So, in E! News....
When I was busy not blogging in October, Ethan took a spill off his bike. It looked a little something like this:
At least that's what it looked like when we finally got him to the hospital. What it looked like initially? Was a lot bloodier. I am forever grateful that Husband was with Ethan when the chin-splitting fall took place because I would likely have passed out at the sight of all that blood, hit my own head on the pavement and then we'd be quite a pair. But Husband had the presence of mind to stay conscious, and he scooped the screaming bleeding boy up and carry him home, while at the same time dialing me and yelling into the phone, "We're going to the hospital. We're going to need stitches" over the screaming coming from Ethan.
Now, when Husband says without any hesitation that we are in an emergency situation that requires immediate medical attention (and then goes on to specify what that medical attention is going to be)? It's an emergency. This man has talked me out of many a late night trips to the ER with Ethan over the past 5 years and the one time he did cave to my hysteria last year after a bout of croupy coughing and vomiting, he was kind of humoring me. He's calm under pressure and rarely over-reacts, while I get kiiiiiind of crazy in any situation that does not resemble a spa setting.
So I knew to throw on my shoes and meet them at the front door, where I was greeted by my child covered in blood which was still gushing thickly from somewhere on his face. I ran back inside for towels and ice and off we went to the nearest ER.
The thing about some ER nurses? They aren't so great with screaming kids. I'm sure there are some who are phenomenal. I'm sure there are ER nurses out there who would make it their job, especially on a slow October Saturday afternoon, to put a terrified, hurting 5 year old boy at ease while he waited to be examined by the doctor. Buuuuuut, not these ER nurses. They were more about asking us to get our kid to pipe down because he was scaring other patients. Now granted, Ethan was in full-on terror & shock mode, having what I am absolutely certain would have been categorized as a panic attack. I get that it was unnerving (hello, it took YEARS off of my life. I get it!) But really? "Can you quiet your kid down because he's scaring other patients." Yeah, sorry. But no.
When the doctor on call finally got the bleeding to stop and the area numbed enough that she could get a good look (and by "good look" I mean she could see straight down into the chasm that only stopped at my son's chin bone), she announced that she "wasn't going to touch that," and that we'd have to wait for the plastic surgeon on call to come in. That sent Ethan into another round of hysterics, but Husband was smart and whipped out the iPhone to distract Ethan while we waited.
That looked something like this:
See that little scratch on his middle finger? That was the only other mark on his body from this fall. The entire brunt of it was taken by his chin, hence the split that could only be described as a chin c-section.
Hours later, the plastic surgeon showed up in a pair of shorts and a Calvin Klein t-shirt ready
to dose me up with botox stitch the boy's chin up. After about 5 more panic attacks (Husband finally had the stroke of genius to turn the Beatles musical selections on from his iPhone and miraculously Ethan relaxed and cooperated), six internal stitches and eight external...or maybe it's the other way around--either way, there were 14 stitches, they sent us on our way....which looked kind of like this....
So that was in October. Last week, Ethan had a crown put on one of his back molars because in addition to splitting his chin to the bone, he also knocked his teeth together so hard during the fall that he fractured a couple teeth.
Clearly he is still super adorable:
And he likes to remind me on occasion, that "chicks dig scars, mommy."