I started the day furious at my roommate and his alarm clock's seemingly endless cycles of SNOOZE. I have been getting up early for the past few weeks for work and today I didn't need to be up until about 6:45, so when the alarm starts to go off at 5:30 and continues to go off every ten minutes until 6am I tossed and turned and steamed until I quiet literally exploded out of bed, into the shower and out the door to the office.
Being about an hour and a half early for work I had plenty of time to browse through my Google Reader new feeds and sip coffee. Which is what I was doing when I came across this:
FIRST TRIP TO E.R
If you DIDN'T click on the link it is a picture of a little boy's head with four staples in it. Under the picture is the following:
First ER trip for the boy. 4 staples in his head. He was a trooper.
This, of course, took me back a few years to the time with my ex-girlfriend and her daughter. These were wonderful times overall and although things didn't work out the way I hoped I still have a wealth of happy memories from this time.
One of these memories, happy in retrospect but scary at the time, was of our own trip to the ER.
The kid, Faye, was playing with my sisters on my Mom's couch. Everyone was gathered around the kitchen/living room having conversation. If I remember correctly my Mom was washing dishes with my ex, Ali. The sister were entertaining the little one on the couch and I think I was sitting across from them watching TV.
Like most accidents involving kids no one was prepared for the sudden shift in mood as Faye went from happily bouncing on the couch (which was far to close to the edge of the kitchen counter for an accident NOT to occur). to slamming her head back into the counter, to crying before any of us realized what happened.
Immediately she wailed for her mommy. Ali ran around to the kid and scooped her up. Held her close and motioned with her eyes for me to take a look at the damage.
I moved in to examine even as my own Mom was grabbing towels and ice, while my sisters sat shocked on either end of the couch. The wound looked worse than it actually was, which I've found to be true of most head wounds.
The back of her head had struck the counter splitting the skin open and bleeding like hell, which looked all the worse as it matted Faye's platinum blonde hair. Alison was looking at the wound as well when my Mom came over and put the wadded kitchen towel on it and said to Ali, "Keep pressure until you get to the hospital."
At that point I was already heading for the door. The kid, who only moments ago had been laughing and carefree sniffled the entire ride, sounding not in pain so much as in shock that her fun-time could end so abruptly painful.
This has always been the worst part of seeing a kid get hurt for me. That moment right before it happens when it seems like they feel invincible to the world, not yet mindful of how delicate their own bodies can be.
So we arrived at the ER and fill out forms and wait around for so long that Faye actually cycles through the pain back into happy kid mode and we have to keep her calm and on Ali's lap so as not to aggravate the wound.
Finally a nurse calls us into a room and asks a million questions in that annoying, disaffected, I-have-seen-it-all-voice that I feel is laced with contempt and lacking any empathy, something crucial to good bedside manner. As Ali describes what happened the nurse roughly pulls the kitchen towels away and moves the bloody blonde hairs to get a good look. Faye begins to cry again.
The nurse mumbles somethings about not needing stitches and reaches into a drawer pulling out a staple gun. If you've ever seen one of these things you know there is no exaggeration in that description. It is literally the same size and shape as the office supply. The only difference is that is seems to be made of a white plastic instead of the metal most staple guns are made of.
The nurse tells Alison to hold Faye close and moves in with the gun.
Mother and daughter cling to each other as the impassive nurse puts three staples into the back of the three-year-old's head: CLIP! CLIP! CLIP!
It's over. The nurse gives us a bill and some printed instructions. Says to wash the blood out with water but no soap and then to leave it alone for a few days. She gives Faye a sticker or a lollipop or something and walks out.
I don't think the kid even knew what hit her. Alison was shaken.
I would have been more rocked by the whole event had i not lived through similar situations with my younger sisters. They had both had mishaps at home as little girls and needed to take a trip to the ER for a stitch or twelve.
Not sure why I felt the need to tell this story now but there you go. Still think about both those girls (Ali and Faye) but now only with a misty fondness that can be best compared to that feeling of regret you have when you wake up from a really awesome dream; It was a wonderful, sometimes heartbreaking, time but not something you could ever recreate or get back to no matter how hard you might try.
Anyway, first time parents, the moral of the story is: injuries tend to hurt and scar parents more than the children they've happened to. Don't panic. React but be calm.
Also maybe just keep a staple gun handy and save yourself the ER trip.
KIDDING!
:)
