So I got a call on my cell phone at work. (I had just finished recharging it, and turned it on) Pepper Mill calling, to tell me that MilliCal was going to the emergency room.
Don’t worry – she’s okay. Right now we’re at home, and she’s playing with the kitten. But I was freaked.
MilliCal and her friends were playing in the woods beside our house, building a fort, I think. Apparently she heard a ruckus, and ran over to see Harley in an altercation with a chipmunk. Harley is one of our neighbor’s cats. Very friendly, but lately with a penchant for going after the local wildlife. I found her playing with a mouse a couple of nights ago.
MilliCal, kind-hearted animal-lover that she is, tried to break it up.
And got bitten. By the chipmunk. Lotsa blood.
MilliCal freaked*. Pepper Mill cleaned her up, but then reflected that we had a problem here – it would’ve been better if Harley had bitten her. Harley’s had her rabies shots. Pepper called the doctor, and was advised to take MilliCal in to the emergency room for inspection, treatment, and maybe some shots.
I met them at the hospital. MilliCal had been very nervous, I was told. Now she was bored. Bored, bored, bored. She had a single Band-Aid on her finger, and didn’t want to talk about it. She was tired of waiting. We waited and waited and waited. She hadn’t brought a book. I got a women’s magazine from a waiting room. Someone had drawn a moustache on Salma Hayek. I gave MilliCal a pen and told her to draw a beard on to match it. MilliCal started going through and drawing moustaches on everyone, and coloring hair in blue. Soon she got bored with this, too.
They called us in to get our specifics. we answered questions. I gave MilliCal a couple of sheets of polaroid from my pocket and let her play with them.
We went back to the waiting room – the “Fast Track” room. It’s a good thing we didn’t go to the slow room. We played with the toys for the pre-schoolers. We read the toddler books. We got bored.
Finally, they called us in to the ER. We went to a chilly, spare room with one chair and a movable bed. We waited. And waited, and waited. I started telling MilliCal the Sherlock Holmes story “The Man with the Twisted Lip.”
Finally, after 2 1/2 hours, they came in to treat MilliCal. The doctor unwrapped the Gand-Aid and got the story.
“Where’s the cut?” he asked.
“In the wrinkle,” replied MilliCal. The skin under the BandAid had started to wrinkle up, obscuring the wound. He examined it.
“The good news,” he says, “Is that she doesn’t need any injections.”
It turns out that chipmunks, not being carnivores or omnivores, aren’t vectors for rabies. (Bats eat insects) This is an immense relief to all concerned. Only we wish someone had mentioned it three hours ago. We had horrific images of series of gut-wrenching rabies injections. MilliCal was looking forward to missing school on account of it.
as it was, she got another cleaning and some Bacitracin and a fresh Band aid. we got to fork over a hefty deductible. (“Why?” asked Pepper Mill. “They want us to think we got our money’s worth,” I replied.)
Pepper Mill and MilliCal went home. I picked up Chinese food (we hadn’t eaten, and everyone was hungry). As I drove up, I saw Harley in our yard. Chasing mice.
*MilliCal maintains that it was Pepper Mill who lost it first, which made her then freak out.