Another ER Visit

Paul stepped on a toothpick yesterday afternoon. Boy, was he 'a howlin'. I tried to grab the protruding end with the tweezers, but I just couldn't get a good enough grip on it. It became obvious to me that a little local anesthetic and small slit would be necessary to get the darned thing out.

I took Paul to urgent care, but because he's a child, they weren't comfortable treating him, so they sent us to the ER. Not my first choice, or even my tenth. I briefly considered letting Paul's wound site become infected so that the toothpick would come out on it's own, but Paul couldn't walk, so I figured I'd just better bite the bullet and head to the hospital. Instead of heading home after work, Matt met us in the ER.

When we arrived, a sonogram was ordered to determine which way the toothpick had entered. I found this all to be rather silly. I thought a country doctor (or even my dentist dad) could have had the thing out by that point, but I didn't feel I had any other options considering we were already past normal working hours.

The radiologist viewed the sonogram and thought the wound was "very superficial" and could easily be remedied. I commented that it was becoming a mighty expensive sliver. I guess the radiologist felt the procedure would be a cinch, so he started right in. It turned out to be a bit more difficult than he thought. When he finally produced the illusive toothpick about ten minutes later, it measured an inch in length. Ouch! The radiologist, a former Marine doc, told Paul that he handled the whole thing better than any soldier he'd ever seen. I wasn't sure about the truth of that statement, but Paul was flattered and Mommy and Daddy were glad to get home to enjoy a late dinner.