All About MRSA

I have learned so much about Methicillin-Resistant Staphylococcus Aureus this week, I'd thought I'd share my story first, then the information.

My BBE (Best Baby Ever) woke up Monday morning with a large red lump on his thigh. There had been nothing wrong with him the night before except a small red mark that looked like I had fastened his diaper too tight. I had never seen anything like the lump on his leg before so I called the pediatrician's office and brought the baby in right away. The doctor was not overly concerned, said that it was cellulitis, and he drained the nasty looking lump. Dr. Amazing did take a swab to send off to the lab, just in case--he had a patient last year who ended up in the hospital because the infection had gotten worse. The pediatrician has always been great with telling us what was going on, which is usually nothing to worry about, and what to look for in a worst-case-scenario type of way. He prescribed an antibiotic to clear-up any lingering infection, and off we went.

Monday night, the BBE developed a fever and his leg, which had looked so much better after the doctor drained it, was back to looking swollen and red. After paging the doctor and talking to him, we agreed on a plan for the night. The baby's leg did not seem any worse for several hours, so we stayed at home. Tuesday morning, it was worse. I dashed off to the doctor's office right away, and as soon as two of the doctors in the practice consulted with each other, they told me the baby needed to be admitted to hospital. Thankfully they were able to secure a direct admission for us in order to avoid a whole Emergency Room ordeal. By 9:00 AM, I was filling out forms at the hospital.

I stayed with my poor little guy in isolation for three days. Tuesday afternoon, the lab confirmed that the infection was definatly Staph, but they wouldn't know for sure if it was MRSA for another 24 hours. Every precaution was taken as an IV antibiotic was given. The hardest part was when a surgical consult stopped in and told me that surgery was likely necessary to make sure the wound was completely drained. Surgery would require an OR and anesthesia--this was not a bedside procedure like the pediatrician had performed. I was told not to feed the baby after 4:00 AM the next morning in preparation for the operation.

There are not enough words on earth to describe the desperate prayers of a mother, as she is rocking her hungry child and he is gazing at her though his spikey lashes, his face soaked with tears.

The surgical team trooped in at 6:30 AM on Wednesday and seemed undecided. The attending physician was in surgery and was not able to come up until later. So, at 10:15 AM, I was finally given the OK to feed my frantic child even though surgical leader had not come back. By noon, we found out it was MRSA. Thankfully, the lab knew which antibiotic the bacteria was suseptible to, and my pediatrician had made the right call from the start. We had been using the correct medicine for 48 hours. Even though that was the case, the Anastesiologist came in around 7:00 PM to tell me that the surgical team had booked the OR for the morning and he was there to prepare me for what would be happening.

Afer he left, I prayed even harder. I was going to have to repeat the process of not-feeding once 4:00 AM came. And I was going to have the images of the anastesiologist's description to keep me company all night.

The army of people that came in Thursday morning were amazed by the improvement they saw. I cannot do their disbelief justice. I believe the combination of dozens of prayers, the Force, and our pediatrician's Amazing skill made it all possible. The surgical team leader checked-in with us around noon, was thrilled for us, and said she had no objections to us going home. It took a few hours to get cleared by all of the necessary doctors, but the baby was home by Thursday evening.

Throughout this whole ordeal, I had the same question and I asked it repeatedly. How did my 7 month old get MRSA? Here is the short answer: "dumb luck." I was told that same thing by more than one doctor, and even a few nurses (I did ask everyone).

The longer answer is this: over the past few years, there are a few strains of resistant Staph that
have colonized--people are carriers of it. MRSA can live on people's skin or in their bodies (nasal passages) without causing the host any infection or illness. These people may not even know they are MRSA carriers. But, for people with a limited immune response (ahem...babies), MRSA causes big problems. And because the wide use of antibiotics over the past three decades was almost unchecked--there have been countless numbers of inappropriate applications--the surviving Staph bacteria has grown stronger. MRSA is a perfect example of the Evolution of Human Disease. What didn't kill it made it stronger. Now we have to figure out how to live with it. Thankfully there are still a few medicines that can wipe out the infection before it causes permanant damage, or even death (as new germs and diseases are prone to do as they try to exist with their hosts).

The only recommendation the medical community can give is "wash your hands." And even that, as one doctor confided to me, is something used as encouragement to keep all germs at bay, rather than a confirmed preventative measure concerning MRSA. Any opening in the skin, from chapped, cracked skin or a bug bite up to an open cut/wound, presents microscopic MRSA the opportunity to move in. Even if you wash your hands, a carrier can come along and and pass on the bacteria. It's not something that is readily transmitted when it's an active infection since people are so cautious when MRSA is even suspected. We were in isolation before we even knew the Staph was Methicillian-Resistant. The thing is, we'll never know how this happened.

And honestly, I'm just happy to be home.

But I know I'll keep my eyes and ears open as more information about MRSA as it becomes available, and I will always have that desire to just know.

Until then, sweet sisters, wash your hands, moisturize your skin, and keep even your papercuts covered with a little bandage.

I'm going to go burn off the rest of my MacStewart-prone anxiety adrenaline now.