Our First Trip to the Emergency Room

In case some of you haven't heard the story, here it goes. While Ben was in Idaho Falls (because isn't that how it always happens?) Wilson decided to smash his head into the fireplace. He was running around the corner into the living room like he's done a million times. He tripped over his shoes which he's done a billion times. But just the right combination of the two and ... BAM! I was on the phone with my dad and pulled one of these, "Oh my gosh, Dad, I've got to go...CLICK." I completely spaced any emergency training I may have had. I had to call Ben to see what I should do. I think I used the phrase, "I think I can see his brain" which probably made Ben panic a little, but the cut was soooo deep. Meanwhile, poor Bennett is on the couch screaming his head off because he was two seconds away from having dinner. I called a bunch of neighbors and of course no one answers. I finally called my sister and told her I was dropping the baby off. By now, Wilson had stopped crying and the wound had stopped bleeding which I thought was really strange. I was sure all the blood was going into his brain. Just as I was pulling out my parents pulled up and asked which kid needed stitches. I guess years of emergency room trips make you pretty wise to these things. They took the baby and we were off to the emergency room. The eeriest part was looking back at my son with the gaping head wound. He was just drinking his milk and reassuring me that he was okay. Once we got there, the ER lady was far from sympathetic. She just said, "Did he get a little scratch?" I was like, you call this a little scratch? Who gave you your medical training? Wilson was really brave and calm until they strapped him to the papoose board (a cute name for a toddler torture devise). The nurses had to numb the wound by sticking a thin needle into his head and squirting medicine directly inside. If that wasn't enough, then they had to irrigate it. I was like one of those people who watch horror shows even though they hate every minute of it. I just couldn't look away. I have never heard Wilson scream so loudly and it reduced me to tears. When the doctor finally came in to do the stitches, Wilson was just pleading to go home. The nurses had to switch off holding his head because he was thrashing so much. The grand total was four internal stitches and five external stitches. But, in true Wilson fashion, once it was all over he just sat on my lap and read a book and ate their popsicle peace offering. On the way home Wilson called his father to let him know he was okay and then we got chicken and fries on the way home. It was very traumatic, but I am amazed that we made it through. I'm sure the papoose board and I will become very well acquainted in the next few years, but I think I can handle it now.