Off to the hospital (again)

Last night, around 7:30, we were just finishing up a game of classic memory with the boys when Kyle got a little revved up (memory will do that you know), swung around fast and hit his head on the corner of the coffee table - about a half inch above his right eye. There was quite a bit of blood and a some crying, but the worst part was seeing him writhing in his mommy's arms with no sound coming out.

We ran across the street to our neighbor who is a doctor (and who has raised three boys), but he wasn't there. His wife looked at it (who did most of the raising part) and thought it looked like a trip to the ER. We decided to go. At least this wasn't our first trip (this is actually our fourth trip for Ky Ky). The amazing part - Heather agreed to let me take him and she stayed home with Owen.

After applying a little neosporin (to slow clotting), packing some clothes and honey bunny, Kyle and I rushed off to the hospital. To get registered and sit for a three hour wait. No amount of asking, pleading or bullying sped it up. Three hours to have my baby's eye tended to.

In the world's richest country, with the worlds most sophisticated medical system, that is a true embarrassment. But who am I kidding - this is capitalism at work.

One good thing - he got to have Macaroni and Cheese (they made him a snack while we waited) and jello.

Finally we saw the doctor. She was very young and also very good. This is what happened:

She came in and Kyle said "What's your name???" And she told him. Then he said "I'm Kyle". She asked what happened. "I bang bang bang [with violent head motions] on my head". "Oh, ouch" she say.

"This may hurt a little, but it's ok. [and to me] He can stay on your lap, just be sure to hold him"

She proceeded to take some damp gauze, and wipe very firmly on the wound. The bright red blood came off. Then she picked out the eyebrow hair from the cut - one hair at a time. Then she tucked the fatty tissue back into the cut and squeezed the cut shut. The fatty tissue popped out and she tucked is back and and shut the wound.

Kyle didn't budge. He didn't cry, he didn't wince, he didn't fuss. He took it stoically and calmly. It was incredible.

She then went and got dermabond aka superglue. She spread the wound open again, tucked the fatty tissue back in, and pinched it closed. She broke open the applicator and applied it to the open wound. It was like she was putting clear nail polish (or I suppose super glue) right onto it.

It hurt - it stung - Kyle tried to move her hands away and I had to hold him. But after about 5 seconds, he was fine and said somewhat hopefully "It's getting better?" "The doctor's doing a good job?".

Yes baby, it's getting better.

After the 10 minute visit, and a Popsicle courtesy of the doctor, we went out, collected our paperwork and went home. It was 11:30 PM. I called Heather from the car to tell her. Kyle asked me who it was. He then said "It's getting better?" Yes baby, it's getting better. And he fell deeply asleep in his car seat.

We got home, put him in bed and both had a Bourbon.

Now, granted, this is nothing like what the Livesay's deal with, but it's tough none-the-less.