Last night started like every other Thursday night. With us at the Y. Kids in childwatch, Zach playing raquetball and me teaching 2 of my classes. I finished up teaching, got the kids then we went to watch Zach finish up. He went to the locker room to grab his stuff and we headed to the front door.
“Walking feet”, I say to my three turning a corner at the Y. The boys slowed but I hear a little girl’s feet still moving rapidly. I turn to tell her to slow down and she trips and falls face first into an end table.
I drop everything, seeing how hard she hit it.
In the 2 seconds it takes me to get to her there is blood EVERYWHERE and she’s screaming her little head off.
I grab her and cuddle her, the boys get a panicked look so I look at them and say, “Go get your sister some help.”
Trysten runs as fast as he can to the front desk (I can see the desk from where I am) and says,
“My sister needs help! Page my dad!”
I got all teary just seeing him jump into action.
By the time Zach came out of the locker room the lifeguard staff had come out with gloves, bandages and HAZMAT bags and a laundry guy came out with paper towels. Seeing the wound, I knew we’d have to go get stitches.
So off we went to the ER. I took a picture, wanting to document it (slightly ridiculous, I know) and I showed it to her. Zach thought it unwise but she turned out to be just like her mom and wanted to see it. Here it is:
She was pretty quiet so I was a bit nervous about a concussion. So after much discussion with the PA about NOT needing a plastic surgeon to take a look at her (dude’s dig scars, right?) they put some numbing stuff on her and we waited. Zach took the boys to Leslie’s house and grabbed some McDonald’s.
After a cheeseburger, fries and chocolate shake she perked up to her normal Doozie self.
Once it came time for the stitches they had to wrap her arms down tight with a blanket and then covered everything but one eye with sterile towels. She did so well the first 2 deep stitches and then the first 5 outside stitches. Didn’t cry, just watched us with her one eye. Then the last stitch she was just done and starting crying a bit.
The doctors said she did the best they’ve seen, which obviously they tell every parent, but I’m choosing to believe them. And alas, the final product.
In the end, she did so much better than I did. It is painful watching your children go through it. I’ve never wanted to switch places with someone so badly (except for maybe when Tariku broke his arm). I’m not sure how my heart can take a lifetime worth of this stuff!
And seriously, how is it that the princess is the first one with stitches in our family?