Gosh, That's a Lot of Blood . . .

What started out as an ordinary day turned into a catastrophe of epic proportions.  Seriously.  If you are squeamish at all, it's probably a good time to turn your web browser to a different station.  Otherwise, stick around!

We were supposed to go swimming at the Highland Park Pool today with several of our playgroup friends.  However, given the weather, we cancelled our swimming date and switched to Chick Fil A instead.  I love Chick Fil A.  They have a brand new spicy chicken sandwich, and Sammy and Sophia cannot get enough of their chicken nuggets.  I honestly wonder sometimes if Chick Fil A secretly laces their food with cocaine or methamphetamines, or some other highly addictive drug.  Otherwise, why would we voluntarily go there several times a week and still crave it?

After eating with our friends, we headed into the play area.  For a while, I was able to let Sammy go into the play area by himself, and have girl talk with my friends while Sophia happily babbled, but now that she is mobile, my presence is required in the play area.  Especially given that she wants to climb up in the play structure!  Which is what she was doing today.  She climbed about halfway up, and then was content to sit and laugh joyfully through the mesh at me.  Sammy, meanwhile, was really not interested in playing much today, and instead was sitting by the door on one of the benches, drinking his lemonade. 

Seconds later, I heard a loud crack followed by an immediate scream.  I looked over to see Sammy flat on his back in the corner, hollering and crying.  I immediately ran to him and picked him up.  Sammy's pretty heavy, so I turned to sit on one of the benches and began to rock him while holding his head, when one of the other moms in the play area announced, "Um, there's a lot of blood."  I pull my hand away from his head to see that there is, indeed, a lot of blood.  Enough blood to make me feel sick to my stomach, and to announce, "I think I'm going to be sick."  My friend Alison ran out of the play area to get help, and another mom said, "Look at me.  You are not going to be sick.  This is your child.  You are not going to be sick."  I shook off the nausea and said, "You're right, I'm not going to be sick."

Let me interject here to tell you the reconstruction (as far as I can tell) of what exactly Sammy did.  He was sitting on the end of a bench and drinking lemonade.  I believe he turned to place the lemonade on the window ledge, and as he did, his behind slid off the edge of the bench, and he fell backwards into the corner.  In the corner, there was a square shaped metal pole, and when he fell back, he struck his head on the pole, cutting it open.

OK, back to being sick.  Or, not being sick . . . Just then, my other friend Phyllis who used to be a pediatric nurse arrived inside the play area.  I pulled my hand away from Sammy's head, and she said the cut looked pretty deep.  Deep enough to need stitches.  I took a deep breath, tried not to panic, and said, "OK, so do we need to go to the hospital?  Can I drive there or do we need an ambulance?"  Then the Chick Fil A management team, including the owner, Rusty Wylie, and a manager, Amber Norwood, showed up with towels and bags of ice to help.

After deciding to drive, I realized that I had to do something with Sophia as well.  It's hard to think about everything when one of your children is bleeding, but despite some fuzzy brain, I did.  Another mom crawled up in the playgym and got her, while a second one gathered up my purse for me.  Phyllis loaded Sophia in the truck, and then I sat there trying to decide whether to put Sammy in his car seat for the drive or place him in the front seat with me.  To be honest, I was sort of in shock.  It's hard to think straight when your child is in pain like that, and you are worried.  Phyllis recommended that I needed to hold pressure on his head so that he didn't lose more blood.  While I tried to figure out how to do that and drive at the same time, the Chick Fil A manager, Amber, volunteered to drive me to Katy Memorial Hermann.

Wow!  Can I say that they went above and beyond to help me?  I'm so glad that Sammy cut his head open at Chick Fil A, because I don't think we would have gotten as much help from any other place in town.  The manager, Amber, drove my truck to the hospital while I held Sammy in the back and frantically called my mom, and then my Aunt Linda, to meet us up there and pick up Sophia.  To top it off, when we pulled up to the ER, Amber dropped me at the door so I could get help for Sammy quicker, and then parked and brought Sophia inside and sat with her until my family could get there. 

Turns out while we were sitting in triage, there was quite a party going on in the waiting room.  The "CFA Lady" Amber (as I termed her in my franticness), Sophia, my mom and my niece Amber, my Aunt Linda and her granddaughter Kirsten, my friend Phyllis and her son Jackson, and my BFF Amanda and her children Grayson and Bailey all showed up to make sure Sammy was ok.  Some friends are forever, and I'm so glad I have such great friends!  To top it off, Sophia, Kirsten and Bailey were all wearing their petticoats, so Linda termed it a petticoat party and suggested we have our next playgroup in the hospital ER waiting room since everyone was having such a good time out there!

In the meantime, we were helped by an awesome nurse named Erik.  He was extremely friendly to Sammy and helped keep him calm while placing lidocaine (for numbing) and gauze in place until the doctor could come in. 

Upon seeing this picture of his head wrapped, Sammy decided that he looked like a soldier and decided it wasn't too bad.

Here's a back view.  At this point, with the blood cleaned off and him no longer screaming, I was beginning to doubt my decision to bring him to the ER . . .

 The funny part is, when Erik the nurse asked Sammy what happened, and Sammy was telling him about falling off the bench when he was turning around to put his lemonade back on the shelf behind him, Sammy realized something that was pretty important and began to cry again . . . "Mommy, I left my lemonade at Chick Fil A!"  Erik thought that was hysterical - Sammy's cut his head open, blood was everywhere, and all he cares about is he left his lemonade behind.  That's a classic!

When the doctor came in, she took a look at the cut (which they were now terming a 'laceration' - sounds so much more serious!) and asked me whether we wanted stitches or staples.  At first she was pushing me to have his head stapled (hello - FrankenSammy), but after much texting and discussion with both my husband and Phyllis, I decided on stitches.  The doctor didn't seem to happy about that, but from what I understand, staples are easier to put in now, but more uncomfortable to take out later.  Stitches, while more difficult to put in at first, are easy as pie to take out, so I focused on that prospect.  Then they shaved his head.

I know, it's gross.  But seeing it without hair in the way anymore, I knew I made the right decision to take him in for stitches.  Poor thing.  It looks terrible!

It turns out the doctor wasn't even the one who would be stitching Sammy up.  The nurse practitioner did, with a little help from a different nurse who held Sammy's head still while I laid on top ofhim to keep his body still.  Honestly, the stitches weren't that bad.  I should know, I saw them right up close while they were being done.  Right after they stuck a needle inside of the 'laceration' and injected several places with more lidocaine to numb the area. 

Just so you know, if you promise to take a picture when the doctor is through, my child will sit still.  When he saw this pic, he announced, "Oh Mommy, it looks like windmills, just like on Thomas!"

It's funny - I held that sick feeling in my stomach on edge until we were all done and I was carrying Sammy to the car.  Once he was safely stitched up, and then buckled into the vehicle, I felt the nausea rising in my body again.  It's amazing how you can put your own personal feelings aside in order to be strong for your kids.  Looking at these pictures again makes me feel queasy for him all over again.  I'm so proud of how strong he was - what a brave little boy!

In the meantime, I think I have some thank you notes to write . . . one to Chick Fil A for sure - God knows they went above and beyond the call of duty!