Stupidity, ignorance and too much self-confidence
Why even the smallest scratch or bite requires medical attention
YEARS AGO, I promised you readers that I’d tell you about any stupid thing I did while taking care of my animals.
If I remember correctly, at that time, I wanted to remind people that when you’re cleaning a fish tank, don’t pull the electric plug out of the socket when your hands are wet, the way I did.
Luckily, the electric shock wasn’t strong, my fingers survived, and I learned my lesson. Today, I use those special extensions that have on and off switches, so that I never have to pull the plug itself.
Perhaps I wasn’t stupid, just not paying enough attention to what I was doing.
Through the years, I’ve done other stupid things, but now I’ve really done something that’s up there on the stupidity scale.
It begins with wild child Menohra, a half-grown cat who’s decided to fight two of the strongest boys in my cat-herd. Her attacks on eight-kilo Phantom have not been very successful, but much to her delight, Yoyo has turned into a suitable target.
Yoyo will fight any cat anywhere, but when Menohra attacks him, he won’t respond. He won’t hurt kittens, even though Menohra’s attacks have been growing increasingly aggressive.
A few days ago, when I saw Menohra getting ready to attack Yoyo in the patio, I simply leaned over to pick her up to remove her and give Yoyo some peace.
I can pick up any of my cats, even in the middle of a fight – at a certain point. Alas. When I tried to pick up Menohra, that point was already past. She felt my hands, decided I was Yoyo and yelled the feline equivalent of “Kill! Kill! Kill!”
She then clawed my left hand, leaving three little wounds, before she ran off. I pressed the wounds to make the blood flow and remove any dirt her claws had left inside. Then I washed my hand with an antibiotic soap, used an antiseptic spray and hoped not much damage had been done.
By the next day, the wounds had almost healed. I thought, “Well. Everything’s okay.”
I couldn’t open or close my hand, though, a sign that should have warned me I was in trouble.
By the third day, the hand had begun to swell, just a little bit at first. By the late afternoon, it had ballooned to nearly twice its size.
I still refused to worry, that is, until a friend dropped by and stared at my hand in horror. “Laurie,” she tried to joke. “Perhaps you used too much Botox.”
She’s also a vet and knows massive infections when she sees them. “Go to a doctor,” she said seriously.
At the hospital the next day, the nurses stared at my hand. “Why did you wait so long?” they said.
To my mind, I really hadn’t waited so long. To their mind, I should have gone to a doctor as soon as I saw the swelling.
The doctor wasn’t as direct as the nurses, but he did say that the wounds on the skin weren’t infected, but under the swelling, an infection probably lurked, and it was growing.
The doctor prescribed an antibiotic to be immediately administered into my vein through a drip. I’m also taking antibiotic pills at home.
I’m happy to say that after nearly a week, the swelling has almost disappeared, although I still can’t close my hand.
It will take a long time to heal, I think.
I already knew that cat bites and scratches are extremely infectious, worse than anything from a dog, but I was so sure the wound was nothing to worry about.
Perhaps I wasn’t stupid, just too confident in myself.
