Queen of Wishful Thinking

"Chicks dig scars!"

  At least that's what my son said after the pain medication kicked in.  Oh God.

The guys talked me into TB having his first Swiss Army knife.  It's kind of a boyhood ritual, right?  He's been so good and responsible with it.  Mostly he uses the toothpick or the scissors or whittles a marshmallow stick from the willow tree. 

Today he was removing tape from a pencil.

I saw him doing it.  A tiny voice said, "Hmmm....that doesn't look right."  But I asked out loud what he was doing and decided it was fine.  A few moments later I hear, "CRAP!  I cut myself!"  Oh, it was ugly.  His left index finger was wide open and wouldn't stop bleeding.  I drove with my hazard lights on and sped ten miles over the speed limit...safely, I might add.

Thank God hospital is five minutes away.  We were in and out of Emergency in one hour.  It's true.  One full hour.  Five stitches and a few "Owwwwws" and two "Jesus Christ!!!"  He's only nine and normally the JC would have never crossed his mind.  I let it slide.  I mean, really.  How horrible is it to have a needle stuck right where it hurts and to be told that it'll make the pain go away?  It's downright awful.  Ontop of that, little guy has a high tolerance for pain and it still hurt to get sewed up.

I didn't care much for the bandage dude.  He had an attitude and didn't smile once and seemed agitated.  Maybe he was pulling a 24-hour day.  Anyway, TB is okay but the pain medication wore off and now it really bothers him.  Gave him two Bayer aspirin. 

I've never seen so much blood.

Okay, now this may gross you out but the floors were cleaned up when we got home.  I left Jack White, the dog, in the house.  We asked the doc if that was okay for the dog.  Ah, the things you think about when you're seeing your baby in pain.  I hated it but he was a real trouper.  I was a great Lamaze coach.  Hey, the method works for other reasons!

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