I came home from Open Connections and heard the screams before the front door was even open. Blood covered towels were strewn about the kitchen, the Damn Husband was flopped on the couch looking done in and poor Nigel was inconsolable. His chin was swollen and scraped raw and his mouth was bloody. With a closer inspection I saw that his tongue had an inch and a half jagged cut with two flapping edges. My stomach tightened and I went into full mommy mode – tried to get ice on the wound, called my pediatrician’s off-hours number, called Colleen while waiting for them to call back. Colleen has been there several times with her boys, she is my voice of reason. You can’t sew a tongue was Colleen’s input. It heals better on its own because kids just spend their energy picking at the stitches and making things worse. When the office nurse finally called me back and I described his tongue she told me I must take him to the ER for stitches. He can have no food or drink because they will need to sedate him to stitch the tongue. I keep thinking of Colleen. You can’t stitch a tongue. I call my sister Barb, a charge nurse at the local hospital who is unfortunately in New Mexico on vacation. Barb gives appropriate long distance sympathy. I call Amy, a friend and ER nurse but she is not home. Michael and I look at each other, both seeing dollar signs due to our lousy insurance plan. We can’t take the chance and we pile into the car.
A bored, unhappy Nigel walks the hospital halls with daddy.
waiting and waiting
Nigel fell because he was standing on a chair and dove off landing his chin on the nearby kitchen stair. What was he trying to do? Fly? Only Nigel knows. I think of the hundreds of times I have said Nigel, chairs aren’t for standing. I have tried quick responses, no standing, lengthy diatribes explaining the dangers (you could fall and split your tongue in half!) My husband is fond of loudly toning Nigel, NO, which is equally ineffective. In the time it takes me to walk to the living room to get something for Mikaela, Nigel has pulled a chair over to the sink and sat in dishwater. For about a week it worked to lay the chairs down after we ate but he quickly learned to upright them again. My boy loves climbing. We go to the park often for climbing and set up safe climbing zones throughout the house but Nigel prefers the riskier climbs- walking along the top of the couch, climbing up dresser handles, climbing up shelves, swinging on refrigerator doors, balancing on stacked trucks with slippery wheels.
He looks pretty good here, doesn’t he? For a boy with a bloody split tongue who hasn’t eaten for hours and is up way passed his bedtime and bored to death in a hospital waiting room. I think he is trying to say, Mommy, call someone, get us out of here.
After three hours of waiting the PA sees us. Verdict: you can’t sew a tongue. Apparently the tongue, being the amazing muscle that it is, will eventually rejoin its gaping edges and heal on its own. She gives us a cleaning protocol, food restrictions and a scary list of warning signs to look for that signify an infection and sent us on our way. Next time my only call will be to Colleen.
At 10:30 my tired tribe finally head upstairs to bed. I go to sleep thinking about the Continuum Concept and how it relates to my son. I count out the list of positive experiences I have been able to give him starting at ten months and lament the ones I could not offer him. Will it be enough?
