My toe hurts! It hurts so much that I want to scream!!! Two weeks ago, after going to bed, I pulled off a tiny piece of dry skin, from my toe. In the morning, I saw that it was quite a long piece, and that it had bled. Two days later, my toe was seriously infected. So I started to put a plaster on each morning. But it just made the infection worse and worse by the day, so that the entire big toe finally was red and sore to the touch. A week ago, I put on boots that I thought would press as little as possible on the poor toe, and then headed with four of my five boys to the hospital for “Sparky’s” yearly meeting with his doctor at Medicine. T. had taken the hours off work, so he could finally meet this frustrating doctor for the first time, after hearing me complaining about her for years.
After our conversation with the surgeon in February, I told myself over and over again: “She is a good doctor, very good!” The surgeon said that this doctor IS good even if she gives an impression of being absentminded and not having anything between her ears. We sat and waited for an HOUR before we got in. And no excuses from them!!!! She had a medical student with her. I wonder if he saw how frustrated I was? What did he know of the case? Because she must have some sort of alternative intelligence that I do not understand. We sat down and she brought up that there will not be any surgery. I did not understand whether she had read the notes from the meeting with the surgeon. But when she said “yes, the kidney is smaller yes?!”. Then I knew she had NOT read them since it is bigger, working less well and has thinned out on one side. Our conversation went like this: Me talking with words. She saying “hmmmmm”, “mmmmmm”, “yyyyyyyeeeeeeessssssss”, “hhhhhhmmmmm”. I talked to a woman in Church Sunday and she laughed when I repeated the conversation, but I fear I fail to see the humour. She comes in to the room, totally unprepared to see us, she doesn’t understand enough Swedish to understand when I tell her that his kidney has grown, she doesn’t understand why the surgery was cancelled, she sits and read the notes while we are there but comes to no decision of any kind, and the whole visit was a waste! Now he has an appointment for Mag 3 again in May and an Ultrasound, that the surgeon ordered, THEN his “Hmmm-doctor” is going to decide if she is going to take him off his medication, because he might be old enough to tell us that he has a urinary tract infection. She is going to phone me and I want to rip my hair already, since she will not understand me on the phone, and I will not understand her poor Eastern European Swedish. Of all doctors, why did they have to give us this one. I don’t care how smart she is, she has never proven it to me.
After we had left, we went to the shopping mall. Well, I did, while the others went to purchase things at the Army Surplus store. I walked around a bit, til my toe hurt too much. When we got home, the toe looked worse than ever. The next day, I saw why. Along the bottom of the nail, up beside the infection and on top of the nail, a long gigantic water blister had formed. I’ve never seen anything like it. Every day, I drench gauze with saline solution and tape it to my toe with surgical tape like the pharmacy, the pre-school teachers and our neighbour have told me to do, and every day it looks the same. It is so freezing cold here, and yet I have to wear one sandal since I can’t get a sock nor a shoe on. But I will NOT go to the clinic and be told what an idiot I was for pulling off skin. I KNOW one is not supposed to do it, but cut it off. I am not going to go there and be lectured, thank you!
Oh, Saturday my silent teenager became the screaming teenager and told me to get her a white tank top for her ballet outfit! Like I could walk anywhere with my toe! Yesterday, I had to do it, since I had to go for a developmental talk about “Kitty” anyway. The talk did not come off very well. “Kitty” does not want to do what they are supposed to do in class. So he goes to the lavatory and stays there for a LONG time. And he sits and puts out pens, ruler, you name it, in preparation for doing something, anything, but doesn’t start, until there is perhaps 15 minutes left, and then he gets angry because he hardly gets anywhere. He doesn’t seem to understand that he is the one causing himself to get behind. It’s more important to fuss. Even when it is fun things to do! No mentioning about putting him on medicine though. T. plans on putting him on a gluten-free diet this summer, to see if he is one of the 89 % that gets better from it. I must try everything! Medicine must be the last resort, not the first thing one runs to!!!