I'm always surprised by how tough Ms Z can be. She's been staying in Rockville with Baba and Dee for the week with her cousin T. I get a call from Baba who sounded a bit frayed. "Zola got a cut on her head, and we think she might need a doctor to look at it."
Sigh. How many times have you heard that from overprotective grandparents? But Baba's got a pretty good track record, so, fine, we'll meet you at the walk-in care place.
They were stampeding around the house, and Z managed to trip in just the right way, falling perfectly right into an exposed bolt on the end of her bed. So she opened up a deep, crescent-shaped, 3/4" gouge on her head, just above her hairline.
When we showed up, she was draped in surgical gauze, the nurse cleaning her up, and she quite subdued. There had been whispers of "stitches" earlier, and whatever those were, she didn't want anything to do with them.
Eventually the doctor came in to look at the gash. "I don't want stitches" Z said.
"Oh, we'll use staples!" assured the doctor.
So with the nurse holding her on one side, and mr on the other, and her cousin T looking on with her mouth hanging open, the doctor proceeded to staple Z's head shut. She took 5 staples before she showed any reaction at all--she kind of winced a bit.
It must've affected me more than her, because when it was all over, I picked her up and held her. My arm was kind of shaking. "Stop shivering, Papa," she chided.
No comments:
Post a Comment