This morning, Chuckles woke up with a swollen eye that looked like this, for reasons I still don't comprehend. Bug bite? Allergic reaction? Thankfully, Chuckles was unaffected by his mutant eye. The sisters, however, were not so subtle as they recoiled in horror at their baby brother's face.
Then later on, my day took a dramatic turn. L-man was geared up to compete in three events for his inter-school track meet. Before his first event even began, a soccer net was pulled over onto him (yes, a big, metal heavy one), and he was knocked over, ensnared in the net, and banged his head hard on the metal goal post. I did not witness this, but I received the phone call that no mama wants to ever get. So I flew to the track meet and came upon the scene: an ambulance and police car in the far corner of the stadium. I tore across the grass like a psycho mama, and took a really deep breath before I came upon my biggest boy, covered in blood, head taped up and being strapped onto a stretcher with a spinal board and chin brace. He was talking and answering questions, and by all reports had not lost consciousness. Thank goodness.
We departed together in the ambulance, where he complained of hunger, of being restrained, and of sadness over missing all his events. At times his voice was too quiet, so I insisted on asking him more questions, making sure he was OK. It was a long ride, and for the record, there were no sirens going. Another good sign, I suppose. We were seen fairly quickly by emergency room standards, and it was determined that he needed five stitches. Nothing else seemed to hurt, that is, until his spied the needle that was going to be stuck just above his eye. At this point, I told him to "divert the pain" (that's what Arnold Schwartznegger would do) by squeezing the dickens out of my hand whenever he felt a stab of pain. He was a brave boy, asked lots of questions of the kind doctor (who thankfully got his medical start in plastics) He weathered this experience rather well. At one point he asked me to take a picture of him on the hospital bed with oozy wound and blood-soaked shirt, which I did, but I'll omit it here. Instead, you can have a close up of his mangled eye.
Tonight, we will observe concussion protocol and wake him up every two hours - just to be safe. But I think he's going to be fine. He has already perked up, and has basked in the attention of many well wishers. His good friend who filled in for him in the relay race came over to give L-man the ribbon that their team won. It was a terribly sweet and thoughtful exchange between two almost ten year old boys. Then came some flowers from the teachers, freshly made monster cookies, chocolate, and another friend bearing a doughnut for my injured boy. No wonder he's perked up!
I however, am not feeling so perky. It's been an emotional day, and this mama has to get up to nudge her sleeping son every two hours.
