Trauma in the ER!!!

Okay, I guess I'll go ahead and tell you about our traumatic ER experience. (I didn't know if anyone would read that last post--I'm glad to know that some of you were curious!) I'm going to write all the details, mostly so we have a record of it, so feel free to skim or just look at the pictures...

So, last Thursday night around 9 PM, I had just gotten Gracie all ready for bed (I know, I know--I'm not very good about getting her to bed early). Dave was studying, preparing to take his English final online--it was due by midnight and was to last 90 minutes, so he was feeling pretty pressured. Anyway, Gracie was running to her reading corner behind the couch and tripped/slipped on something, and she fell and hit her forehead on the corner of the wall. Here's a picture to help you better visualize (if you want to do such a thing). She hit about where the arrow is pointing.

I saw her from behind as she hit her head, and watched her reaction to see how bad it was. She started crying (which she rarely does), so I knew that it hurt pretty bad but I didn't know if it had broken the skin. I picked her up and she laid (lay?) her head on my shoulder and wouldn't let me look at it, so I walked into where Dave was studying to have him look. As I walked in there, I caught a glimpse of us in the mirror and saw that there was blood, and the panicked look on Dave's face told me that it was pretty bad. Luckily, in that moment, I also remembered that long ago, Dave's mom had warned us that there is a lot of blood supply to the forehead, so it's normal for there to be a lot of blood when a child gets hurt there and it doesn't always mean you need to rush to the doctor/hospital. I was very grateful that I remembered that, because it helped me stay calm even though Dave and Gracie were both pretty scared.

So, we soaked up the blood and it stopped bleeding within a couple minutes, so then we cleaned the cut and put Neosporin and a Band-aid on it. As we cleaned it, it seemed to be closing on its own, so we thought that it would be fine with just a Band-aid. Gracie calmed down really quickly too, and didn't seem to have any of the warning signs of concussion or serious head injury, so we sat and watched some Toy Story 2 for a few minutes and then put her to bed.

The next day Gracie was doing well and didn't seem to be in any pain, but we noticed that the cut had bled a little more, so we took the bandage off to look at it. It had swollen overnight and opened a little more, which concerned us enough to call the doctor for advice. After describing what had happened and the resulting wound (about 3/4 inch long and 1/8-1/4 inch wide, FYI), the advice nurse didn't seem too concerned and said that we could take her to the emergency room if we were worried about it. (They don't do stitches at her doctor's office.) I felt better after talking to her, because she didn't sound too concerned, but we decided to take her to the ER just to make sure. This is what the wound looked like at this point:

Don't those sad eyes just break your heart?

The admitting nurse didn't seem worried either, and said it could probably be closed with the adhesive stuff (you like my technical terms?) rather than actual stitches. So, after that we went and sat in the waiting room for about an hour and then we got called back for evaluation (which meant another hour of sitting on a hospital bed in the hallway, followed by a visit from a nurse). The lady who ended up "taking care" of us was pretty negative and unfriendly, and after looking at it said that we should've had it stitched the night before (said with a very judgmental tone, I might add). I felt awful after she said that, because I had been the one downplaying it the night before, but Dave told me not to worry about it. After she left to get the paperwork started, we talked to a doctor who was very kind and said that it really wasn't that bad of a cut, but they would be doing stitches mostly because it was on the face and doing stitches would leave less of a scar than letting it heal on its own. (That made me feel much better.) At this point Gracie was already starting to freak out because of all these people poking and prodding her, and every time she saw the mean nurse she would cling to me and start crying.

