At some point in having boys, I knew my life would lead me to the hospital/emergency room. It was inevitable, especially with how laid back I am and how active my boys are. I was prepared. But, when the moment presents itself, you just really still stand there in shock wondering what to do first.
This morning was just that day. Kendrick rolled into my bedroom at about 7:00 already asking for his cousins, the Chaneys who were to come visit today and then a breakfast request followed closely behind. In my pj's, I got him started on a sippy cup of milk and his favorite cereal bar, but he has a hard time staying in his chair or in this case, stool at the bar. He is up and down constantly. I began unloading the dishwasher and getting things ready for the day. Cavett came in and joined Kendrick for breakfast. At some point while I was at the sink, Kendrick tried to crawl back onto his stool, but instead fell down and pulled it over on top of his foot.
I threw on a swim suit-cover-up dress and pulled my sunglasses out of my purse to use as a head band for my greasy hair. We went to his office to X-ray it while we waited for the pediatrician's office to open at 8:30. While I waited in the car with both kids, I posted a pic on Facebook asking "what would you do--pediatrician or ER?" Well, the pediatrician was stacked up and they referred us to a podiatrist nearby. Our appointment was to be at 10. Kendrick still hadn't calmed down or stopped crying. I ran home, grabbed the Tylenol with codine leftover from Kendrick's last ear infection 2 weeks ago, a puzzle for Cavett and a real headband for me. We run back to Dad's office for Cavett to hang out and then find the podiatrist office in the Medical Building attached to Presbyterian Hospital Allen. (That's a blood blister on the bottom of his big toe!)
I fill out the obligatory paperwork while holding a child clutching his baby blanket in only a diaper and a T-shirt with a "bloody flesh wound" of a foot while getting looks from at least 5 other people in the tiny waiting home. I'm thinking, "I should have gone with my instincts and just gone to the ER to begin with." Finally, we are called back and the nurse begins to clean it by just pouring a saline solution over it to get the residual blood off to see what we are dealing with. We take more X-rays and go back to the room. She offers him animal cookies while we wait, but I tell her I had a snack in my purse and I give him the rest of the cereal bar and a Capri Sun Water. Bad idea.
About 40 minutes later, the very sweet, kind, smart, and thorough doctor comes into look, takes me to see enlarged X-rays and decides we need to go to the OR to be able to better see what we are dealing with. She was concerned with the "dirty nailbed" and having a laceration infecting the bone. Deadly combo. She also didn't want to traumatize him into thinking doctors were bad for the rest of his life. I agreed. At this point I change my mind about the ER, glad that I went with someone who took the time to care about my child's emotions as well as wounds.
She gently taped it up and we waited for nearly an hour watching Sesame Street while she made the preparations and secured the anesthesiologist. We then moved to the registration/cashier desk of the hospital to a very kind woman who had deep sympathy for our extraordinary deductible amount. From there we went upstairs for a re-op visit and met our nurse.