This afternoon we went on a little outing to the emergency room.
It was Two’s turn to be the patient this time.
Last time we visited it was my turn – I challenged them with 2nd degree burns all down my 18 weeks pregnant belly. I can feel you shuddering across the psychic superhighway at the thought of that blistered, stretching skin, and yes it was excruciatingly painful, but rest assured it miraculously healed without trace and they gave me completely fantastic drugs – I was flying, I tell you. Flying.
The time before that Husband tested their diagnostic skills with a nasty case of viral meningitis which took both a CAT scan and amusingly (for me in terms of musical reference, but obviously not for him, medically) a spinal tap.
Two fell against the corner of our bedframe and cut his head open just between his eyebrows. He gushed forth a truly impressive amount of blood while rubbing his head and saying
“Red. Red. Sticky. I have lollipop now?” but, oddly, not really crying.
I was horrified and felt quite sick with shock, while Five scampered around whimpering with terror at all the bloodshed.
I rang 911, then hung up, uncertain if that was what I was supposed to do. Then I rang Husband who didn ‘t answer his phone. Then I couldn’t find the doctor’s number so I sat for a moment with Two on my lap trying to think clearly about what I should do next, all the while speaking to both children in a calm, almost sunny voice which totally belied the FRENZIED SCREECHING going on inside my brain.
The phone rang.
“911. You rang”
“Oh, hello, yes, well, my son fell and hit his head (why did I immediately feel like a child-abusing liar?) and it’s bleeding and I got a bit panicked and I didn’t know what to do but now it’s stopped but I’m still not sure what to do. I’m alone with two children under five”
I felt really, really stupid, like a blithering fusspot who is calling emergency services when I could perfectly well ring the doctor or just get in the car and drive somewhere. I’m not a victim. I’m not hurt, but I really did feel like crying and I wanted someone – an adult- to tell me what to do.
WAHH! MY BABY HAS A BOO BOO! I’M NOT REALLY A GROWNUP I’M JUST PRETENDING! I’M SCARED! HELP ME!
She was incredibly nice and asked me how old he was, was he awake, had he been unconscious (no), was he sleepy, how big was the cut etc? Then she asked if I could drive him to the E.R. myself or if I needed her to send an ambulance to come and get us. She was happy to send the ambulance out to check him over but if I could drive the ER would be better because there would be a doctor there and I might feel more comfortable with that.
So we went.
It was a little sad driving past the wing of the hospital where Two and Five had been born – it is no longer a birthing center and you can see that it is empty and folorn. But the ER was open and we were seen immediately by a team of wonderful, caring, kind people who were nice to all of us. Husband turned up almost as soon as we arrived and he took Five off into the waiting room to watch SpongeBobSquarePants so that Two could be attended to without distraction. We were offered the choice of glue or stitches. The stitches would involve an injection and needles, but would produce a better cosmetic result and as it was on his face (poor love) obviously we went for those, even though he wasn’t exactly going to love having them.
I stayed with him and rubbed his feet while the orderly held his hands down to stop him from batting the doctor as she sewed him up, but apart from a slight crumple of the face (heartbreakingly brave) he did not cry, he just lay there and let them help him.
He was a much better patient than either of his parents. Ahem.
However, as soon as he sat up he was very clear about his expectations.
“Lollipop?”
Yes. Lollipop.
A giant lollipop for my beautiful, brave, funny, charming son.
A bouquet of thanks to the kind 911 lady.
A magnum of gratitude for the caring and competent ER staff
And I think I’ll bake that Pigglecake tomorrow. We all deserve a slice.
{ 15 comments }
Oh how scary for all of you! Bravo to you for maintaining your presence of mind, and bravo to Two for his bravery (and savvy sugar-negotiating skills).
We went through an almost identical situation when B was that age. He tripped and fell face-forward right onto a Lego brick, producing a lovely L-shaped wound. He too had to be restrained during stitches, to much less dignified effect. May I just say that had you been in Stepford at that time, you would have heard the screams all the way from Burbank.
Celebratory pigglecake a superb idea!
I hope that pigglecake has lots of chocolate on it – your brave boy certainly deserves it.
Mr Man cut his head when at pre-school a couple of years ago and likewise was taken to hospital A & E by the nursery manager and her deputy to have the wound glued together (it was at the back of his head).
Other Half turned up shortly after to take over whilst I – heavily pregnant with no.3 – was in the office trying to get any info possible as to the situation and an update on developments (the phone had rung about 10 mins after arriving at my desk).
Guess what he remembers most? Yup, the ambulance ride, which was “Great fun Mummy!”. You might just have missed a trick there.
Glad he is ok.
LCM x
Oh lordy! Thank goodness he was ok. You describe it so well. A similar thing happened to Dylan when he fell against the metal seat frame when we were on a train. I remember the utter helplessness I felt looking at where his forehead had been torn open. (Yes, and I had to hold back the tears t00) The train guard radioed to find out if there was a doctor on board and we got off at the next stop to visit the hospital to get stitches put in. Your post brought it all back. Shudder. You can hardly see the scar now, and I think once he has man eyebrows it will be lost in the thicket! Hugs.
Oh you poor thing. I know just how you feel – had two trips to A&E in the space of a month earlier this year (both when husband was away working). I felt sick both times and wanted to collapse in a blubbering mess (almost did), but when you’ve got no choice but to hold it together, you do. Well done for coping so well. And yes – both of mine had head wounds too – so I know just how much they bleed. Very, very scary. Two deserves his lolipop and pigglecake every day for the next month. And so do you x
Lots and lots of Pigglecake. I am on first name terms I fear with the emergency staff. Perk of being a mum of boys I am told!! Luckly we have only had glue, as all our wounds have been in not so obvious places. Wait till you start on the broken bones and mine are only 3 and 4!!
Oof. Glad all is okay. I cut my chin open aged 2, trying to’ shave like Daddy’ with his razor. Scar has completely gone. LLGxx
Glad he was so brave. I didn’t realise that stitches were a better ‘cosmetic’ fix than glue. You would’ve thought it would be the other way round wouldn’t you?
Glad all was fine. You were right to go for stitches; Littleboy 2 fell over in Norway last year, we didn’t take him to the ER (as the nearest hospital was half a day’s drive away), patched it up ourselves, and now he has a scar.
I think I’m falling in love with Two.
Head wounds bleed, big time. That makes even little things seem really scary.
With four rambunctious boys, we spent our entire life in the ER–we knew the ER staff by name, and they knew exactly which boy was injured, even if they were all covered in ketchup.
Glad everything worked out okay.
Oh poor little guy. And poor you. Worse for you, I think.
Oh my poor little boy. Do love that he has priorities in order though.
Was with great friend when her son had to have a cyst taken off above his eye at age 2. He came out of the drug haze to find both my friend and me crying uncontrollably. So you, my love, get a gold star for your bravery and the sweet one should get his cake and copious lolly pops. xxx
Poor sweet two, and poor you. Hope everyone is recovering, heads bleed quite terrifyingly. Two sounds so adorable!
a brave boy. a lollipop for him and some more sweets for you. x
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