While sitting at the dinner table, someone brought up maggots (I know! – but such is life with two boys of a certain age; disgusting subjects at dinner are the usual fare alongside the main course). Eldest quickly mentioned how skeeved he would be if a maggot were to touch him. Of course, I had to jump in with all of the medical uses for maggots, especially when used to treat decubitus ulcers or other poorly healing wounds. I casually discussed the role the maggots played in debriding the dead tissue and how most patients would likely consider maggot therapy rather than dismissing it out of hand, especially if faced with a potential amputation. I buttered a slice of bread as I chatted about how maggots stayed away from healthy flesh; concentrating on my broccoli, I failed to recognize how quiet my dinner companions had become. As I started in on the medical uses of leeches, I looked up from my plate to see three faces staring at me in horror. Mouths agape, eyes wide, silverware down; my family finally burst out as one: “That’s revolting!”
Er, yes, I guess some might view it as such. Apparently it’s time to brush up on my sense of acceptable dinner conversation, which has at this point been warped by too much discussion around the themes of farts, boogers, loogies and the occasion poop.