We waited another half hour while they got everything ready, and every minute made Gracie more anxious. Then they explained to us that they would need to restrain her with sheets and have us hold her down so they could do the stitches. They restrained her by putting a pillowcase behind her, with her arms in it, and then wrapping a hospital bedsheet around the rest of her body. Then Dave had to hold her legs, I held her torso, and a nurse held her head. Gracie was totally frantic by now (which I can absolutely understand--can you say claustrophobia?) and we couldn't believe the strength with which she fought and struggled. After cleaning the wound and numbing it (with a needle stuck right in the middle of it!), they put a paper with a small hole in it over her face so that everything would be sterile as they stitched. She really panicked when they did that, because then she couldn't even see us. I tried to talk to her and tell her it was okay, but it was hard to do that because I was crying too! Dave and I felt like the most horrible parents ever! The mean lady was the one doing the (two) stitches, and it took forever for them to be done, partly because Gracie was struggling so much. After a little while, the lady got mad and started yelling at Gracie, "Gracie, you have to stop moving, or we'll never get this done!" and other stuff that no 3-year-old could understand or respond to under the circumstances. I honestly was afraid she was going to hit Gracie or something, she was so upset. (Don't get me wrong--we were all worn out and frustrated that Gracie was struggling so much, but we could certainly understand why she was struggling and didn't feel a need to yell at her!) In the midst of all this, Gracie said, "Mommy!" and I said, "I'm right here!" and then she said, "I need a hug!!!" Man, I could've died from guilt and heartbrokenness right then!

So, they finally finished, and then the nurse told us (again), "If you had brought her in last night, I could've stitched that perfectly closed, but she'll definitely have a scar since you waited so long." (She told us at least 5 times that we should have brought her the night before; I really didn't see a point in telling us more than once, since we couldn't go back and change what we had done.) When they finished all the paperwork and everything, we practically ran out of that place! Gracie's entire body and all her hair were soaked with sweat from being wrapped up and from all her struggling. But, to her credit, Gracie calmed down and became her normal, happy self as soon as we unwrapped her.

After that we decided to get Gracie whatever she wanted for dinner, so we offered pizza, chicken nuggets, or a burrito (3 of her favorite foods), and she chose burrito, so we went to Taco Bell. (I know that sounds like we're cheapskates, but she really loves their burritos!) While we were eating dinner, she started telling us about the ordeal: "Momma say, 'Don't move.' Daddy say, 'Don't move.' Doctor say, 'Don't move." and "Have blue hands!" When she said that, we felt awful, because we realized that all she could see were hands with blue gloves on them, coming toward her and touching her owie! We explained that the lady was wearing gloves, and she seemed to feel better about it. She still talks about what happened every day. Here is her version of the story:
"Fall down, hit the wall, was blood, get a band-aid, all better." followed by "[Doctor] put tape [steri-strips, on top of the stitches] on it. Was SO brave. Was a scary thing!" It breaks our hearts every time she recounts it, but we figure that talking about it helps her, and we praise her for her bravery every time. Oh, and here's a picture of her the day after the stitches were put in:

And another, taken just a few hours ago.

So, maybe two stitches doesn't sound all that bad, but because of how much Gracie suffered and how long it took, it seriously was one of the worst experiences of my (our) life (lives). I told Dave I'd rather go through labor twice than ever have to do that again (and that's saying something, 'cause I was in labor for 36 hours with Gracie!). Unfortunately, I'm sure this is just the first of many ER visits we'll make with our children, but hopefully we'll have a nice, long break before the next one! (That is, except for tomorrow, when we have to take her back to have the stitches removed. Pray for us, please.)

P.S. This is mostly me trying to help myself feel better, but I don't feel too guilty anymore about not taking Gracie to the hospital right after it happened, for several reasons:
1. The cut didn't look too bad right afterward. It was the swelling the next morning that opened it back up and made the stitches necessary.
2. All the medical personnel we talked to about it (besides the mean nurse) acted like it was no big deal and it was up to us whether or not to get stitches.
3. Gracie was very overtired when the injury happened, and spending hours in the ER at that point may have made for a worse experience than what did happen.
4. Dave had to take his final that night, and his English teacher does not accept late work. I know that may sound like a silly thing to worry about, but honestly! And I certainly couldn't have handled taking her to the ER by myself, either physically or emotionally--remember, I'm 7 months pregnant!
5. Dave isn't mad at me, nor does he resent me for not taking her that night.

Okay, I'm really done. Gracie is doing fine now, and we are just hoping that she doesn't scar too badly. Thanks so much for reading!