This all started maybe a year and a half or so ago. Dylan got something that looked like a nasty spider bite on his knee. His whole knee was red and inflamed to the point where he could hardly walk on it. There was something that looked like a pimple that grew larger until it finally burst and a greenish pus came out. Over the next several days the flesh surrounding it literally melted away, creating a hole in his knee. It was nasty. I took him to the urgent care, of course, and was told that indeed it was a spider bite. Call in the pest control, and that was that.
A few weeks later he had another nasty "spider bite" further down his knee. Odd. I took him back to urgent care and the doctor took one look at it and confirmed that it was another spider bite, probably from a brown recluse spider. I asked him why a spider would attack the same person in the same place weeks later. He brushed me of. I guess the spider was very selective about his meals, and Dylan was his favorite tasty morsel. Meanwhile, he suffers and limps through another horrible something.
Several months later, his elbow gets inflamed and another painful "spider bite" appears. Again to the urgent care. His diagnosis, once again: spider bite. Me: "Oh Doctor? I did some research, and the brown recluse spider doesn't live anywhere near this area. I don't think this is a spider bite. I have six kids and no one else seems to be getting bitten. Are you sure this isn't some kind of infection in his system that keeps popping up?" His answer was a roll of his eyes and "I know. I've been a doctor a long time, and seen a lot of spider bites in my time. Believe me, its just a spider bite." His tone was something like, "please woman, leave the diagnostics to the trained professional."
A few months later, on the other knee. Poor kid - suffering. Here we go again. Dr.'s diagnosis: Ta-Da "spider bite." Me: "Um, I heard something on the TV about a nasty staph germ called MRSA, and I did a little research and from what I've read it sounds like Dylan has MRSA." Dr. I'm-So-Brilliant : "It's not MRSA." Me: "Are you sure?" Dr. Smarty Pants: "Oh yes."
Several months later, back on the other knee. Me: "Don't even tell me it is a spider bite. I'm telling you its an infection." Dr. Didn't-Hear-A-Thing-You-Said: "It's a spider bite." Me: "I want you to test for MRSA." Dr. Humor-The-Freaked-Out-Mom: "Fine." So he sends in his nurse or assistant of some kind who swabs the unbroken "bite". Me: "Don't you need to pop it first and let the pus out before you swab it? Don't you need to test the junk inside?" Mr. Clueless Nurse: "No, This is fine." A few days later a phone call. "Good news. The culture came back negative for MRSA. (gloating) It's just a spider bite." I wasn't surprised by the diagnosis, because the test was done wrong.
This whole time I am telling Dennis. That kid has MRSA or something nasty like it. It is in his blood stream and one of these days it is going rear its ugly head in a nastier spot in his body. I just know it.
Fast forward to last week. Another "bite" appears on the right knee." This time we call a dermatologist, who can't get him in for a week. Meanwhile Dylan is limping around in pain , the thing breaks and scabs over. New Doctor take one look and says. "Its nothing, probably just a spider bite." Me - again: "Its not a spider bite. He keeps getting it. I think it is an infection that keeps popping up. Can you test it for MRSA?" Dr. Renowned Dermatologist : "Naw, it is too late. I don't think the culture would pick up anything." Me: "Can you try?" Dr. Don't-Bother-Me: "Naw, bring him back when he gets another one." Dylan cringes. I don't think Dylan really wants another one.
That was Wednesday.
Friday morning Dylan complains that the back of his left thigh hurts. I figure he must have strained a muscle doing taekwando or playing around. He is still limping around from the thing on his right knee. Friday he limps up to receive his student of the month award, and goes camping with the Boy Scouts and limps around on a hike.
On Saturday after the camp-out we all attend a taekwando demonstration. He tries to enjoy himself but isn't himself. Afterward we went out to dinner and he is not happy, complaining that the back of his thigh really hurts. I notice he has a fever, and figure that when you get a fever everything aches, and a pulled muscle would feel magnified.
Sunday, Dennis stayed home with him from church. He slept the whole time. I figured Dylan was coming down with the flu, or whatever is going around. That night after choir practice, Dylan was awake, still feverish, and complaining that the back of his thigh really hurt. Dennis gave him a blessing before bed. After the blessing I was really uneasy. He was miserable, and I stayed on the sofa with him trying to make him comfortable. I started putting 2 and 2 together. A strained muscle would get better, not worse over time. If he had the flu, other symptoms other than fever would have come by now. Fevers also mean infection. Its that MRSA. Those "spider bites", the pain in his leg, and that fever are all related. I knew it. There must be an infection deep inside his bone or something.
It was 1:30 am, Monday morning. I woke up Dennis and told him what I suspected, and took him to the ER just after 2 am. Once again I told everyone who would listen about the nasty "un-spider bites" he had been getting, but nobody was really interested, since the latest one was on his other leg and pretty crusted over by then. He was is so much pain and could hardly walk. It hurt to move, and the slightest touch made him wince in pain. They took some blood, and took an x-ray of the hip and thigh, and sent him down for a MRI.
