This past Saturday was the first in a very long time that we had absolutely nothing to do. I, however, did the one thing you never do on such an occasion, I talked about it. To wit, I announced it to the world at large right after breakfast. Then we went to brunch.
The rest of the day progressed slowly. The boys went to play next door. K went to do some grocery shopping. I laid down to try and overcome some annoying back pain. Then, it happened.
The door burst open. Feet came running upstairs. Breathless, C announced that M had fallen. I looked at him. He looked at me. Slowly, it dawned on him that he and M fall all the time and this was hardly news or cause for a breathless announcement. But, he knew the right button to push next. “There’s blood everywhere and he’s screaming for you!”
I don’t really remember what happened next. All I know is I was down stairs and outside. I may have jumped out the bedroom window.
So, the story is this. C and M were playing with the 15 year old next door. He is something of a hero to them, and was being a hero to me that day by playing with the boys. He and C decided to play some baseball. M decided to sit out and watch. They went into the neighbor’s backyard. M went up on the deck and found a chair to sit in. He scooted it back a bit and sat down. Apparently, he had scooted one leg of the edge of the deck, however, and when he sat, he and the chair went ass over teakettle. The result was a gash on the back of his head and a slightly traumatized brother.
Have I ever mentioned how M can scream when he needs to? Yeah. By the time I got outside, M had a small crowd around him which is where the problems began.
Our neighbors (at who’s house he had fallen) have two boys and have dealt with this before. They were cool and calm. Other neighbors, however, had panicked and already called 911 before I even got there. I was somewhat stunned and confused as to why you’d call 911, but had to admit that K had the car and couldn’t really think of any other way to get M to the hospital (okay, the amount of blood on his shirt may have shorted out my brain momentarily), like maybe all the neighbors with cars gathered around us.
So, along came the ambulance. They agreed that stitches would be necessary and we loaded up. I had somehow managed to remember to ask C to go get my phone and started trying to get a hold of K. I did, however, forget that I didn’t have my wallet or any form of identification. The EMT and I tried to keep M calm on the ride talking about how we were running red lights, etc. He was more concerned with why he was strapped down on the gurney.
We get to the hospital and we check in. I manage to get M’s birthday wrong and he corrects me and gives the triage nurse our phone number, thereby answering any concussion questions. The PA puts a lidocaine patch on and whispers to me that he is going to have to give M a shot in his head and the staple the cut shut. I did my best straight face, since M was watching, but I think he heard the conversation anyway.
The patch failed to numb M at all and he screamed bloody murder when the lidocaine was injected around the cut. The then stapling began. Apparently the numbness had kicked in, because M didn’t flinch nearly as much as I did as the first staple went in. In the end, it took 10 staples to close the cut and we were done.
So, the boys now have very similar ER stories. M was, of course, quick to point out that he had ridden in an ambulance and C has not. Thankfully, C has not risen to the challenge. K and I have new grey hairs, however.