Grant's Quest to become a Unicorn

I give you, Grant. The human, I don't know what, accident? That sounds awful. But here is what he did late yesterday afternoon. Apparently he was scaling the railing (rhyme much?) on the porch and then decided to climb on top of it and climb on the small stone lip that runs along the house, just under the window. I think he had just made it to the lip when he fell on his face. Literally. Though flat face probably would have included teeth. He fell on his head. I think if he had broken his nose, it would have been bleeding. And I didn't discover his unicorn horn until I after I had cleaned up his nose & was just playing with his hair. Geez. This kid. I kept an eye on him after he perked up. No concussion or anything.

Here he is this morning. Looking a lot better. He was worried that he would 'always' have a bump. I told him it would get smaller & eventually disappear.

"Tomorrow? Will it disappear tomorrow?" Grant pleaded.

No, Grant. Not tomorrow, but soon. Then once everything looks right again, you'll do something else. You and Murphy's Law are BFFs.

What a pain

Ah, Grant. What am I going to do with you? It's still a fact; all of the posts associated with the "injuries" label also include Grant. And vice versa. So, on the first day of NaBloPoMo, Grant decides to take a header into the gravel road at Grandma's. Here, take a look. *warning* they are not for the weak of stomach. I can handle pretty much any injury that comes my way. (with Grant, it's a prerequisite!) But mouth injuries, I'm not so good.



The kids were all running out to Grandma's mailbox. Or should I say, what's left of it. It was a casualty of Halloween. Some jerks (they don't know who) completely trashed it. Ripped the mailbox part off the top, bent the steel post anchoring it in the ground. It wasn't some random baseball smash job. Or maybe it was, I'm no expert on mailbox vandalism. So they're all running out and Grant simply trips, but trips hard. No hands out in front to catch him. (probably running with his hands in his pockets. He likes to do that lately) We're thinking his mouth hit first because that's where the most damage is. His front tooth is pointing inward now and, well, you can see the rest of the damage. I called a dentist friend and he said the ER wouldn't do anything, just bring him into the office in the morning. Great. I've also got to get a husband off to the airport by 11am.




Oh, and think about NaBloPoMo. Why? Well, I see it as a challenge. I haven't done it yet and I really want to try. So there. This was probably one of the biggest obstacles I'll face this month, still managing to blog and deal with a Grant injury, and it's only the first! Wait, no, I didn't type that. Great. I'm jinxed.

I can't walk . . .

Today as we were leaving the kid's school, Jacqueline took a nose dive right into the rough pavement. She skinned up the palms of her hands and basically took all the skin off her knees. She was a mess, inconsolable. Band-aids that I keep handy in the glove compartment helped a bit and the fruit snacks in my purse smoothed most of it over.

We get home and it's time to get out of the car.

"I can't walk!!" Jacqueline cried, gingerly stepping on the tiptoes of her left foot.

I carried her inside and put some toys by her on the floor. This is like having a 6 months old again. That didn't help much and soon she had to go to the bathroom.

"Mommy, carry me! I can't walk!" she wails from the front room.

We go and do the business and return to the toy pile. Not gonna work and I have cleaning to do. So I fold and turn on Dora in my room for her. She is happy as can be. Until she's hungry, or needs a drink or has to go to the bathroom. Seriously kid? She was a weeping, wailing mess until she fell asleep for a rare hour and a half nap. I thought she'd be over it once she woke up. Nope. Still singing the same song. So I packed everyone up and took them to a new park very near us that they've been begging to visit. Everyone starts piling out and Jacqueline is just crouching behind the front seat.

"Carry me, Mommy! I can't walk!"

The park doesn't last very long because since it is very new, there are no shade trees around and the equipment is HOT. 10 minutes later (really) I pack everyone back into the car, head to the grocery store for the manna from heaven produce and back home. Jacqueline looooves watermelon, so she was satiated for at least an hour; sucking on the rinds and slurping down slice after slice of juicy watermelon. She is content just coloring at the table until bedtime.

Bedtime. Can I say it again how wonderful it will be once the basement is done? Jacqueline does not want to share a room with Grant right now, so all girls are tripled up in one room. Jacqueline seems to think this is pretty cool and won't calm down at night. Combined with jumping on her trying to sleep sisters, she wanders out for a drink of water or to go to the bathroom for the 5th time. (because of all the water. It's a vicious cycle) But since she "can't walk" she hasn't come out all night! Can she just suffer from this "I can't walk" syndrome at night?

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. **

Two weeks later . . .

