My 2 year old daughter had an accident while I was putting the DVD in to Fox and Hound tonight at 9.
I hear the thump, and the “Daaaaadddddy!?!” The blood is just pouring out of her mouth. I hold her apply pressure with a damp cloth and when the bleeding dies down I take a look with a flashlight.
She’s got a big nasty cut on the inside of the top lip, right in the middle. That thing that hangs down in the middle that attaches your lip to the gum is severed. She must have caught the edge of the futon.
Off to the emergency room we go. “Let her get off easy,” is my mantra.
It keeps oozing. We get to the room and eventually the Dr. comes along. She’s a nice competant looking readhead. “She’ll need a stitch or two to tack it down and make it heal properly. Otherwise it will just keep getting opened up.”
We got three choices: They can put her out, they can give her an IV and some stuff to zone her out, or they can hold her down, give her the novocaine and just do it.
Being a believer in minimizing potentially dangerous narcotics, we take the last option.
She gets an assistant and some tools. They wrap her in a sheet and attach her to an immobilizer, while she screams and looks at me with pleading terror.
“Old MacDonald had a farm, E I E I O,” I sing, holding her hands tight so they can’t break free.
She gives her the novocaine, and my daughter struggles and cries, while I sing.
The cuts worse than I thought, and when they lift back the lip it bleeds and she coughs while she cries.
The first stitch goes quickly, but the second’s a bitch. It’s right where the lip meets the gum, so there’s no space to work and my daughter’s fighting as best she can.
The Doc makes a couple of jabs at it, but can’t quite get it. After anothe minute goes by with my daughter struggling and crying in terror, me shaking while I’m singing and the Dr. innefectually trying to get that second stitch in, I’m starting to wonder.
“Come on,” I’m thinking. “Just do it. It ain’t that tough. Bend the top of the lip back and the edge of the cut will stick out and you can nail it.”
She jabs again, and can’t quite get it. I’m thinking “Jesus. I could do it.” Though I probably couldn’t. I’m sure it’s harder than it looks.
Finally she bends the lip back just like I thought she should and gets the stitch. A minute later I got my daughter out of the restraint, and she’s holding my neck in a death grip between wracking sobs.
We get the preventative antibiotics and we’re outta ther.
She’s asleep, and I write this.
Here I am.