in case of emergency

I had one of those ‘freak out mom moments’ on Labor Day. We were on the porch and Logan tumbled off the top of the slide head first. His landing point coincided directly with the corner of the metal door frame which sliced his head right open. He’s fallen before, but not like that. Usually I’m dealing with goose eggs and looking for signs of concussions. Oozing cuts are another matter. 

Both twins were sick with colds too, complicating the matter. Dave was also at work (being the random person that actually has to work on Labor Day due to his magazine’s weekly publishing schedule).  So I was alone. Both kids were crying. Doctors office was closed. Do I take him to the emergency room? Oh heavens, please not that.

My mom worked in an ER for years, first as a nurse then as a doctor. She now works for an urgent care clinic, and she’s always the person I call when I need medical advice. I sometimes call her ‘Dr. Mom’. And because of her I know all about stupid people that go to the ER when they don’t need to. I know about long waits. And that the holidays are even worse due to the stupid things people do while drinking and celebrating. Facing an ER waiting room with both twins watching people with bigger emergencies go ahead of me while I try to entertain Lily and Logan, preventing them from having meltdowns was definitely not my first option.

I call mom who asks me how wide the gape is. “First you have to clean it out to see the actual cut,” she says. This required me pinning him down as I tried to clean off the blood. His head wouldn’t stay still, he was screaming at the top of his lungs and I was near tears myself. Lily got mad and started screaming, grabbing my arm and trying to stop me from torturing her brother. I gave my mom the measurement, comparing the cut to a ruler I quickly grabbed from my desk drawer. 

The results were negative for the ER. Just a bit of the prescription Neosporin-type ointment from the “Dr. Mom Stash” and he should be good to go. “You could wait until Dave comes home late tonight, shave his head and bind it together with suture tape to prevent scarring,” she said. I laughed. The thought of us holding him still enough to shave accurately just didn’t seem possible. So the kid has a small scar under his hair. It will give him character.

I just hope the next time something like that happens Dave is around. Because now I’m plagued with nightmares of the ER.