The MRI was unreal. Scary, like something from Star Trek, and so very LOUD and long. We were in there almost an hour. I could be in the room, but not near Dylan. We both wore earplugs because of the noise so I couldn't really communicate with him. It was horrible. I was sitting there thinking about the great lesson Sister West gave in Young Women's the day before. It was about dealing with change. She had said "Have you ever had one of those moments where you think, Wow, just yesterday I had NO IDEA I'd be doing this today!'?"
I was having one of those bizarre moments.
The MRI showed a pocket of fluid in his hip joint. Well, after all the tests, the doctor came in and said he had just been reading an article the day before in a pediatric journal, about hip infections in children, and it completely applied to Dylan's case. It had 5 factors, like white blood cell count, some other blood count, not weight bearing, etc. and Dylan met all five, which meant Dylan had a 99.5% chance of having an infection in his hip. This was a blessing that the doctor had just read this article, because they were about to send Dylan for more invasive tests, but because of this article, they were able to make a diagnosis without the additional tests.
Immediate surgery was scheduled to drain the hip of the infection, and clean it out.
I learned that "immediate" surgery isn't so immediate. Because he was thirsty, he drank some water early in the morning, before we ever thought surgery was a possibility, and the anesthesiologist wouldn't operate until the water was out of his system. What a long horrible wait. Dylan was absolutely suffering in pain. His fever reached over 104 at one point, and he was delirious and talking nonsense. It was brutal! Absolutely brutal! I could do absolutely nothing to relieve his suffering! I thought of the story of Joseph Smith when he was a boy, and the bone infection he had suffered through. No wonder his mom had to leave the room. I thought of our Heavenly Father having to watch his beloved son suffer in the garden and on the cross, and not extend his all-powerful hand to help him. That must have been tough! I couldn't help my child in his suffering, but if I could have, I would have. I am amazed at our Father for his restraint during the atonement.
They finally wheeled him in for surgery around 12:30 pm. We waited for about an hour and a half. That was rough. At least being put under, I knew he was having a bit of relief from the pain. Afterwards the doctor told me that when he made the incision, a bunch of pus just oozed out. He was pretty concerned and baffled at how an infection could get in there. They wheeled him up to a room upstairs. He was in and out of consciousness the rest of the evening. Dennis stayed the night with Dylan so I could get home and get some sleep. I had been up all night and was physically and emotionally exhausted.
I slept hard. This morning when I woke up I felt confident and hopeful, and after getting everything squared away at home went back to the hospital to see my kiddo. He seemed to be doing better - awake and alert. But as the day went on, he had bad spikes in his fever and severe pain. He was miserable, and I was miserable watching him! He didn't want to play with any toys - can't really, because he has to keep his IV arm straight or the machine will beep, and because of his hip, he can't sit up very far in bed. Toys, coloring, anything like that is out. He doesn't feel much like watching TV. And the medicine is giving him a stomach ache, so he doesn't want to eat any of the goodies people have brought him. He says things like, "Sometimes I don't think I am so lucky," or "I think the Living Desert would have been more fun than this." Poor little man. So he just lays there, and sleeps sometimes, and winces and shivers a lot. And there is nothing I can do but touch his forehead and tell him I love him. What I want to do is climb into bed with him, and scoop him into my arms, and hold him.
That kid is amazing, though. With all the needles, pain, and humiliation he has never cried once during this whole ordeal. Not once. He had been so brave and cooperative, and despite his pain, has been very courteous and polite to everyone. When a little kid says thank you to a nurse that just shoved a needle in your arm it is enough to break a mom's heart.
So in the afternoon, the nurse comes in and announces that the culture came back. Dylan had MRSA. Surprise, surprise. Who would have thought? Oh.. Wait... I thought of that, didn't I? Yes, I'm pretty sure that is what I had be trying to tell doctors all along. But nobody listens to lowly mom, do they? Each time I see my kid grimace in pain, I really want to punch a certain doctor or two in the face. I could you know. I do have a brown belt. Or maybe a nice kick to the head. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.
OK, so I am not feeling very Christlike today. I've got some repenting to do, I suppose. I'll work on it.
I'll try some different happy thoughts. I'll think about all the great friends we have who have been so sweet to help, and send us messages of love and concern, and all the prayers. We are so grateful for the prayers, the meals, the rides, the visits and goodies for Dylan. I know he is grateful too.
Update: It is Wednesday. Dylan doesn't seem to be doing any better. Still pain, fever, miserable. He will be transferred to Loma Linda as soon as a bed becomes available - maybe tomorrow or Friday. It will be a pain for our family, but doable, and I will feel better knowing he is getting great pediatric care (Eisenhower has been very nice, but kind of geared to the geriatric, not pediatric, patient.) I just want to get things resolved.
First lesson learned (I know there will be many - that is God's tutoring process): Trust my mother's intuition. When I know something, I know it, and I will have to fight harder, scream louder, visit more doctors, etc. until someone listens to Dr. Mom. I really wish I had fought harder to get someone to listen to me before it came to this. Mother's intuition is very REAL, and the Lord gives it to us to bless our children and families. May the Lord bless my little Dylan.
