This Mother’s Day, I got a bouquet of yellow flowers from Robert,
a purple vase from Josiah, and a trip to the Emergency Room for Grace.
After church, we came home for a light lunch with plans to go to Smokey Bones for an early supper. We had barely finished lunch when Grace fell. She apparently tripped in her flip-flops and fell against the bottom part of the fireplace, hitting her forehead on the vertical tile surface (As far as we know, she did not hit the edge). She ran to me, I scooped her up, and we sat with an ice pack that one of the boys had immediately brought for her. I knew she was bleeding and checked to see how bad it was; it was a deep gash. We quickly headed to the ER…
And Grace was no longer crying but was pale and quiet. She stopped bleeding by the time we got to the ER, which was really good considering that she did not want the ice pack on. (Note to self: Have plenty of clean rags on hand to change out the ice pack cover. She was not freaked out at all by the blood, but absolutely despised the thought of having a bloody cloth on her…”Dirty!” Also, a small supply of gum would be handy.) She was, however, comforted with the leaves I picked for her outside the ER entrance. (She has a thing for leaves.)
We finally saw the triage nurse, whose presence somehow reenergized Grace to the point where she was her chatty self again. Her color came back, and her temperature (which was below normal when the triage nurse took it) came back up to normal. The triage nurse assured us we were on the “Fast Track” since Grace had a gaping wound.
“Fast Track” stills means waiting a total of four hours.
Once we got in a room, the nurse asked Grace why she was there. Grace, being her chatty self again, told her she had a boo boo on her forehead, “but it’s all bettah now” since it wasn’t hurting. The nurse looked at it, said, “That’s pretty deep--She’s definitely going to need stitches,” and set up the suture kit for the nurse practitioner. (Waiting.) The nurse practitioner came in, looked at Grace’s forehead, and said, “Maybe we can glue it. I’ll go get the doctor.” (Waiting.) The doctor came in, looked at Grace’s forehead, gave orders for something that would numb the area as well as stop the bleeding, and said they could glue it. (Waiting for the numbing gel to be mixed.) The doctor put the numbing gel on with a soaked cotton ball, taped it in place, and we waited for the numbness. (Waiting…)
I have never been so glad in my entire life that a child knew how to play “I Spy.” And to sing the alphabet song. And to count. And to generally be easy to keep happy and entertained.
Grace eagerly awaiting the prospect of chewing the gum I promised she could have once we were told we could go home.
And I was also glad that the Arnold Swartzeneger movie was off in the waiting room and a considerably more tame movie was on in its place, since that’s where the boys were hanging out with
The first time the doctor came in to see Grace, he remarked, “She is a tigress. I can just tell.” Grace indignantly replied, “I not a tiger. Tigers are yellow, and I not yellow.” He laughed.
I believe she proved his point right there.
And he was going to find out how much tiger there was in that sweet little girl. It took the nurse practitioner holding her head, a nurse holding her legs and an arm, and me holding the arm closest to me to hold her down…and she still put up quite a good fight to get loose.
I saw a side of Grace I had never seen before. She was furious. She was full of rage. Her face was red and she was screaming at us with everything she had in her.
She was like a tiny red Hulk dressed in pink.
She would have given Jack-Jack a run for his money.
She continuously yelled at us, “LET! ME! GO! EVERYBODY LET GO OF ME! I WANT YOU TO GO AWAY!”
She pulled my hair (I was so close and she couldn’t move, so it didn’t hurt). She pulled my shirt. She pulled the nurse’s shirt. And she loudly announced each of these moves with her hoarse voice.
But, really, I think I could handle the raging Grace getting stitches much better than I could have handled a sobbing Grace getting stitches.
Once the doctor put in the subcutaneous sutures, he said that she was bleeding too much (with all of her screaming and all of the blood rushing to her head) for the glue to be an option. So he finished up with the outer sutures while Grace continued to yell at us and thrash around with three adults holding her. She was a tired, sweaty mess when it was all over. She was upset that “the nurse took off my flip-flops.” (They had fallen to the floor during the suturing scuffle.) She was disgusted by the little bit of blood on the sheet of the exam table. And she was more than ready to leave.
Since Grace was doing so well, we decided to try going to Smokey Bones for supper, even though we would be hitting the evening rush at 6:00 p.m. We waited only 30 minutes, and Grace ate heartily. She ate a good bit of BBQ and broccoli, and ate nearly as many onion rings as I did.
Today, Grace is still pain-free and doing very well. I have been overly protective with her but her injury hasn’t slowed her down one bit.
Running in the back yard, helping Josiah water flowers.We changed her bandage tonight and she was fascinated with the Steri-Strips (since she can’t see the sutures). Earlier today, she said “Dis is not a big boo boo,” and she still maintains that. I asked her what a big boo boo would be, and she said that it would be big if it were on her knee. She’s a tough kid! And I'm so thankful that it all ended as well as it did--she is pain-free, unbothered by the wound's presence, and is satisfied that "the doctor fixed me up!"
So, how was your Mother’s Day? I need to hear some good stories!