Monday, December 22, 2008

Doctor Patient Switheroo

After 5-and-a-half years of children, we had our first bout of emergency stitches.  Blueberry.  Eggplant's fault. Technically Rhubarb's fault, actually.  

Eggplant constructed a rudimentary slide down his bed in his room; Blueberry was sliding down while Egglant was embellishing said slide; Eggplant walked towards slide with a large board with a metal edge; Rhubarb danced into Eggplant; Board hit Blueberry's forehead; Blood everywhere; Mamma taught kids a new explicative. The forehead bleeds a lot! Plus, besides the gash, there was somehow a nice deep puncture right into a vein. Luckily, this was Blueberry, future Doctor Blueberry. After the initial pain and shock dissolved, she realized, quite excitedly, that we were going to take her to the hospital emergency room. What better way to research her chosen profession. She was thrilled. On the way to the hospital, she exclaimed, " red blood cells are really rushing out!" While the doctor was putting in the stitches, she kindly explained to the doctor that the ribs protect the heart and lungs. She did not even balk when the doctor suggested she lie in the papoose for the stitches. "Mamma, do all children have to go in the papoose?" When I confirmed that most did, she was pleased to participate in this little medical experience. My favorite quote from the evening came when she saw the suture and exclaimed, "What even is that thing?"

Later that night, Blueberry used the experience to her own benefit. We had let Rhubarb know Blueberry would need to sleep with us that night so we could keep an eye on her. Blueberry responded, "Well the man (the one holding her head) actually whispered in my ear 'sleep with them every night'."

Later that night, over dinner, Eggplant innocently asked me, "Mamma, what does sh*t mean? You said that a lot when blood was squirting out of Blueberry's head." Oops. 

Later in the week, Blueberry, my little nerd who can remember words like acidophillus, but fails to nail the "cool-kid" phrases, asked, "Mamma, what even is shut (meaning sh*t)?"

A few days later we were traveling to visit Granma and Granpa for a pre-Christmas party.  Luckily, Granpa's daughter-in-law is a nurse and offered to remove the sutures.  This was the happiest day of Blueberry's life.  She watched in the mirror and chatted and chatted with the nurse, regaling her with the whole story of the stitches.

Blueberry chats with the nurse during suture removal.

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