Rite of Passage

So I didn't post yesterday, but I think you will consider my excuse a valid one. It's crazy how you are chugging along in life, going about your day, and BAM, you're headed for the Emergency Room.

Last night I was giving the kids baths, and Brian had just left to catch a drink and go to a basketball game with a friend, a treat that he had been looking forward to all week. I had dried and dressed David and sat him on the bathroom floor while I did the same to Katy. I gave him a toy, but he quickly tossed it aside and started reaching for the bathroom scale. I didn't think too much of it, until a moment later when I heard screaming, and I looked over to see the blood. Lots and lots of blood.

The next few minutes was a blur of rinsing and applying pressure to David's finger and trying to figure out what had happened. Later we discovered a sharp metal piece on the bottom edge of the scale that was the culprit. But I was pretty sure from my winced observations that David had severed the tip of his middle finger almost completely off, including most of the fingernail. I called Brian, who literally sprinted home while I called the pediatrician. I was pretty sure that we needed to go to the ER, but felt like I should call for some reason. She told me to go to an urgent care. My sister was at my house within 10 minutes to watch Katy so we could go. (Oh, how THANKFUL I am for that. It would've been a nightmare to take her).

It just so happens that our closest urgent care is actually in the Children's Hospital. We attempted to go there, but they took one look at the finger and sent us to the ER. I was so glad that this was a walk through a hallway rather than another screaming car ride with me stroking his face and still squeezing that tiny little appendage. But you know how the ER goes. It doesn't matter what problem you're there for - it's going to take 4 hours. Four grueling, traumatic hours.

This accident happened right at David's bedtime, right before I was about to nurse him and give him some more ibuprofen for his teeth. So through the whole experience, he was exhausted, hungry, and in pain. Eventually I was able to nurse him, but it was difficult to do because I had to be so careful with his hand. The worst part was the times we had to pin him down to do procedures on him - twice for numbing shots, then for x-rays, then for the sutures. The sutures took about 20 minutes, he screamed the whole time, and I just had to look into his face and say, "I'm so sorry, Bubby. It's almost over, Sweetheart," etc, etc. They confirmed that he had cut the tip almost entirely off, but that they had been able to stitch it back together. She said she was optimistic that the tip would survive, but that we would have to be really careful to keep this boxing glove of gauze on his hand clean and dry. Ummm...yeah...about that. He's 7 months old.

Brian and I were incredibly relieved, however, that we live so close to such a tremendous Children's Hospital. If we lived out in the country and had to go to a small adult ER, what are the chances there would be someone there with experience sewing 7 month old finger tips together? The suture tech compared it to sewing together 2 pieces of wet toilet paper. That's pretty impressive.

When we got home, we put a sock on his arm and hoped for the best. We'll go back to the pediatrician on Monday morning, and until then I'll be nervous. Nervous about keeping the bandages on (we've already had to replace them once today), nervous about avoiding infection, and nervous that the finger tip will heal properly. So if you could pray for those things, that would be great.

I didn't sleep well last night with all of those haunting images and what-ifs going through my mind. He was able to sleep today and didn't seem to be in too much pain. And it could've been worse for many many reasons. Now I'll settle in and pray for the best.