Endless Excitement

*Warning: Long post ahead*

With Grant, that is definitely a fact. He provides us with more heart-pounding, nerve wracking action than one could ever imagine.

So we're (we = Spencer & me) sitting peacefully in the living room just after dinner. I walked into the kid's room to see what they were up to. The girls were working on a play they are writing, Jacqueline is thinking she's helping and Grant is, of course, climbing on the windowsill.

"Get down from there, Grant. You're going to fall." I warned for the thousandth time.

He says ok and starts to jump down; only to slip on the blanket cape that is around his neck and fall backwards into the bedside table.

Said window sill and bedside table

"Owie, Mommy. Can I have a hug?"

"Sure, come on over, Grant."

I pull him into a hug and put my hand on the back of his head to see if he's got a goose egg. I'm feeling around a bit, just half-heartedly giving him condolences. (he does this all the time, why should this time be any different?) Then he lifts his head and I look at my hand. It is dripping with blood. Great. He sees the blood and starts freaking out. (and maybe I did, too. a little.) He can handle some hard knocks, but the second he sees the blood, it's all over. He doesn't like that.

I ran him into the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth on the way and lean him over the tub. Yep, a nice gash on the back of his head. And ew, it doesn't look like something I can fix with butterfly strips. I usually resort to the strips if I can. Yeah, usually. That's a skill I never thought I'd learn to perfect. Since Grant became mobile, I don't think my first aid skills have ever gotten rusty.

We found an InstaCare center and walked on in. The ladies just stared at me like, what do you want? I had to start the conversation, as if it wasn't obvious I needed assistance. You know, the bloody washrag on his head wasn't enough. They just shook their heads and said they couldn't treat him here. They "don't do" pediatrics. They said there was a night pediatric treatment place down the road a ways. Could you put that in writing for me? I'm a little busy here with my bleeding son. I stomped out of there and started punching coordinates into Gina (our GPS) There was a different Urgent Care center just .4 miles down the road. I had Spencer run in first to see if they would treat him. They did and we went in.

We were helped right away due to the bleeding status. The nurse (male, I might add) took his vitals and started setting up a stitches kit. He left and said the Dr. would be in to assess him. Let me tell you, this Dr. had all the bedside manner of a codfish. And Nurse Wimpy was no help either. Dr. Codfish said Grant would have to lay down on his stomach, Nurse Wimpy obliged, laid him down and turned Grant's head toward the Dr. with the cut facing the pillow. The cut was on the back of his head and to the right. Hey genius, the cut is facing the PILLOW! I moved him to the foot of the bed with his left cheek on the pillow and they both go, "Oh, that's a good idea!" You think? Dr. C tells us to hold on tight and starts injecting the numbing meds into the wound. Of course Grant does not like that and starts thrashing. I was holding down legs and buttocks, Spence was in charge of torso and arms, Nurse Wimpy earned his moniker by allowing the head to jerk wildly back and forth. Dr. C warns us that he can't do that while the needle is in and I just take Grant's head and neck and suggest that Nurse Wimpy take the lower limbs. Geez.

Dr. Codfish finishes injecting and then immediately starts in with the needle. Grant starts screaming and he just acts put off saying that it shouldn't hurt. "Um, shouldn't you check it to see if it's numb?" I ask. He assures me it is and ties off the first stitch. He re-threads and starts in on the second; not as much pain-related screaming, just the "hey-I-don't-like-this-get-me-out-of-here" kind. Then Dr. C says all done and starts cleaning up. Hey, waaaiiit a minute, only two? This is a good inch long, and there's still a gaping end to wrap up. He assures me that that's enough, kids heal fast, etc. I am not pleased. I urge him again that Grant is an active boy, keeping bandages on isn't easy, etc. But he doesn't seem concerned and wanders out saying he'll get me a list of symptoms to pay attention to and to take him to an emergency room if any of them arise. And he said exactly that. Nurse Wimpy takes some gauze and wraps it limply around Grant's head, turban style, reassuring me that the stitches will hold, he'll be fine, blah-de-blah blah. Five minutes later, Dr. Codfish comes in, hands me a stack of opened and formerly sterile pads, partially stained with betadine, and the info papers, saying that the symptoms are on there and to hand the discharge paper to the nurse on your way out. Really? Yes, really, that is all he told me. I'm not paraphrasing. Fortunately, I'm no slouch when it comes to First Aid (not to toot my own horn, but *toot*) and I am not worried.

We stopped at the first Walgreens Gina found and I purchased all necessary bandaging supplies, butterfly strips, and good boy prizes. By the time we reached home, the gauze was hanging down over Grant's eyes. I trimmed the hair around the stitches (nope, they didn't do that either) applied a butterfly, re-wrapped his head and gave him a dose of Tylenol. My momma didn't raise no dummy. She's an R.N. And a piano mover, so. (no, not really a piano mover. ;) He is back to his bouncy self and we go back in a week to get the stitches out.

I know this is a somber picture, but he just looks so cute.

** I was just labeling this post and realized that all the "injuries" labels refer to Grant. Yeah, they'll be naming hospital wings after this kid. **