Five little ducks went out one day,
In to the bottom kitchen drawer to play,
Mother Duck said "Quack quack quack" (which loosely translated means "watch your fingers")
And only four little ducks came back...
Yesterday morning, as I was getting Tricky's breakfast ready, he was playing with the bottom kitchen drawer about half a step away from me.
It's his drawer. Only his stuff goes in there and he's allowed to play with it. He'll sometimes touch the other drawers but after being told "no" he'll generally leave it alone, and go back to his drawer.
Yesterday was no different. Except as he went to close the drawer, he slipped and fell over.
Didn't make a sound. So I said "Oops, you fell over! Up you get, time for breakfast"
Then he started screaming.
I figured he must have bopped his head as he fell and was doing one of those delayed reaction cries. You know the ones where it's been a good five seconds since they've injured themselves and you can see the little cogs in their head turning. Does this hurt? Should I cry? Yeah I will. Waah! So I scooped him up for a cuddle and saw a little bit of blood on the floor.
I checked his mouth. He's put his tooth through his lip or gum before after a fall, but there didn't seem to be anything there. I looked down at his hand...
Blood everywhere.
I could see it was coming from his finger, but there was just so much blood I couldn't see how bad it was.
"Oh fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck have you cut your finger off?" Because dropping the F bomb to a one year old is fine in these situations.
I'm not entirely sure why I asked him. I didn't exactly expect him to look up and answer me.
I tried to blot away the blood with a tissue but it wasn't doing any good so I ran his finger under the tap. He went quiet. I think he liked the cold. I could see through the water that a big chunk of skin was missing.
After quickly getting dressed while my Mum (who was almost at my house already when it happened) held him, we jumped in the car and raced to the doctors.
We asked if we could see the nurse.
"You can't see the nurse without seeing the doctor"
We asked if we could see a doctor.
"Do you have an appointment? They're fully booked."
Are you fucking kidding me? Do you think I have an appointment? Meanwhile my child's hand is dripping with blood.
But I kept it all inside and instead said "No, I don't, he's just cut his finger a few minutes ago"
"Well he doesn't look too distressed"
What?! Can we focus for a second on the blood pouring out his frickin finger? Maybe he was in shock, I dunno, I'm not a medico and neither was she. Being a receptionist at a medical centre doesn't actually qualify you to triage.
So we waited almost an hour to see the doctor. My Mum and I took turns holding him, and holding his hand up and his thumb away. He wanted to touch his finger and each time he did it, it would pour with blood. We could see it wasn't a bad injury by now, but like all finger wounds, it would not. stop. bleeding.
I was anxious that the doctor would tell me off. Tell me I should have been supervising him more carefully, that I shouldn't let him play with the drawer. But instead, he introduced himself to me, asked what had happened then told me how his own son, at age 23, has just run his car up the back of a Mercedes, assuring me that "it doesn't stop as they get older, you'll have to get used to this".
The doctor put on those big magnifying goggles and had a look. The giant flap of skin was still partially attached so he unrolled it (ick), smoothed it down, and put a bandage on it.
All the while Tricky just sat there, hand outstretched, staring at the doctor. No screaming, even when he was unrolling the skin. Then when it was time to go he turned around and waved to the doctor. He bloody waved! The child is a champion.
Be sure to send in my Mother of the Year nomination, won't you?
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| Look I haz bandage! |
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| Hrmm, tastes funny |
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| I feel better now, Mama |
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| It got caught in Frederick's teeth |
