About Me

My photo
I grew up in Small Town, Nebraska, feeling sheltered by the 'safety' of it all. When I moved to Big City, Nebraska, I felt like the world was my oyster. However, I soon felt like there was much more for me Out There... I moved to Chicago, thinking I was done with this 'little' state. It took living in a true big city to realize that Lincoln is just an oversized small town... and it's where I belong! I'm blessed to have a wonderful husband who understands me and all my oddities. My kids are young enough to still think I'm cool. Beyond that, who cares, right?

Thursday, October 02, 2008

My Poor Baby!

Jim left for Chicago Sunday evening... had this work thing going on all week. The girls and I figured we could tough it out, as long as we didn't mention the "D" word (Daddy) around Donovan.... So far, that's been going well..... Except.....

Monday evening, just after I'd put Donovan in his PJ's, he had an accident. I was downstairs, getting ready to bring up some laundry, so I didn't see it. But I sure heard it. SMACK! .... Waa-aaa-aaaahhh! I didn't run up the stairs, because so many times, I've done that and found it's been no big deal. But I did drop everything and head up quickly. The girls were just gathering around Donovan when I got to him, so I interceded and picked him up. (Alright, basically, I just about shoved them out of the way to get to him.) He was SCREAMING! I asked what happened, but the girls faces were both white with shock. Just then, I felt something dripping on my neck.

"Oh shoot!" (Of course, I imagine I probably didn't actually say "shoot", but that's how I WISH it had happened.) I took Donovan right to the counter by the sink in the kitchen, got a washcloth wet with cold water, and I started wiping at the right side of his head. It was COVERED in blood, trickling down behind his ear, etc. I couldn't tell where the cut was or how bad it was. I was shaking. Normally, I stay calm in crazy situations like this until the storm is over, but this one time, I knew it was potentially serious.

However, I realized pretty quickly that the more I freaked out, the more the girls would freak out. I sent the girls into the living room to sit quietly together and pray the "Hail Mary" over and over again. And I assessed the situation: Donovan was screaming, crying, moving his head away from the cold washcloth. So, OK, he's not catatonic... he probably won't have a concussion. That's good. So let's wipe the blood off and see how bad it is. I noticed Donovan was pointing up at the container of M&M's I have on our Baker's Rack, so I called Lindsay in to get some other M&M's from the freezer and put a handful in a dish for him. He didn't ever eat a single one, but he wouldn't let go of that dish, either. I sent Lindsay (and Josie, who had followed her and was now hugging Lindsay in sadness and fear) back into the living room to pray some more. I finally got his head cleaned up enough to see the cut.... it was pretty deep, but only an inch or maybe an inch and a half long.

I was still shaking, trying to figure out what to do. Who do I call? Where do I go? How did this happen? I called the girls in and asked them to get me the phone. They brought it over, and without taking it, I walked away. I went to the living room and said, "What happened, Lindsay?" She said, "I don't know, I didn't see it." So I said, "What happened, Josie?" And she said, "I think he was climbing on this chair, and he fell and hit this wall... right here." She pointed to the corner, where two walls meet. I went back into the kitchen and again asked someone to hand me the phone. I put it down, and I walked to the hallway. "Okay, girls, let's get your shoes on. We're going to the Emergency Room." They went to get their shoes on.

Then I stopped. What if it's not bad enough for stitches? The bleeding has pretty much stopped now. But, eww, that cut is pretty deep. It might bleed again in the night. Hmm.... Would I take him to LinCare? Or St. E's ER? Hmm.... Didn't we get a letter from LinCare saying that they don't take our insurance anymore? Wasn't the co-pay there horrendous last time anyway? And don't they close at 10pm? (It was about 8:50 at the time.) Who knows how long of a line there'll be. Better go to the ER, and skip the hassle of LinCare. But does he really NEED stitches?

