same yucky feeling in the pit of my stomach that you try to shake just after waking from a nightmare, a recurring nightmare.

And recurring nightmares are always the worst.