**Warning: Grant's Fingers Ahead**

Now, I'm not grossed out by his healing fingers. Some may not share the same opinion. The only time his injuries made my stomach churn was when it first happened. Spencer came running to me with Grant in his arms, holding out his smoking fingers. There was black, gooey plastic melted all over his fingers and in his wounds, and yeah, I just about lost it. That's when we knew it was time to call the doctor. It's surprising, I'm not that squeamish anymore. I remember when my sisters would throw up and I'd feel like heaving, too. I'd wonder, "How does my Mom do it? I couldn't scoop up barf and NOT lose my own cookies!" And needles, ugh, I could hardly look at one when someone else is getting poked. So naturally, when I'm pregnant, I need lots of shots. Rhogam, etc. Now, I just roll up the sleeve (or pull down the waistband) and take it! Bloodshed? I'm fine. Grant's bitten through his lip again? Wipe it up and give him a popsicle. My kids have done it all: stitches, casts, IVs, burns and bumps. I don't know if I've reached the point where I can give a shot to one of my kids, but I can at least look at the needle or blood and not feel faint.

This was supposed to be a complete collage. It is not. See the little blue, blank space in the corner? That's where the "healed" picture was supposed to go. I haven't been able to pin Grant down and get a non-blurry one yet. And if I don't post this, I never will. But, he has healed up nicely. He's got a wicked cool scar on his left index finger. It wraps around from top pad of his fingerprint down to around the front of his second knuckle. It looks very Frankenstein-ish. The left thumb and right index finger & thumb have these little windy valleys on his fingerprints. And really, I don't think these scars will last past his teens. I got burned once on the underside of my arm when I was 7 or so. It was big, blistery, yuck. I had a scar about the size of a silver dollar. It turned silvery and when I'd get cold or in the pool, it would turn purple. Vividly so. Then, late teens came I noticed that it had gone away. Poof! So, we'll see what's left in 10 years. I did read somewhere that women are more attracted to men with scars. Rrrar.

Things I've learned

That nice fuzzy stuff on pipe cleaners turns into molten hot goo when electrocuted and then hardens into evil little hard patches.

That I am never going to buy pipe cleaners again. (at least while I have a child under 5)

That outlet protectors don’t work on curious 4 ½ year old boys.

That Grant is a resilient little boy.

We made it through the evening relatively well. No pain on Grant's part (alhamdul'allah) but he is not pleased with the "boxing gloves". We had to feed him, hold his cup for him and help him "do his business". Not pleased at all.

"Mommy, I can't touch my planes!"

He's crying this out to me as he comes running up, grasping his two favorite planes with his fingertips sticking out of the gauze wrappings.

"Oh, Grant! You have to keep that on!"

He is not having any of that. I re-wrapped the hands, drugged him with the codeine and put him to bed. We haven't heard a peep and hope it stays that way. Saturday Morning: I did some re-wrapping and this job is staying put. It's not easy making an active 4 1/2 year old NOT use his hands. His doting sisters have been very good to him; they fetch him his Spiderman, give him bites of waffle, scratch his nose and make puppet shows. Wow, how can I get some of this action? It sounds like a sweet deal!

What happens when . . .

. . . you stick a pipe cleaner in the electrical socket? Grant found out the hard way. We were spending a quiet afternoon at home today when the peace was broken by Grant screaming at the top of his lungs. I had been taking a nap when Spence came running in saying,

"Lydia, Grant burned himself!"

Oh great. This is the boy that doesn't pass a week without shedding any blood. (Last Friday he bit through the corner of his lip.) I came out to assess and his fingers were black. There was a lot of confusion as to what happened, but Mairyn reconstructed the story as best we can tell. So, her and Grant are in the bedroom playing. Mairyn was up on the bunk bed ladder and Grant was sitting on the floor by the wall. He stuck a pipe cleaner in the wall socket, we don't think he got shocked, but the wire heated up, burned the fuzz, the wire burned his fingers and the fuzz melted to his fingers. He threw the wire and it melted through the curtain and into the carpet. The curtain flamed up, but was out by the time we got there. (we now have a nice, loopy 'S' burned there) I called the RMO (regional medical officer. say it with me: we love acronyms!) and they said to meet them at the Maadi Health Unit.

Fortunately for us, there is an ER docter here on TDY (temporary deployment, meaning he's just here for a month or so). He had dealt with burns before and handled everything beautifully. Grant was in a lot of pain, so they gave him a shot of morphine right in the rear end. He protested, kicked the nurse in the stomach and then about 7 minutes later, was VERY relaxed. Dr. Dave began by soaking his hands and then debriding the wounds, peeling off the plastic and extricating it from the burns. Grant was very calm throughout the process (thank you, morphine). The Dr. Dave wrapped both of his hands up like boxing gloves, loaded us up with gauze, tape, burn goop and codeine. Yay for codeine.

So now Grant is the proud owner of two hands wrapped up like boxing gloves. Also, he will have very unique fingerprints from now on. The wire burned into his flesh on both index fingers and thumbs. The wire curved around and left diagonal tracks on all of his finger pads. They are 2nd & 3rd degree burns, but insha'allah, he will be fine. We're just praying for no infection and a patient boy.