Head Games

One of my boys ended up in Urgent Care last week. He had a gash across his forehead that required three stitches. He’s fine. This is not our first head wound rodeo. I have three boys, so head wounds are kind of a trend. All three of them have now had one, and the one last week was round two for that kid. Right now we’re two for two on a plain old accident versus a really stupid choice.

The very first one was an accident. One kid slipped and hit the back of his head on the corner of the wall. That was my first experience with a head wound, and holy shit. In case you’re not aware, when you gash your head, it bleeds like a stuck pig. It’s incredible. My husband was standing patiently over me while I sat with the kid in my lap, bathing in his blood, completely freaking out.

“You have to calm down,” he kept saying.

“Are you kidding me? This kid looks like he’s going to need a transfusion in about three minutes, and you want me to calm down??”

Since my husband is a) a boy, and b) an Eagle Scout, he knew about the bleeding. He’s also far less inclined to flip out over things that have to do with the kids than I am. He told me later he was prepared to take the kid to Urgent Care if it hadn’t stopped bleeding when it did.

The next time someone came to me gushing blood from his head I managed to keep my cool. We were at the softball field watching my husband’s men’s league game. The kids were off playing. My oldest was about six, and I turned around to see him walking toward me with a wave of blood flowing down his face and dripping off his nose. Because he knew there was something going on, but couldn’t tell what, he had his brow furrowed in a way that made it appear that he had a six inch gash across his forehead. As calmly as I could, I grabbed a napkin and a bottle of water, and wiped the blood off so I could see the actual injury.

There were three small nicks, the largest of which was the size of the head of a pin along his hair line. When I asked him how it happened, he said they were throwing rocks up in the air, and watching them fall back down again.

“Next time maybe take a step to the left after you throw them up,” I suggested.

Honestly.

The next accident occurred at a family Christmas celebration. It was about three days after Christmas, and we were at my aunt’s house. The kids were out back playing, running races back and forth across her patio. One of the twins got to the “finish line” and his brother somehow managed to shove him, causing him to sit down hard and whack his head against a concrete planter. The result was the expected fountain of blood. He got a staple and some ice cream.

All of which brings us to the other night. Again, the scene of the crisis was the same softball field, and again, there was a rock involved. This time, however, it was one of the twins and his sister, playing with one of their friends. They were playing War. And throwing rocks at each other. Because of course they were. I got a call from my husband to come get my daughter so he could take our son to Urgent Care. The result was three stitches. And ice cream, of course.

I’m sure this isn’t the end of our relationship with Urgent Care. I think we have a few more years before they’re past the point where they’ll throw rocks and end up with head wounds. Yes, I’d like to think they’ve learned that throwing rocks = blood = stitches, but these are boys. Lessons like these are learned slowly.


9 comments:

Vanessa D. said...

I had only two boys and I spent a lot of time waiting at the ER. I'm almost a pro at deciding what should be stitched and what I can just slap a band-aid on.

Tracy said...

My husband handles those decisions (that whole Eagle Scout training thing). So far he's been right every time, so I let him retain that responsibility.

kdcol said...

I'm not sure how we've avoided more than one instance of needing stitches, but somehow we have. Knock on wood. Knock on wood. Knock on wood. The stitches were for my youngest. I believe he was about 4 at the time. He hit his chin on a chair just so and split his chin open. From what I hear, it's not an uncommon injury. Hmm, go figure. But that's been it (so far...). Knock on wood... Knock on...

Gigi said...

I had to laugh about them throwing the rocks in the air and watching them come down. It's such a little boy thing to do! Luckily, knock on wood, we've never had a head wound with ours. He just kept getting injured playing sports - and that was bad enough.

Tracy said...

kdcol - keep knocking. I know I am, hoping that we get no more! Probably not going to happen, but I can hope!

Gigi - on the other hand, we've been really lucky to have no sports-related injuries to date. Knock on wood!

Aussa Lorens said...

I feel like I just read a post about my childhood ;) And also I want ice cream now.

Tracy said...

You had a bunch of brothers, so I'm sure there were a lot of similarities :) And you should definitely have ice cream.

Natalia Campos said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Natalia Campos said...

I hear you about needing to use Urgent Care for stuff. They've been good to me for the most part. I can see how boys would be sure to get wounds on their bodies from sports and the like. Makes sense when they like to play with rocks! Hope your family is better now.