Baby’s first ER visit

Well now we’ve been to the ER. My poor boy.

The picture displays the scene of the crime (of course I took this just now, not then. I clarify for the odd internet crazy person :)).  Noah was pushing this walking toy around – and around – and around – in glee, because he is really focused on getting walking now.  And Carl was taking a (rare) coffee break upstairs and I was talking to him when Noah tried to walk and reach down over the walking toy to get one of the spinny bits at the same time, and then the toy rolled forward and he felt down and went boom on his hands and tummy. And shrieked, which is unusual but not so unusual that I thought much of it, especially since he was heading into the morning nap.

So I picked him up to soothe him. And then I felt that feeling you really don’t want to feel on your foot, which is drops of something warm and sticky and – yes, blood-like.

So I checked his mouth and it was fine. And then I looked down his legs and his ankle, right above the heel, was split right open in a cut about 2 cm long and a fine bloody mess.  Carl looked and we were both: yup, stitches. 

He caught his ankle under the dishwasher there, where it’s an aluminum panel. I’d checked it for finger-slicing properties when Noah started crawling and decided it would pass but apparently it really is sharp enough to do something like that if you slam your foot up into it. Although the chances of that happening again are slim, this is the last time it will look normal as we are going to strap a few layers of duct tape under it there, unless we think of something better before tonight.

Carl grabbed the first aid kit (was I ever glad he happened to be right there) and got a sterile pad over it and I kept the pressure on for a bit (Noah stopped crying) and then he and I wrapped it up and grabbed up the diaper bag and the Ergo and went straight to the ER. The bleeding had pretty well stopped by then (it never got through the last layer of gauze) but it was really open and, well, frankly, I just wanted to get right there and get my baby better.

The ER was of course a bit of a zoo. Carl parked while I went in.  I settled Noah in the Ergo and stood up while waiting to hit triage, which turned out to be a mistake as the triage chairs (labelled, but it took me a while to notice) were the placeholders in line, so we ended up two people back from where we might have been.  But it kept him really calm and he couldn’t reach his ankle from there, so that was a good.  We finally got triaged and went into the waiting room to find like 15 people in there, so Carl and I decided he might as well get back to work – he would have stayed for sure, but it didn’t seem to make sense for us both to stay given that it wasn’t (I thought) the kind of emergency that means big decisions, and I felt pretty ok given that, you know, my baby hacked through his ankle.

After that we actually only ended up waiting about 2 hours, in a variety of waiting rooms, which for a Toronto emerg even on a Thursday morning when doctors’ offices are open, was still pretty good. We did bypass a couple of people also there for stitches who came in ahead of us though, so I think babies must get bumped - which is very helpful for primary caregivers and probably cuts down on the wailing a bit.  

Noah was amazing; he fussed a bit mostly due to overshooting his nap and because his ankle hurt, but then I nursed him and he fell asleep in the Ergo.  I cannot say enough good about this whole babywearing thing, because it not only helped my arms but that really was his cosy/comfy spot and he nestled into it gratefully. I wasn’t really prepared for a lot of breastfeeding – I had a normal top on and the diaper bag was minus a receiving blanket ’cause I’d put it in the wash this morning, but I didn’t care. One guy did have trouble not looking at my tit, especially when Noah would occasionally whip off it to look around when a pager went off, but oh well, I hope he got a thrill. :) If you can’t nurse in emerg, I don’t know where you can.

I had to wake him up for the exam, so he was dopey and smiley at the doctor and the nurse.  This is where I found out the tendon was fine, which was both a relief and a bit of a scare since I hadn’t actually thought of the tendon possibly being nicked or cut until then.  That was in a way my worst moment: knowing the stitches were coming but also being blindsided about the injury that might have been. I’m glad for doctors that check all this out though. I realized at that point that nursing might have slowed a surgery down if he’d needed one, but it had never crossed my mind. Something to remember in the future though (well hopefully not).

Then the nurse really gently and warmly “bunnied” Noah which meant swaddling him with his foot sticking out, and he smiled at her the whole time. I was starting to wonder if he’d brained himself too until we rolled him onto his tummy and he got very upset. I had to help hold him down (I’d seen that coming but was glad for the swaddling) and that was hard. But they froze the spot and he just cried rather than shriek after that took effect, and then the ER doctor did the 3 – THREE! – stitches lickity-split and put a band-aid over and gave me the rules for washing/polysporin/etc., and we were done.  Noah has to have them taken out in 10 days – they couldn’t do the dissolving kind because the ankle gets flexed so much that they might have torn too early.

As soon as I got Noah into the Ergo he subsided into little indignant hiccupy sobs now and then and by the time we got out of the doors he was back to himself, although very curious about the way his ankle didn’t feel right. Carl picked us up and we came home. I fed Noah lunch and then held him and he was wriggly because all morning! without playing!

So I put him down and he went straight for the walking toy and started in on the same living room – kitchen – living room circuit, at high speed and high glee.  Obviously his powers of association are weak, or else he has mucho cajones. (Can you have “mucho” cajones?)

I, of course, followed him around like a crazy smothering mother while repeating to myself that you can’t tie your kids down for 18 years even when you want to.

Quite a morning.

Also in the ER were three mums of children in their teens, all of whom had sports-related injuries. I realized that it just probably does not ever end, these medical things.  I did not know really how I or the system would react to Noah getting hurt like that and I am glad to find out that past first-aid training and the desire to be calm for Noah’s sake trumped any other reactions. We were rarely injured as kids – at least that we went to the hospital for – but when we were, my mum often would at some point get angry or hysterical (to give her credit, usually once it was clear things were going to be okay).  I so far haven’t felt the slightest lick of either of those reactions and I’m a bit relieved about that. It probably helps to have dealt with a fair number of things in my work with kids at other points in my life, but still. Gratitude for these things is abounding right now.