I’m not sure what part of “straighten up your room before we leave for Scouts” included grabbing his brother by the arm and swinging him into the mini-Green Bay Packer’s helmet clamped on his bed’s foot board, but that’s what Fritz did.
I heard the howling, and knew it wasn’t good, but I waited. Even as I spied out of the corner of my little eye the two boys approaching me, I just didn’t want to turn around. And then they stood next to me, and I looked and saw what appeared to be a victim from some slasher film standing there, but, no, that was my seven year old.
Calmly I had him sit, and turn his head so that the blood wouldn’t get on the carpeting, even though I saw it pooling in his ear. Calmly I got a towel and had him hold it to the wound while I retrieved wet paper towels to try to clean up some of his ear…and neck…and hands. Calmly I thought how good it was that Bill wasn’t here, since he really doesn’t handle the sight of our injured children screaming in pain and bleeding profusely with as much detachment as I feel is necessary to be effective. Billy calmed down pretty quickly himself. If Mom’s not too upset, it must not be that bad, right?
Finally, I took a gander at the injury, and for the first time ever, decided that a trip to the ER was really warranted. Normally, I prefer a wait and see attitude on most illnesses and injuries. Let’s just take a few minutes to see if the bleeding stops or the leg still hurts or the arm is still dangling at that awkward right angle. But this one, no, I knew right away it needed something.
I tried to call Bill at his office, but he was off doing important things and out of cell phone coverage. I left a message on his cell phone voice mail anyway. I found a neighbor to watch the other kids, and headed for the hospital.
Bill showed up just before the doctor’s diagnosis. I was thankful to be able to leave to pickup the other kids and get them off to bed. Bill got to hang around for the ugly part – the treatment: five shots of Novocaine, and 5 STAPLES.
This excitement is killing me.
Reit This Way 
Poor kiddo! Poor Mom!
Ahh…the joys of raising boys. I have yet to experience staples with mine yet, but I have a feeling it may be in the future.I have one up on you though. My mom is a nurse (ER for over 25 years). She has saved me many a trip to the hospital.I’ll be praying for you.
Has Billy asked yet if he can keep his staples once they’re taken out? My soon-to-be seven year old proudly displays the pins removed from his wrist and elbow after the surgery due to what is known as “The Monkey Bar Incident.” Uh, yuck. “But they’re SO COOL, Mom!!!”
Yikes! Was it his head or his ear?
When my oldest gashed his head on the corner of a metal utilites stand outside (my son was moving very fast; that thing wasn’t), I could actually see the white of his skull. He, however, was oblivious–he was just happy to be watching a Timberwolves game while we waited for the ER doctor.You handled the situation very well, Michelle, as a good mommy of many ought to. It is always a challenge to be calm in the face of bloodshed!
It’s a gash on his head right at the top where his high-and-tight short hair meets his longer hair. He <>already<> has a scar on the back of his head (from what, I have no idea), now he’ll have two that he’ll proudly show to the world as long as he (and his parents) prefer the shaved head look.I’ll take some pictures when it’s no longer really gross.
I am guessing it is because you have a Green Bay Packers ANYTHING in your house! I mean, yuck! Now, if you were a Chicago Bears fan… none of this would have happened.
I was going to say the same thing as cris except that it’s not the vikes so too bad for you. Hmmm, I think you should show us a pic now, while it’s REALLY gross so we can show our kids what happens when…don’t you just love it when you are the example of what NOT to do?
Bravo for handling the incident so calmly.My last trip to the ER with my 4-year-old son (yes, sadly, with 3 small boys there have been several ER visits in the last 7 years) came after anaphylaxis that caused me to jab an EPI-PEN into his leg. So effective was that epinephrine that my boy complained to the doctors only of “how Mom stabbed him.” Well, Mom here did the stabbing because Dad was too chicken.I often wonder why women have historically been referred to as “the weaker sex.” Seems to me that strength comes in many different forms.
Sounds like that’s the same spot where Peter got his stitches several months. You probably know this but hydrogen peroxide works wonders on blood stains, even on the carpet. I hate carpet.
Oh no, poor guy. Hugs and prayers.
Not only were you calm, as the others have noted, but you managed to make the story quite a funny read!Lots of hugs and healing for your sweet boy!