"Somebody get me the phone, it's on the counter, over there." Again, the phone is brought to me. This time, I hit the speed dial for Henry & Lewis, the neighbor boys two doors down. I assumed their Dad or Mom would answer--I'd bought popcorn from them earlier that evening. Jerome answered, "Hello?" I stammered, "Hi, um, J- Je- , um, Jerome. This is Tracy. Um... Donovan hit... Donovan fell and hit his head. He's got a cut. Can I bring him over and have you... um... will you take a look at it and second... um, give me a second opinion... um. I just need to know if you think he needs stitches." Jerome said, "Tracy. Do you want me to come over there and have a look at him?" I nearly shouted, "Yes! That'd be great! That'd be awesome! Do you mind? Oh, thank you!"

I turned on the porch light and waited by the front door. All this time, I'm constantly trying to keep the cold washcloth (which has been rinsed out six or seven times) on Donovan's head, but he's having none of it. He's spilling M&M's all over the floor, but I don't care. Jerome steps up to the screen door and he opens it. "Hi, buddy, can I take a look at you?" he says to Donovan. Of course, Dono won't hold still, but Jerome is able to catch a glimpse of the cut. He winces. "Eewww, yeah, that's going to need to be sewn up. Do you want me to bring the girls over to our house? Or do you want me to stay with them?" I told him I really appreciated it, but the girls won't be calm or be able to sleep, etc., until they know Donovan's okay. I said I was taking them with me.

In fact, they helped keep ME calm. I obeyed the speed limit the whole way. Josie said she felt like she might barf or pass out, so I told her to put her feet up on the seat and put her head between her knees. I think Lindsay was praying in the backseat. Donovan, by this point, had calmed down and was looking over at Josie like, "What's YOUR problem?" It was actually kind of funny, but I couldn't really laugh just yet.

We got to St. E's, had no wait, got paperwork filled out, and they got us in a room. The nurse numbed up Donovan's head with this gel he just rubbed on the area. The doctor came in and looked at it, and he said he'd be back in about half an hour (when the numbing stuff had kicked in), and he'd put in a couple of staples. "STAPLES?!?" He looked at me like I was an idiot and calmly said, "They're faster." Oh, duh. Donovan's not going to sit still, even for that, but it'll be easier than trying to sew in a straight line...

So Donovan and I got to watch "Little Bill" on Noggin (kids' TV station) while we waited. The girls hung out in the waiting room.... that had been their choice, and I was kind of glad. However, they did try looking for me at one point, but Reception gave them the wrong room number and they went to an empty room. They went back to the waiting room. (I'm sure if they'd have REALLY needed me, they'd have known to ask around a little more persistently.) Soon, the doctor came in with two nurses, and the three of us held Donovan down while the doctor stapled his head twice. OUCH!!!

I asked if Donovan should have Tylenol or Ibuprofin, and the doctor ordered some Motrin to be given right there. Of course, it took the nurse so long to find some Children's Motrin and get the dosage right, that by the time he tried to administer it to Donovan, he (Dono) was OVER the whole thing... most of it got spit out. I think the nurse was over it, too.

Finally, Donovan and I were able to go out to the waiting room to gather the girls and head home. It was about 10:30 when we walked in the house. Donovan had fallen asleep in the car (the doctor had assured me not to worry about concussion--Donovan wasn't exhibiting any of the symptoms), but when I was getting him out of the car, I accidentally hit the "panic" button on my key fob and set off the alarm. HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! Donovan woke up and wrapped his arms and legs tightly around me as I tried to figure out which button to push to turn that off. Whew! So I had to rock with Donovan a bit after all, once we got upstairs, since the horn had woke him up. But he slept fine through the night, as did the girls. I didn't fall asleep for a long time--last time I checked the clock, it said 3:28.

Donovan's fine now, though. Once another day had passed and I washed the crusty blood, iodine and numbing gel off his head, he was as beautiful as ever! He'll get the staples out on Monday.