On Tuesday evening, we arrived home from our long 12-hour trek from Wisconsin around 6.30p. My husband and I had already decided we would do a home date (usually consisting of take-out and a movie) after we put the kids to bed. So we fed the kids and took them upstairs for baths.
The girls were in and out of the tub first. In went Keaton. Meanwhile, Sienna was getting dressed for bed and I was getting ready to brush through her wet hair. She was running through the upstairs like a madwoman. As usual.
And then I heard screaming.
It was hard to tell at first which child it was. Keaton could be screaming in the tub because he hates having his hair rinsed. Reagan could be screaming because Sienna just ran over her in her mad dash through the hallway. I could think of no reason for Sienna to be screaming. But alas, it was her.
I walked into her room where she was holding her head, her hand completely covered in blood. Oh boy, this can't be good. I whisked her up in my arms and held her against my chest to get a closer look in the light of the bathroom. As we got closer, I pulled her hand away from her head and saw - eeek - a huge gash.
Considering I've had three children, you'd think I'd be absolutely immune to the look of blood gushing from....well, anywhere. But I'm totally not. Blood makes me queasy. And that much blood reminds me of the time my dad almost cut off his thumb in the snowblower. *Gulp*
By this time, it was hair-rinsing time for Keaton so he too was screaming. Reagan was squeeling because I was trying to keep her out of the bathroom while holding Sienna - the only person in the house who had a legit reason to be screaming.
I asked - errr, yelled above the screaming - to my husband for a wet washcloth. I held it to her face as the screaming continued. After a few seconds of that, I checked again. *Double gulp*
"I might need you to come evaluate this!" I yelled to my husband. "But first, can you please put Reagan to bed?" Sure, I felt bad about rushing her off to bed w/o hugs and kisses, but you know....sometimes other things are just more important.
He returned from Reagan's room and we switched kids. I proceeded to the bathroom where I promptly DUMPED water all of my son's head and rushed him off to bed as well.
Sienna was finally starting to calm down to a whimper by the time the other two were in bed and I decided to call the doctor's answering service to see what standard procedure is for such a deep cut as this. Do we put pressure on it and see if the bleeding stops? Should we take her in for stitches? How do we know how deep is too deep?
The doctor asked me some silly questions like, "Are you sure it's a deep cut and not just a surface scratch?" Umm, HELLO. I've lived 24 years on this planet. I'm pretty sure I know how to differentiate between a surface scratch and a GASH.
"Yes, it's a deep cut," I told her. She suggested we take her to the hospital for stitches. My husband suggested Immediate Care. I honestly hadn't even thought of that since, in most cases from our experience, they are absolutely worthless and simply send you over to the ER thereby causing you to pay out of pocket TWICE.
I called over and asked if they did stitches. "Yep, we do," was the woman's reply. Wonderful.
Thankfully, we had a neighbor who was able to come over and watch the other two while we took her the Immediate Care Center. I know, you're probably thinking that just one of us could have done that. But bad things kept running through my head. Things like....What if she starts touching it while I'm driving? Or what if it starts to gush blood again? I won't be able to reach her or help the situation. Hence, both of us went.
When the treatment room finally opened, I was waiting for the needle. But when the doctor entered, she cleaned it out and announced that Derma-bond should do the trick. PRAISE. THE. LORD.
So she and a nurse glued my daughter's head back together. I love the way that phrase sounds. :)
So my "thankfuls" for this week include:
Fun trip to WI
Safe travels both directions
NO STITCHES necessary for Sienna's head