7 Stitches Oughta Do It

Gary observed that if you add up our childrens' ages, it's nearly 10 years altogether. And in nearly a decade of little boy-hood, we'd never dealt with stitches. Pretty good record, so it was pretty much a given it would happen eventually. The poor streak-breaker was my tender-hearted baby Andrew.

My kids were at a friends' house while I was at a no-kids-allowed health assessment (which I did very well on, but failed to earn the rebate because my waist circumference is more than desirable). Right as I was getting in the car to go home she called and asked, "So, did they take your blood pressure yet?" She said it seemed like Andrew would need stitches, and since she seemed so calm I expected it to be borderline. When I arrived at their house everyone was indeed very calm, Andrew was laying on the counter eating Smarties. But when the wound was uncovered, my eyes popped open wide. Um, yep, if you can see the insides of his head, the kid is gonna need stitches.

So, what happened? Apparently Andrew was playing with a toy golf club at the top of the stairs, and somehow fell down the stairs and bashed his head on a bookshelf. My friend heard the fall and ran up to see if he was okay, but he was just lying face-down with his hands over his head. When she picked him up his hands were full of blood . . . uh, oh. I feel so bad she had to deal with our little inevitable emergency, and that the baby-sitting duties were then extended for two hours . . .

We had a little totally-out-of-gas-while-the-baby-is-pulling-the-butterfly-bandages-off-his-dripping-head-wound drama, but once we arrived at the instacare they took care of us well. It was a sad time, as toddlers generally don't love being bound up, held down, and having their face covered, especially when they can feel a stranger sewing their forehead back together, but I got some really sweet snuggles afterward. The nurses that were holding him down (one being a pretty big guy) both remarked several times how strong Andrew is. Yeah, those 30+ pounds aren't just for looks, folks. Poor kid emerged from his bondage soaking wet, and wouldn't even accept a popsicle from the nurse. I was glad he still wanted to hug me, because it was pretty heart breaking to see him all terrified and screaming for me. Gary couldn't even stand the story, and bought him a new Diego coloring book to make him feel better. (It did. He sang "ego" for Gare.)

He was in pretty good spirits before the real fixing up began. The nurse put some numbing gel, gauze, and other stuff on his head right away, and with the hair and all the effect was actually pretty cute.

He ended up with 1 deep stitch and 6 on top. Pretty good gash for a little guy.

Gotta try a couple times to capture the damage. Yeah, he wasn't the most thrilled of kids at that moment.