Ear Today, Gone Tomorrow...

Eldest son pierced his ear (again) last week. On Tuesday, his ear was red and painful.

"Hmmm. Looks infected," I said sympathetically. "Bathe it in Savlon, take some paracetamol and I'll try to prise that stud out."
"Touch my ear and you die," he growled.

On Wednesday, the ear was more red, more swollen and throbbing nicely in time with his heartbeat.
"Hmmm. It's even more infected. I think you need antibiotics," I said with a sigh, and phoned the doctor.

Today, his ear was purple, twice the size that God intended it to be, and he was shaking like a heroin addict on Boxing Day - knee deep in cold-turkey.

"Hmmm. That's really infected," I said with a grimace. " That earring has to come out, son. Just let me - okay! okay! I'm backing off, nice and slowly... we'll have to go to Minor Injuries."

"Nope! Not happening! Nobody is touching my ear!"
"Hmmm..." I said thinking aloud. "I know! You can drive."
"Cool! Where are the keys? Let's go!"

Now I thought the NHS were short of funds. Apparently not; instead of giving the boy a stick to bite, they plugged him into the gas and air. He giggled while the nurse dug out the stud and squeezed the rivers of lumpy pus from the wound. I was pretty darned woozy at this point myself to be honest...

When they'd finished, he staggered off the hospital bed, hiccupped and giggled, "That was so cool; I'm completely wasted. Now, where are the car keys? I'm driving home."

Yeah, right.