The Wrong Kind of Red on Valentine's Day

Around here, we heart Valentine’s Day.  Pink!  Red!  Chocolate!   Baking treats!  Paper scraps!  What’s not to love?!­­­

I wanted to blog about the cute heart-shaped cheesy pretzels we were going to make, or post some photos of the cards Lauren made for her class.  But alas, I unexpectedly spent the entire day at the pediatrician’s office, the emergency room and then the pharmacy.

The full William ER story: A few months ago he cut himself just above the eye, on the corner of our nightstand,  I took him to the doctor and was told that he did not need stitches.  We left with ophthalmic ointment. 

 On Sunday he got a small cut in the exact same spot after sliding off of Lauren's bed. It looked the same as before, so I just applied the same ointment.

Then on Wednesday morning, he tripped and fell and hit his face on the side table and somehow split open the same cut in the exact same spot, only deeper. I took him to his doctor's office and they said he needed stitches, and so off we went to the ER.

We went to UCLA Westwood and got fast-tracked into the pediatric exam room, but then waited for a long time.  I was left to entertain a hungry toddler (yay for breastfeeding at least!) while shut up for hours in a small room full of expensive medical equipment that he desperately wanted to break!  Then they finally brought in the "papoose" and strapped him in, screaming, and they injected him with lidocaine and attempted to stitch the cut.

Three ER doctors saw him, plus they consulted with a plastic surgeon.  They were torn on whether to give stitching so close to the eye, could risk infection.

They said it was a really freak thing for him to injure the same place again so soon.  After 5 hours there, we left with an open wound and prescriptions for more opthalmic ointment and an oral antibiotic. Now if we can only keep him from reinjuring himself!

And if there is a lesson in all of this (besides "go to UCLA Santa Monica, they are quicker") it is that I am so lucky to be one of the people who gets to wait 5 hours.  I know people whose children have serious chronic health problems, for whom hospitals are a way of life.  We're really fortunate we only go for occasional scrapes.  For us to be ignored meant that doctors were busy looking after graver cases than ours.  And for that, on this day of love and roses, I am grateful!