Charlotte had her followup from the infection of her pilonidal dimple in August earlier this week.
After the infection cleared, she wasn’t exhibiting any more problems either visually or verbally, so we asked if it would be okay if we waited until the flu vaccine was available to go back in (in addition to the fact that I was still crystalline with anger over the doctor’s attitude). It was fine. She was fine, is fine, will be fine. And the usual nurse practitioner who has seen her since she was six months old is still there, and thrilled at how much she’s thriving.
But there’s nothing that can be done about her dimple. No corrective surgery, no treatment. Nothing.
Because her dimple is just that – a dimple, albeit an incredibly deep one – it can only be treated with a wait and see approach. It doesn’t go through to her spinal cord (thank god), there’s no cyst to cause trouble, it’s just… there. A pretty little breeding ground for infection, with no way to treat it. It probably won’t present any problems until she’s in her late teens.
That’s one bitch of a probability, but it’s a hundred thousand times better than the alternative.
Until then, we wait and take care of it and try our damnedest to keep that little sucker clean and dry and uninfected.
A lot more has happened in life. A lot of it with me. But that will wait for another time. I have two weeks’ worth of writing prompts to make up.