|Leo's shirt soaking in the sink upon returning from the ER.|
Our boy was engaging in a bit of pre-bedtime wild rumpus, and tripped and hit his head just behind the hairline, on a brass door hinge. It was an instant gusher, so much so that between the blood and the curls we couldn't see how big the cut itself actually was. Seymour had a dishtowel on Leo's noggin in an instant, which Leo unfortunately found even more distressing than the injury itself. As we then needed both a driver and a staunching assistant, the entire family abandoned our chicken dinner and rushed out the door to the hospital.
The ER visit was routine and uneventful. ER staff tends towards dry humor (my mom was an ER nurse for almost 30 years), so it was not surprising when the front desk greeting our blood-drenched boy with a matter-of-fact "Well, that doesn't look good," and marched him off to Triage. After that, Leo was mostly happy to watch videos on his iDevice, and get hugs and kisses when he remembered that he was injured and in a hospital. After a while, he even crawled onto a bed and asked for a blanket (it was his bed time, after all).
Once the medics were able to wash the blood out of Leo's hair and see the wound itself, it turned out to be a lentil-sized divot. No need for interventions besides a dollop of Polysporin. The attending doctor managed not to roll his eyes, but was obviously unimpressed -- sending us out the door with a reminder to keep it clean and that, yes, head wounds sure do bleed a lot.
Seymour and the girls mostly stayed in the waiting room while Leo and I were in the exam room. Apparently a local Sheriff was waiting as well, which gave Mali the opportunity to whip out her best Dale Carnegie routine:
- Sheriff: "Aren't you cute! I like your boots."
- Mali: "Thanks! I like your gun!
- Sheriff: "Uh, thanks..."
- Mali: (Does finger guns) "Bang! So, are those your bullets?" (Points to his impressive sets of rounds)
- Sheriff: "Uh ... yes they are ..."
- Mali: "So, what are those plastic things they're in called?"
- Sheriff: "Um, they're called magazines..."
- Mali: "So, why are you here?"
- Sheriff: "Well, I'm waiting for my friend Charlie to get fixed up from a car accident..."
- Mali: ...told the sheriff about Leo and his bonk, chattering until until the sheriff edged away.
We went home. I soaked Leo's shirt in cold water (see above), which meant the blood washed out easily and his favorite shirt survived the incident as easily as its owner. We scrubbed those kids that needed scrubbing assistance and tossed them into bed and gave thanks for the conveniences of our life -- like insurance and ER proximity -- that made the whole incident so much less stressful than it could have been.
Leo was fine the next morning, except for occasionally asking for more kisses on the bonk spot. We spent the morning at the Palo Alto Junior Museum and Zoo's Super Family Sunday, an annual event during which they open the facility just for families of people with special needs. What a soothing, happy, stress-free event -- can't imagine a better way to follow up the previous evening's excitement (and I love to see museums and zoos and other orgs do this for our community).
Whew. We're such a lucky family.
|Non-bloody Leo loving the PAJMZ's new climbing web.|