It was bound to happen sooner or later. We've seen abrasions, contusions, black eyes, bloody lips, smashed fingers, and whacked noses, but somehow none of these injuries has quite warranted a trip to the emergency room. All of that changed on Friday, however, when Max sustained a nasty blow to the back of the head.
I had loaded both boys into the double stroller and walked a good 25 minutes to one of our favorite parks (Krusi Park for the locals). It was a long trek, but after a couple weeks of vacation and entertaining, I was feeling like I needed a little exercise. Once we arrived at the park, we spent fifteen minutes or so climbing all over the play structure. Henry was working on his ladder skills, and Max was transfixed by some "big boys" who were performing all sorts of dangerous maneuvers that the designers of the play equipment surely never envisioned. I had my back turned to Max as I helped Henry up a ladder when I heard a scream and then hysterical crying. A millisecond later I was at Max's side and I scooped him up and started shushing and reassuring him -- something I do several times a day when one or the other boy falls over, trips, crashes into a wall, drops a toy on his toe, etc. This time, however, Max wasn't easily soothed and when I readjusted him on my lap, I noticed that my arm was covered with blood. Sure enough, he had a large gash on the back of his head that was gushing blood all over the place. Nothing bleeds like a good scalp wound! I grabbed the only cloth I could find in my diaper bag, an extra pair of underwear, and pressed it to his head. Meanwhile, I was yelling at Henry to get off of the play structure and come over to Mommy -- a request he delightedly chose to ignore.
It was at this point that our first angel of the day entered the story. Another mom at the park asked if she could help and I sent her over to retrieve Henry. She sat with us as Max's bleeding slowed and I tried to get a good look at the wound. She then offered to help us to the car, but of course I had no car since I had walked to the park. Taking things one step further, she volunteered to drive us home. She had two carseats in her car, she explained, and could leave her kids for a few minutes with their grandmother who was also at the park. Ah, Sandra of San Leandro -- how I wish I had gotten your phone number or address! I don't know what we would have done without you. Acts of kindness like this one are truly humbling and remind you that there really are good people in the world.
Back at home, I called Kaiser and Scott and was advised by both to get Max to the ER as soon as possible. The bleeding had stopped, but he was pale and clearly shaken. I loaded the boys into the car and drove into Oakland, cursing the traffic the whole way to the hospital. Once there, we encountered our second angel -- a kind triage nurse who went out of her way to speak with two doctors and get us into the "Fast Track" line instead of the interminable main waiting room.
Scott showed up at the hospital about this time, and he was able to watch Henry as I went back with Max to the exam area. The nurse had warned me that he would probably need staples, and that I would have to help hold him down. Yikes. As it turned out, however, our third angel of the day, the ER doctor (himself a father of three boys), had a creative plan that allowed us to avoid this medieval sounding experience. He pulled the hair on either side of the wound and wound it together which closed the gash. Then, he liberally applied some sort of crazy glue. Voila! A clean, closed wound with no staples or sutures!
Max was a real trooper through this whole experience. He didn't cry in the hospital and he did everything the doctor asked. He was thrilled when the nurse brought him apple juice and graham crackers and the first thing he said was, "I need to save some of this to share with Henry!" My sweet, brave little boy...
Friday night we had to wake Max up every four hours just to make sure that there was no late-onset neurological problems from the fall and the blow to the head. Max is now doing absolutely fine and you would never know that anything had happened except for the stiff glue spot on his scalp.
Whoo! What an experience. As a mother of two boys, I'm sure that this won't be my last time in the ER, especially since the father of these two broke eight bones over the course of his own childhood. God help me!
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