Sticks & Stones
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So it turns out that being a magnet for disaster is genetic. My poor baby.
I left her with my Mother-in-Law last night so I could get some housework and some schoolwork complete. I had finished up what I had to do and was in bed playing computer games and planning to do nothing for the rest of the night when the call came in.
MIL: “Don’t freak out! Hannah cut her eye and her lip. BUT SHE’S FINE..” (screams from my baby in the background.) “Her eye is bleeding everywhere, and her lip is all swollen. Can you come and look at it?”
Me: “What?! What happened?!”
MIL: “We were taking the dogs out, and she was throwing the stick to the dog, playing fetch…then she just fell on the stick. I DON’T THINK IT WENT IN HER EYE! But…..she’s cut it pretty bad. Please just come look at it.” (more screaming and yelling for Mommy from the distressed baby in the background)
I did close to 100 mph on the way there, the echo of her screams reverberating in my head. Sure enough, her eye was fine (which is why my Mother-in-Law is still alive this morning), but she had a really deep laceration just underneath that was bleeding pretty bad. Crap, this looked like it may need stitches. The pediatrician’s office was closed and there was no way I was gonna make it to the Minor Med before they closed, too. GREAT!! I really did not want to go to the ER. I tried to get the bleeding to stop. No use. Every time her cheek moved, the wound would open wide and blood would pour out. To the ER we sped.
When we got there, it was very clear that we were in for a loooooonnnng wait. The waiting room was full. Children were screaming and crying, coughing and sneezing, vomitting and gagging. SUPER, I thought! We are going to wait all night, they probably won’t be able to do anything for her because of how close it is to her eye, then she will die from swine flu next week because she still is not vaccinated! Let the Mommy Panic Attack commence.
I spent the first hour crammed in the corner, her tucked tightly in my lap, wiping away the steady stream of blood flowing from her face. Just don’t let her touch anything, I kept chanting in my head. The second hour, we had to move closer to the front…right in the midst of the cloud of disease. That’s when she decided she wanted out of my lap to run around and rub her hands all over everything that looked like it should have a biohazard label on it. EEK!!! By the third hour, she was crawling on her hands and knees on the floor. The fourth, she was starving so we just gave in and let her cram fistfuls of goldfish crackers in her mouth with her dirty little hands. By the fifth hour, she had licked the waiting room seat, eaten a few goldfish crackers off the floor, and found a piece of chewed bublegum to pick up. I was over it. Maybe if she caught swine flu, we would be seen faster. Her eye was still bleeding!
By the time we finally saw a doctor, I didn’t care if they sewed her whole face shut if it would just stop the bleeding and let us get out of this disgusting, disease-ridden hospital. It was midnight, I had to work the next morning, she was tired and starving, and I was really contemplating punching my Mother-in-Law in the face. At least that way, we would all match. Between me with my busted nose (yes, it’s still bruised) and Hannah with her lacerated eye, envisioning my Mother-in-Law with two black eyes or a busted jaw just seemed appropriate. Just then, the clerk walked in to collect our $150 co-pay. PERFECT. At this rate, I’d have to nix the thoughts of assault and bodily harm. There’s no way I’d be able to afford the hospital bill, bail AND a lawyer.
The doctor went back and forth about whether or not to stitch her up or just glue the skin together with an adhesive-type of stuff, called Dermabond. The thought of someone sticking a needle that close to my child’s eye made me want to pass out, and I’m a nurse. It sucks to be on the other side of the system. Thankfully, in the end, the Doc decided on Dermabond. They made me help hold her down and my Mother-in-Law, conveniently, high-tailed it out of there. It was all I could do not to break down in tears as Hannah screamed, “Mommy!!!”, over and over, wriggling from beneath my arms. I just knew if I started crying, it would make it even worse for her.
We tried to give her a popsicle afterword, but she was going to have no part of it. I cuddled her in my arms as her body convulsed in tears and sobs of betrayal. She kept saying, “Monster…”, and I knew she was referring to the doctor, the aide, and probably me. I started to cry silently.
It was one o’clock in the morning by the time we were discharged. There was no way I was getting up by five to go to work. I called to let them know. Then I stopped by Steak and Shake to grab some dinner and a milkshake for us to share. It was the least I could do. She wasn’t hungry though, and I couldn’t blame her. She was exhausted. By now it was nearly 2 AM. I watched her sleep for about thirty minutes before I was finally calm enough to go to bed.
I would rather have someone beat me in the face with a meat mallet than have to see that poor little baby feel a second’s worth of pain. The heart of a mommy is so vulnerable. God help me if anything ever happens to this child. I would never recover.
As for my Mother-in-Law (who feels worse than I do)…
Jan,
You’re a wonderful grandmother! There are not many people who I entrust with the care of my child. You are at the top of that short list. Accidents happen even with the best of intentions. Please don’t let her play with sticks anymore, or sharp pencils, scissors, knives, forks…even crayons can be dangerous. Maybe we should just put her in a bubble until she’s eighteen? I forgive you and so does Hannah. For now, I will not punch you in the face…at least, not until the hospital bill comes in or I get fired for missing too much work. Whichever comes first.
Love,
Brittney
