Posts Tagged ‘puncture wound’
Twelve Years
Have you ever heard of a granuloma?
gran•u•lo•ma | granyə’lōmə |
a mass of granulation tissue, typically produced in response to infection, inflammation, or the presence of a foreign substance.
Twelve years ago, this happened to me:
“…I started to get careless and impatient. I stepped right into the needle-sharp point of a wood thorn on one tree branch. It punctured the side of my knee and left me in a lot of pain. I checked more than once to make sure the tip hadn’t broken off in there. It didn’t look like it, but it sure hurt like something was still in there.” – Relative Something: Day Off, July 23, 2013
The site of the puncture became reddened and eventually purple. On occasion, I was able to drain some pus or clear fluid. My doctor looked at it once and decided it didn’t look concerning. After a while, it calmed down and just remained a purple dot on the side of my knee that I lived with, unconcerned. I would have guessed maybe five years had passed. Possibly seven.
A couple of weeks ago, the site began to swell up anew. It became hard to ignore, and I picked at it a bit. The top dead layer of skin over the site would flake off. When I picked at the skin recently, it opened up and released clear fluid again. I told myself I would give it closer attention when I next had an opportunity.
That opportunity was Sunday evening. After I’d done some squeezing around the area, I noticed a dark spot. I grabbed a pair of tweezers and prepared to see what I could accomplish.
This was the result:
For twelve years, that thorn was poked straight into the side of my knee so deep it was not visible. Apparently, my cells had walled it off to isolate it, and the situation became a standoff. I am lucky that it didn’t interfere with the knee joint and became easy to ignore. The only reason I figured out it had been in there for twelve years was because I knew I had written about it in this blog when it happened, and found the post by searching for the words “thorn” and “puncture.”
As I attempted to grip it with the tweezers, I worried it would be mushy and break apart, but it was completely solid and hard enough to be easily grasped.
At almost 2 cm long, I could barely believe my eyes as it exited my knee in one long, smooth pull. I’ve been feeling giddy over having it out ever since. It’s kind of funny to me that I had grown indifferent to the purple spot for more than a decade, but now feel so overjoyed to have the cause of that dot extracted. I’m curious as to why my body decided it was finally time to push it to the surface. Maybe it was just so deep it took this long to do.
None of that matters now. It’s out! And I am incredibly happy that it is.
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Slowly Convalescing
She is doing a fair job of allowing time and medication to heal her wounds, but Delilah can’t hide her sorry state of the wounded animal. We suspect the powerful pain killer is rendering her somewhat loopy and the antibiotic is definitely wreaking some disruption on her digestive system.
One of the puncture wounds continues to drain and the area of swelling is noticeable and changing colors daily.
We keep finding her squeezed into rather odd locations around the house and she stays curled up in each place for remarkably long spans of time. Cyndie found her curled up in barely enough space beside the toilet. She tends to push herself behind furniture.
Once we get her up and moving, she will go out for a brief walk and take care of bodily functions, so it is good to know she can still move normally if she puts her mind to it. She just doesn’t want to very much, and I don’t blame her.
Really, the best thing for her is to rest, and for the most part, that is exactly what she is doing.
There is no need for her to rush, so she is taking full advantage of our care. Time will ultimately be her best medicine.
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It’s Infected
Why did I disregard the training I received long ago, and not take serious action to treat the puncture wound I received on Monday evening? I mentioned in yesterday’s post that I had stepped into a wooden thorn protruding from the bark of a downed tree. It bothered me at work yesterday, and I complained to a coworker about it. She asked if I had done anything about it. I washed it when I took a shower. Other than that, no. I received the “typical man” reply.
After work yesterday, Cyndie and I dove into the chore of clearing the trees off the rise behind the barn where we will be creating a new driving lane. As I was stumbling through the tangle of downed limbs (again, wearing shorts instead of long pants) my legs were suffering new abuses. I, again, complained about the pain from Monday’s thorn. Cyndie asked if I had done anything to treat it.
“No, I didn’t probe the wound, rooting around in search of any leftover thorn fragment.” She offered to disinfect it for me.
As I stepped into the shower, I spotted the inflamed area around the tiny puncture hole.
I guess I should have given this more attention at the time of the incident, like I was trained to do.
If there is any leftover thorn in there, it’s turned to mush now. I did my wimpy, timid best to see if I could get a hold of anything with a tweezers, but to no avail. I resorted to pressing and squeezing around the wound to drain pus. We tried some Hydrogen peroxide, a little rubbing alcohol, and then, an antibiotic ointment.
Luckily, we are not so remote that I can’t just hop in the car and quickly arrive at an urgent care facility. But, that is not an excuse for being nonchalant about caring for wounds that are often considered insignificant. I know better. I intend to use this as a lesson to renew my diligence about giving every assault on my protective shell, proper attention, regardless the perceived seriousness.
Relative Something 