Have you ever noticed that the infirmities of some families are remarkably consistent?
For example, one of my favorite bloggers, Twobusy, is often talking about his children vomiting. Sometimes they vomit in the car, sometimes it's in bed. Occasionally they even puke in the toilet. Twobusy himself even vomited in a McDonalds parking lot.
In my family we seem to have more than our fair share of pus.
My children are prone to sty's and to abscesses. Pretty much the head honchos of the pus family.
When Lily started complaining about wanting to take her earrings out I should have suspected that something was up. She is a child who is very sensitive to anything scratchy, poky, itchy, squeezy and otherwise annoying. I figured that she was just getting tired of having them in.
"Just wait another week Lily." I said. "Make sure they are fully healed".
Yesterday morning her complaints had reached a tenor that was impossible to ignore.
"Lily, if you take them out now they may close up. Is that okay with you? It's your decision." I said.
"Yes! Take them out!" She cried.
I took them out, noticed that one looked funky, but since we were on our way out I just slapped some antibiotic ointment on the holes and got on with the day.
Last night before bed I took another look at that funky ear and my stomach sank. It was bulging and filled with pus. It was about the size of a pea.
If there is one word that sets terror in the hearts of my children it is "drain". As in, "We must drain the pus."
We went through all of the stages of pus draining. First we acknowledged the pus. Then we talked about it. Then began the bargaining. I offered to let her do it. She wanted to wait another day. I suggested that I do it. She yelled at me. I offered ice cream if she let me do it. No deal. Finally negotiations broke down and I drained it myself.
Readers, it was not pretty. There was pus, then there was blood, then there was ice cream. There was crying and there were hugs and Lily Claire was brave and strong.