Remember when your mother used to tell you to stop jumping on the bed? She didn't say it to spoil your good fun or just to spite you. She said it for a very good reason which could be: stop jumping on the bed because you might fall off and break your neck or, stop jumping because you might just fall and hit your head on a very sharp-edged bedside table. Which is exactly what Dylan did on Sunday morning. Unfortunately, I wasn't there to scream "Stop jumping on the bed!" because he was in his grandpa's room, and grandpa lets him do mostly whatever he likes. So there he was jumping on the bed, my sister walks into the grandparents' room and as soon as he sees her, Dylan squeals with excitement causing him to slip and hit his head on a very sharpedeged wooden bedside table.
I was downstairs and heard a very loud bump and crash, then some loud crying ensue. He cried longer than usual (more than a minute) so I decided to go upstairs to investigate the scene of the accident. The scene had moved to the bathroom with my med student sister trying to adminster to the injury. There was quite a bit of blood which involved a half inch cut on the back of his head into which you could see what was inside his small head - a lot of stringy, red looking things. He had stopped crying by this time and the bleeding had subsided. But the gash looked rather abnormal, being that you could see inside his head. After some time tracking a quick care place that could take our insurance, we drove off in the car - sister, me, and frantic grandmother. It took an amazing 10 minutes from the time we arrived to check in to see the triage nurse and get ushered into the suture room. She wouldn't tell me if he did or didn't need sutures. The doctor would decide. The doctor asked Dylan some questions just to see if he was responding normallly (What's your name? Dylan. Is your shirt green? No, it's blue.) Then he explained that he needed to shave some hair so he could see better and decided if he needed stitches or some super glue. With the hair out of the way, the doctor decide the cut was superficial, although I could see a few layers of skin and some pus beginning to form and secrete out of the gash. He asked the nurse if they had that super glue, but she said that they no longer allowed it because some doctor in the past had glued some guy's eye shut. That was no great comfort, believe me. The doctor went with staples, and Dylan knew, boy did he know that something wicked this way comes. We tried to hold him down while in a sitting position, but it was not going to work despite distractions. So he had to lie down on his stomach while I held his hands down and the nurse vice gripped his head, but then he began kicking and twisting his entire body in addition to the screaming. The nurse had to call in burly guy to hold his legs down while the doctor made a second attempt. It felt like an enternity while the doctor tried to steady his hand to the moving head. During the interminable moment, I let out a chuckle, not because I'm a bad or insensitive mother. I laughed because I knew exactly what he felt. Dylan didn't really care that much about the pain - it comes it goes - but he was so angry at being held down that he spent all his strength and energy trying to escape the clutches of strangers making him do something he would rather not. His anger and frustration was so intense, he was ready to do anything to escape. He has determination and he is willing to fight. He wasn't going to take it lying down! Dylan tells me right after the ordeal that "I was stuck, Mama. They hurt me." I tried to comfort him but at the same time asked if he was still going to jump on beds. The answer was a positive, resounding "Yes!" So now, he's got two staples in the back of his head, but it won't deter him from jumping on beds.
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10:06 AM | |
