In Stitches, Part II

Last night we went to Splash!. It's this really cool swim center with a play pool, a water slide, a lap pool, a warm kiddie pool, and a pool with rolling waves. We had a blast splashing and sliding and swimming and riding the inner tubes.

I turned from giving middle gent a five-minutes-until-we-leave warning to see loving husband waving and pointing, and eight-year-old gent walking toward me crying and dripping blood from his chin. He'd been falling off his inner tube on purpose, got pushed down by a wave and landed hard at the bottom of the pool, right on his chin. This after having dived too deep under a wave and landing on his nose at the beginning of the swim, then landing on his forehead mid-way through the session leaving him with a scrape and small cut. He's not a reckless guy, but he loves to swim and he plays hard.

Back to the cut on the chin. It figures: He fell right after both the urgent care and the after-hours clinic closed, on a weekend when our ER-doc neighbor is out of town. Just like his brother two years ago. Doctor Mom waffled. It's on his face, but not bleeding much. It's deeper than a scratch, but not very big. Didn't hurt much at all.

I called the on-call nurse. Like that's going to be any help. She can't see it. She recommended having it looked at because it's on his face. The deciding factor was the shape. If it had been a straight cut, I'd have slathered some Neosporin on it and used butterfly bandages. But it split in a crescent shape, like someone had jammed a thumbnail right into his chin. So to the brand-new ER we go.

Fine young gent suggested I bring our read-aloud, The Blue Fairy Book. Having a read-aloud in the emergency room for all of the waiting sure made the time pass quickly, but here's a tip: Stories like "Bluebeard" and "Trusty John", not good emergency room reading. There's blood practically dripping from the pages. And we're not faint-of-heart. Red-Riding Hood gets eaten. Sometimes the good guy dies of a broken heart or doesn't win. But "Trusty John" was so bloody that I summarized the end instead of reading it out loud. Bleah.

The stitches part was quick and easy. The doctor decided to put one stitch in, then added another once the actual stitching started. She and the nurse actually made the experience fun for our brave young gent. They admired his cowboy boots, laughed at his jokes, and voted him Bravest Patient of the Night. It was interesting: When youngest gent got his stitches, he had a male nurse and a male doctor. The process of getting stitches was very straightforward and business-like. This time, my fine young gent had a female nurse and female doctor. It was a very collaborative process, with suggestions and "What if we use the new....thingie, the squeeze one?" and "Do you think we could...?" Too small a sample to tell if it was a personality or a gender issue, but fun to see the contrast nonetheless.

And finally, a picture. Not too gruesome:

In Stitches, Part I (Levi's stitches) and Levi's stitches picture.