We saw lots of friends and family over the holidays and I was flattered to find out that there are at least 7 people out there who are disappointed by my lack of internet rambling. I may or may not make it my New Years resolution to be a better blogger. I’m really reaching for the stars.
I’ll start by officially telling the staples story.
We arrived, by car, to my parents’ house in Texas on December 19th. Blake had his adenoids removed in November, and I remember thinking on the day of our arrival that, since he’s been so healthy, this might be Blake’s first time to Texas that he doesn’t get sick! Woohoo! Anyways, it was dinnertime and I sat B up at the bar, next to my dad, to eat. Stu and I were still busy unloading the car and unpacking. You know how your mom always tells you not to rock your chair back on 2 legs? Blake did that with his bar chair. We get on him about it all the time at our house, but at our house he’s on tile, so when he pushes back, the chair doesn’t tip, it just slides back. My parents have carpet, so now B knows what all the fuss was about. Stu saw him falling back-in slow motion, he swears-from across the room. My dad was unaware of the excitement until the crash. Blake fell back and hit his head on the leg of the dining room table behind him. Stu got there a second too late. I heard his head hit from across the house, and then I saw Stuart running him back to our bedroom.
Side note. I’m not sure why, but anytime Blake seems seriously injured, Stu has to lay him out flat on a bed to assess the situation. Even if it means carrying him upstairs. Super funny.
Anyways, I didn’t know his head had hit. I honestly thought B had just fallen out of his chair and everyone was overreacting. Stu laid him out (on my mom’s beautiful bedding), then looks at his hands and says, “Why am I bleeding?!” Obviously, in our panic we were not making sense. We realized that it was Blake, and that he was really bleeding. My mom is going to need a new pillow.
I drove to the ER, which was 20 minutes away. I made it in about 13, but still. BTW, if you ever see a minivan, honking, with it’s hazards on, go ahead and safely assume it’s not someone rushing to a PTA meeting and MOVE. ugh.
Stu had the bleeding stopped by the time we got to the ER, which was such a relief. We have a friend that learned through some work training that people rarely put enough pressure on a wound to actually stop the bleeding. Especially with a head would, he said you should put as much pressure as you physically can. Thank goodnes Stu could stomach it. Unfortunately, since the bleeding was under control, they considered his case far less serious than if he had still been gushing. For those who appreciate The Gross Chronicles, here’s what it looked like for the 2 hours we waited for treatment:
If you don’t like my gorey pics, you’re probably pretty annoyed with me right now. Sorry Sam. When we finally got settled in for the wait and had a moment to reflect on the chaos, my dad cleared his throat and said, “Man, you really should’ve had someone sitting up at the bar with him.” There’s nothing like a good laugh to break the tension. Blake patiently sat in the waiting room with his gaping head, as long as my iphone was safely nestled in his hands for a game of Angry Birds. He can rarely get his hands on my phone, so he thinks hospitals are pretty cool. He’s asked to go back several times. They did a CAT scan, to ensure that there was no internal bleeding. His eyes got pretty big when they laid him down and put that crazy vest on him. Stu and I got vests too, and if only we had a video of the Mommy and Daddy Show that we put on in order to 1)keep him from freaking out and 2)keep him still so the test didn’t need to be repeated, it would be a youtube sensation, no doubt. He did stay calm for the test, and he remained still for a full 2 minutes (eternity in Little Boy Minutes)!
Then came the worst part. The doctor suggested staples, since he said stitches would require the head to be shaved and take far more time. As instructed, we wrapped my sweet boy up in a sheet like a burrito. It took 3 people to hold him down like that for the lidocaine shot, wound cleaning, and staples. Stu really steps up to the plate at moments like these, and we knew that he was the more capable parent when it came down to who could physically restrain him, yet comfort him at the same time. This left me to sit in the corner and cry, like a good Mom. My poor baby screamed with suprising intensity. In this picture, you can see his little red “freckles” that came out (burst blood vessels). Once it was over, he was my happy boy again:
What an awful picture. Since we’re discussing awful, here are the staples:
That night we had to moniter him for signs of concussion. He didn’t show any. A couple of doses of Tylenol the next day, and he was like new. Amazing. He’s amazing. We taught him to tell people, “check out my awesome staples”. Yesterday, we went to his pediatrician to have them removed. Obviously, I was dreading this.
Easy. Peasy. She was fast, he cried for a quick moment, and then we drowned his troubles with a lemonade and Chick-fil-a chicken sandwich. I’m so happy to tell you that that’s the end of this ER story. I hope this is the end of an era.