Allow me to digress just a bit. My Honey, in all his wisdom, decided that a nice, shiny, new pocket knife would be a GREAT Christmas gift for each of the boys. The boys, of course, were ecstatic to receive such a "grown up" gift. After the knives had been opened and thoroughly inspected, we explained to the boys that while the knives were theirs, they were not to get them out or use them without supervision. We had every intention of spending some time discussing proper handling of knives and knife usage but had not yet gotten around to it. On January 18th, we discovered just what a mistake that was. Apparently, knowing those knives were so close at hand and not having had the opportunity to use them proved too much for my little munchkins.
That morning, during a stop at WallyWorld, Muffin Man had used a bit of his Christmas money to buy himself a new Bionicle. It was around 3:30 P.M. when I finally told him that when all his things were picked up and his chores were complete he could open it. I headed into my bedroom to change clothes and freshen up for a job interview I had scheduled for 4:30. I had started curling my hair and partially undressed when suddenly, from the opposite end of the house, came "The Scream." You Moms know what I'm talking about. It wasn't the scream of joy that should have come from opening a new toy. It wasn't the scream of "Leave me alone! It's mine!" that comes when his big brother tries to take over the new toy before it is even out of the box. No, this was the pure scream of terror and it was coming in stereo, from both of my boys!
Dropping everything, I sprinted to the opposite end of the house only to find Muffin Man, with his hands cupped and FULL of blood, more blood streaming down his arms and dripping onto the carpet, (Did I mention we just got new carpet?) blood sprayed on the furniture, and bedspread, blood everywhere! There was so much blood I was not even able to see where it was coming from. I quickly grabbed him and pulled him into the kitchen where I had him lay down and then I just started squeezing his hand with both of mine in an attempt to stop the bleeding. I told Little Man to call 911. Both of the boys were hysterical! Little Man was so upset that he couldn't get the call completed. He kept accidentally hanging up. Muffin Man was crying hysterically and alternately screaming "Dad's going to Kill me!", "I ruined your new carpet!" and "My thumb is gooooone!". Needless to say the scene was chaotic. I was struggling to get both of them to calm down and failing miserably. Little Man eventually got through to 911 and immediately started screaming again. I finally got him to hold the phone to my ear and I was able to let the dispatcher know what was going on and that we would need the paramedics. After a few moments discussion with her, she said to me, " the paramedics are only a few blocks away and should be there any moment."
It was at this moment that I came to my senses and realized that I was not dressed! Remember, I had been in my room changing clothes for an interview when all hell broke loose. So here I am, squatting, in nothing but my granny pants and a small camisole, covered in blood, and unable to let loose of my son's hand! Can we say AWKWARD? I calmly explained to the dispatcher that I was unwilling to have 8 firemen, most likely in their mid 20's and good looking, walk into my house and see me in all my glory half dressed on the kitchen floor. I told her that I would need to put the phone down for a moment while I had Little Man help me get my pants on. And that is just what I did. Let me tell you, we were just in time! As Little Man pulled my pants up, the fire engine drove up to the front of my house! WHEW! Disaster averted! Thirty seconds sooner and I would have been caught with my pants on the ground! NOT a pretty sight!
Once the fire department arrived, I was able to allow them to take over Muffin Man's care and I was able to finish dressing and call My Honey and let him know to meet us at the hospital. My Mom and Dad came over and my Mom drove with us to the hospital while my Dad took Little Man to their house. In the end, Muffin Man got 8 stitches around the base of his thumb and we were told that he was VERY lucky that the tendon was not involved. The cut was literally right up to it but did not involve it. YIKES!
So in the end, all is well that ends well. Muffin Man's hand has healed wonderfully and he has full use of it once again. Both of the boys learned a very valuable lesson and we all have a new found, healthy, respect for knives. There was more than enough guilt to go around. My Honey and I for ever having bought the knives in the first place. For not having spent the time teaching knife usage before then. For not putting the knives in a less accessible place. Muffin man for using the knife even though he knew he wasn't supposed to. For getting blood all over our new carpet. (P.S. Stain Master treatments really are worth the extra money!)Little Man for encouraging his little brother to use the knife in the first place. (We found this out later!) For doing what he knew better than to do resulting in a really scary situation. There were other lessons learned that day. My boys learned the importance of staying calm and quickly reacting in an emergency. They learned about putting pressure on a would and how freaking out only makes getting otherwise simple tasks, like dialing a phone, nearly impossible.
I can now look back at the whole ordeal and laugh but I really have no desire to repeat any of it any time soon. I know injuries are pretty much inevitable but I hope it is a good long time before we have to face another. And I hope to never again have to face the possibility of 8 firemen walking into my house and finding me with my pants on the ground.
Below is one of the photos of the wound. It is not for the faint of heart. Enjoy!
2 comments:
I am faint of heart, I can't look at the picture anymore.
Rachel
wow, what a story ! I have 3 boys (and a daughter) and as i write this there is murder and torture going on upstairs which I am trying to ignore, don't usually manage and end up blowing a fuse.
hope the injury recovers quickly! Reminds me of the time my son fractured his wrist falling out of a wardrobe, I could not get the doctor to understand how this happened, clearly if he had children at all they must have been girls.
How lucky to get all those firemen turning up at your door, we just get an ambulance with a couple of middle aged folk!!
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