At any rate we were on schedule! My four year old was dressed with her hair done and her teeth brushed. She was making her bed and we were on track to be all ready and out the door in thirty minutes, give or take. We had grocery shopping to do and a workout to attend.
Alexa decided she was done nursing so I put her down and stepped into the closet to grab my clothes. I saw Alexa stumble and fall. I saw her face hit the metal bed frame. She immediately started crying. I reached over, picked her up and turned her over.
I knew right away she needed stitches. She had an awful gash from her nose through her lip. There was already blood pouring everywhere.
Five minutes later we were in the car speeding toward Alexa's pediatrician, who was expecting us. I had thrown clothes on both Alexa and me, but other than grabbing my keys on the way out I really hadn't done anything else to get ready for the day.
The pediatrician took one look and said he could not glue it back together and that a cut lip meant a plastic surgeon. She told me to drive her an hour away to the nearest children's hospital. he said he would call ahead and let them know we were coming.
Drek wanted to come but his work is in the opposite direction and I thought speed was important.
By the time we got to the E.R. Alexa had stopped bleeding and crying. It was only when I was getting Ash out of the car that I realized she didn't have shoes. Sigh. At least her hair was done. Mine sure wasn't.
I carried both the girls inside and was delighted to see a fairly empty waiting room. Right away we were taken back to see a triage nurse who asked my questions and glanced at Alexa. I told her what the pediatrician said and she informed me that plastic surgery meant full sedation. That meant an I.V. That means Alexa's stomach needed to be empty. Since she had eaten seconds before she fell, we needed to wait another three hours before any procedure took place.
Four hours later we were finally allowed out of the waiting room and into a hospital room shared by three other sick people. Alexa had been happy and cheerful for the first three hours, but now she was hungry and I wouldn't feed her. She was screaming. Ash was tired, bored and hungry. I was starving, thirsty and miserable. There are few places I hate worse than hospitals.
After another thirty minutes the doctor finally saw us. She examined Alexa's injury. She announced she needed stitches both on her face and the inside of her mouth, but that it was a clean wound and her teeth didn't appear injured. She said she could stitch it up with a local anesthetic, or a plastic surgeon could stitch it up with full sedation. This conversation took place over a desperately hungry, screaming baby. I asked what the difference in scars would be: in five years? Nothing. She's a year old. All scars will disappear. The doctor could be ready in thirty minutes. It would take another ten minutes simply to alert the plastic surgeon he was needed. It could be hours before he was ready.
So I opted for the local anesthetic. They strapped Alexa down and a nurse held her head. I I stroked her hair and tried to sing to her while the doctor put a very long needle into her face. Alexa SCREAMED. She screamed so hard she was shaking. It took thirty minutes for the doctor to stitch her up. Alexa screamed the whole time.
The second she was done and unstrapped I attempted to have her nurse. The doctor had commented that the inside cut was pretty bad and might prevent her from nursing. The doctor didn't realize Alexa was born a champion nurser. She ate with zero hesitation and zero problems. Three minutes later she was dead asleep.
After an hour long car ride we arrived back at home. I was finally able to eat breakfast at four in the afternoon.
Alexa is recovering. She should be fine. I hope she is too young to have any residual trauma. I know my trauma will stick with me for much longer than her scar will last.