The First Cut is the Deepest

The boys and I woke up yesterday morning to an unexpected snowfall. We planned to have a relaxing, snowbound day at home, maybe go outside for a while to shovel snow and so Jack could burn off some energy. Things, to put it mildly, did not go according to plan.

I was in the bathroom, and I heard Jack start to cry as Steve called for me to come quick and bring a wet washcloth. Jack had been sitting on our bed watching TV with Steve, and he slid off like he usually does, but somehow, he managed to catch his ear on the corner of my nightstand, cutting it. I handed Steve the washcloth so he could apply pressure, and Steve told me to get dressed quickly in case we had to go to the hospital.

The hospital? I took a look at the cut on Jack's ear, about two inches long toward the top. It looked pretty deep, and it looked like he'd somehow managed to cut both the front and the back of the ear. When we got a better look at it later, it turned out that wasn't the case, but that it looked like it because the cut was so deep. In the worst places, he nearly sliced through it. Anyway, I took one look at it and agreed that we were going to the ER.

Steve went outside to clear off the car and get it warmed up. He had me get Jack ready and sent in a neighbor to help me. I was happy that the first person he found was Rich, who besides being a great guy, is a firefighter, so obviously very good in a crisis. Rich did everything I asked without any unneccesary questions, understanding that I just needed someone to help me out. He grabbed a shirt for Jack that buttoned up the front, for example, without asking a whole lot of fashion-related questions. And he did an outstanding job of grabbing snacks from the pantry. Rich isn't a dad yet, but rather a cool uncle. Cool uncles will include a box of raisins and a cereal bar in the bag of treats, but they tend to concentrate more on chocolate. This, of course, made Jack very happy.

Good thing, because it took quite a while to get to the hospital. The roads hadn't been cleared yet, so it was slow going.

Once we finally got to the ER and the doctor examined Jack's ear, I saw just how bad and how deep the cut was. I have no idea how he managed to cut his ear so badly in such a strange way. The examination hurt, and Jack cried, but all was well because the hospital had a DVD player in the room and we had Elmo's World.

The really hard part came, of course, when it was time to close up the wound. The nurses strapped Jack into a papoose board, which pissed him off. The shots to numb the area hurt too, and Jack was so freaked out by that and being strapped down that he screamed the entire time the doctor sewed up his ear. He screamed so hard that he actually burst blood vessels in his face. Steve and I took turns being right next to his face so he could see us and Roary. We talked about how we were going to watch Elmo later. How we'd have pizza for dinner that night. How we'd play Dora The Explorer and Jack would be Boots, Mommy would be Dora, and Daddy would be Swiper. That he was doing great and was very brave.

We both smiled and were cheerful the whole time, but good Yoda, was it a brave front. My poor baby was scared and in pain. I've read that after you have a child, your heart is forever outside your body, and it's really true. If I had the choice, I'd have had them stitch up both of my ears, with no numbing, and I wouldn't have cried a bit if I could have just spared my sweet little Cubaloo.

When it was all done, Jack had about a dozen stitches. They put a ridiculous amount of gauze on his ear (pictures to come). As soon as they unwrapped him from the board and gave him a sticker and a popsicle, he was completely fine. Smiling, even, and intending to hold us to our talk of pizza and playing Dora.

In fact, Jack would recount this entire experience in considerably less detail. Jack would tell you, "Ear boo boo. No touch it. Doctor fix boo boo. Jack get sticker and popsicle. Pink! Yummy!"