Lucy’s First Scar
Our weeks seem to fall into a particular routine. Monday, Lucy goes to school and I get organized for the week. I also accomplish most of my tasks. Some carry over to Tuesday, during which we both typically stay home for the entire day. Wednesday, we visit Stokes County. Thursday, we have an adventure and ballet in the afternoon. And Friday is fair game. But I’m generally useless by this part of the week.
Today we attempted to return to story time for the first time in months. All of Lucy’s friends from school go. And we used to go. But then I was in a free fall of book fines because this branch is fairly far away and DVDs are due back in a week. So miss one week and then the next thing you know, you have thirty dollars in fines! Why are all of the DVDs next to the play house? It’s not unlike the Dora and Barbie toys smack dab in the middle of the cereal aisle at Harris Teeter. Ugh!!! So we started visiting the Central Library at other times and I pretended like story time no longer happened.
This morning Lucy mentioned that Wells would be at story time, so we got ready for the third one. I consistently told her that we were late. It had already started. It was far away. We weren’t going to make it. But there was no urgency to get in the car, just like every single day of my life. (Which actually explains why we stay home on Tuesdays.) And we pulled up at exactly noon. We saw a friend across the parking lot who was headed home for lunch and a nap. Then we headed to the book return and to look at books.
A hop, skip and thud later, I realized that Lucy had managed to careen into the corner of the brick entrance and was on the ground. Seeing the corner and hearing the thud, I was certain there was blood. I threw our books and my purse down and picked her up. For the first time in months, she wore pigtails and perhaps they held in the blood that soon started to fall. I put the books in the return and carried her into the bathroom. No public facility has paper towels in Greensboro. So I washed my hands and I put her in the car. No one wants to be around a bloody child. At least I had enough sense to call her pediatrician’s office. I had no idea where to take her.
By the time I talked to the nurse, I was sobbing. I told her that my daughter had hit her head on a brick wall and there was a considerable amount of blood. Then I said, I’m pregnant, hungry, tired and overwhelmed. I just don’t know what to do. She told me to come to their office.
I was feeling incredibly anxious this morning. Maybe it was my early wake-up and the time change. Or I think I’m not able to really get comfortable anymore. Or I have no idea what is making those noises in my house at 5 am. Or maybe it was our broken heater. Or the feeling that house and yard work NEVER ends. Or that Henry is in California for eight days. Regardless, a good hard sob actual made me feel better.
Lucy was crying. But at this point I think it was because she didn’t want to go to the doctor’s office. And then she stopped after a little while and only started again once she figured out we were there.
I had pulled myself together by the time we arrived. I think that Lucy obviously handled it better than I did. Granted maybe that’s because she couldn’t see the blood.
I am the very last person you want around during a medical emergency. During my NECTAC days, someone had an asthma attack in my office and I was trapped behind my desk. I think I called the ER. Then I definitely called the ER when Cherie passed out on her face flat as a board. Another instance where I had to call the ER and completely freaked out. A couple of weeks ago, I was fine taking my mom to the ER because her leg looked terrible. I was afraid she might die from a blood clot or lose her leg. But she appeared to be totally normal, so I was never in fear of losing it.
Lucy’s pediatrician came in and suggested a staple. I was not really in favor of that idea. It seemed awful and I was just like who cares about a scar on the back of her head. She’s a girl. But eventually I was overruled by another doctor and a nurse.
Fortunately she only needed one staple. They put her in a headlock and then she said, “Ow!” like she was annoyed. Brushing her hair or teeth is way more traumatic than the staple. I admitted to the doctor that it was probably more upsetting to me than Lucy. They were very kind to me. They gave me a ginger ale and said I didn’t have to participate. I tried to be supportive by completely ignoring what was going on. Ugh. I just don’t want to be around when they remove it. But I guess I have to be.
After the staple incident, I promised Lucy that we would go to Chik-fil-a because she often says she wants to go there. When we walked in she said, “I want a hamburger and Leka wants nuggets.” I reminded her that they do not have hamburgers at Chik-fil-a.
I guess I should have taken her to Burger King like my mom did after I fell on a Dr. Pepper bottle in kindergarten and cut the palm of my hand. Mom reminded me of that incident via text. Perhaps that’s why it took me so long to agree to the staple. Maybe.
One of my goals for March was to have Lucy’s hair cut. The doctor did trim a little hair from around the wound. I told them about my goal, but that was not what I had in mind. Granted I did realize that Lucy potentially has curly hair with the right cut and a little product. Look at how the blood curled her hair right up! She and her dad always talk about their curly hair. They are in complete denial.