not name of a cat
not my sides after laughing
stitches – in forehead

My husband, Ike-a-saurus and I spent an exciting evening in the ER Saturday night, having said tiny dinosaur's head stitched up. I guess it was only a matter of time, but still. Yikes. Turns out that when you fall into the TV stand (or speaker – we're still not sure), you will gash a giant hole in the middle of your forehead that will squirt blood like a horror movie and freak the SHIT out of your mom.

Once we got to the ER, though, an amazing thing happened. Ike-a-saurus was just another bloodied kid. We weren't immediately taken to a room. We had to wait like everyone else. And when we got a room, it didn't have a fancy Philips monitor, just a crappy Nellcor that we didn't even use. Ike was in the ER as – wait for it – A REGULAR KID. My husband and I were almost giddy as we sat in the waiting room all, "look at us! We don't have crowds of doctors rushing around us! We are watching the Disney channel and complaining about waiting! High five!"

Yes, yes, we are insane.

We walked in the door at 7 and were home just after 11. The shortest ER trip we've ever had.

Not that I'm condoning stitches, I'm just saying that when the FREAKING OUT OVER A GIANT HEAD WOUND subsided, I was all, what? We are regular people? What?

Being regular only lasted a couple of days, though, because this morning we had our re-up with the Texas medicaid waiver program we're on. Long meeting wherein our case manager told me that this time (maybe even this exact day) two years ago the nurses in the ICU told her they didn't know if Ike was going to make it. Yes. Thanks for bringing that up. She also assured me that the two of us met in the hospital, of which I have absolutely no recollection.

So, after those fun reminiscences we spent a couple of hours talking about lungs and airways and failure to thrive, and the universe put me back in my place.

Not so much regular.

But you know what? I'm cool with that. After everything that's happened, I'll take today over ANY day. Even if I have to clean stitches and keep tiny fingers from poking extra holes in the hole that's already there.

Wednesday is the two year trachiversary. It's a day we are going to celebrate, not cry over. A day that saved Ike's life, even if it caused a few years of epic hardship.

Nothing like a whack in the head to make you realize how lucky you are!

8 thoughts on “Stitches

  1. Great to hear the “normal” news. You, Ike, and your entire family are our heroes, our beacons of hope. We hope to become regular people like you someday.
    I’m sending some healing and non-scarring thoughts to Ike.


  2. And just let Ike know that chicks dig the scars. (But maybe don’t tell him for a few years yet, so as not to swell his head.)


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