Fun for all ages, this one. Last Thursday I was doing my usual shift at the shelter and got bitten on my right ring finger by a fat cat who was wedged underneath a shelf. No biggie, right? I just slapped on a band-aid and went on with my life. Well, I got home that night and as soon as I removed the bandage the finger started to swell. Pretty soon I had a red, throbbing sausage attached to my hand. Now, I know infections from cat bites are the nastiest thing next to infections from human bites. So, did I go to the ER? Oh heck no. I think there was a Wild game on or something, and I didn't want to go out. So I wake up Friday morning and it still looks awful, so I call the clinic to get an appointment and called my English prof. to tell him I wouldn't be in class. When I did get to the clinic I got a bunch of disapproving looks because I didn't take care of this as soon as it happened. Anyway, my NP looked at it and then called in the Internal Medicine MD that was there. He told me to get a dog because they tear when they bite so they don't usually get infected. Other than that, I got mega-antibiotics and instructions about soaking and going to the ER immediately if anything changed. I went back to the Dr. on Saturday and Monday mornings. Whee.
Anyhoo, the cat that bit me was a stray who hadn't had any shots from us yet. Super. So the cat had to go to the vet to be euthanized so samples of her brain could be sent to the U of M for testing. The rabies test came back negative, though, and everything looks peachy. At this point you can't tell that boo-boo from the four hundred other boo-boos I have because I'm a klutz. So that's the story of how I didn't get rabies. Exciting, right?