Another day, another urgent care visit

My parents were kind enough to watch my younger boys today so I could go to the doctor. I was gone for about an hour and a half (lots of waiting - always a party). When I returned to their home, I was quickly informed that while my Dad and Hewitt were out for a walk, Hewitt tripped on the sidewalk and split his chin open. Umm, deja vu? (For those of who may not read my blog regularly, Tosh fell and split his chin open in July).

I asked my mom if any of her neighbors were nurses, and we quickly found a kind grandmotherly RN who gave us a second opinion: "Yes. Needs stitches."

I should mention that my brother Mark was also at my parents' house when I arrived. He is in town on business and was stopping by for a short visit so we all could have lunch together. So, with Rob 30 min. away, I dragged my poor brother along for the thrilling adventure to Urgent Care. Hewitt was absolutely fine (no crying) until we walked in the door. He screamed the entire time we were there (walking down the hall, waiting for the nurse, waiting for the doctor, etc.). The doctor tried to explain the entire procedure to Hewitt and kept reiterating that "holding completely still will make things go a lot easier." My brother and I were finally able to convince the doctor that reasoning may not be very effective with this particular child, and that we were probably better off just holding him down and getting it over with as soon as possible. Besides my almost fainting (had to get on my knees a couple of times), Hewitt wetting his pants (to his defense, he did warn us that he had to go), and one stitch that had to be re-stitched, everything went as good as can be expected. I'm never prepared to hear a child scream such things as , "Mom, help me, I'm scared!" These moments are dreadful and sad. I would always rather be sick or hurt than one of my kids. About halfway through the procedure, I had the thought to start counting and that seemed to calm Hewitt down and distract him some. We counted to 100 and he said, "I want to count again, and count faster!"

I was glad that I dragged my brother along for the support. While there I had a flashback of falling off of our swing set when I was three; Mark carried me up our back stairs and inside to my mom and I ended up with eight stitches of my own. I also remember screaming and crying at the hospital and wishing my mom could make all the nurses and doctors go away.

It took Hewitt about an hour to be his happy self again (as is consistent with his personality; it usually takes him about an hour to cool off after getting really upset). Grandma provided his favorite ice cream (and my brother's and my favorite fried chicken for lunch) and sure enough, Hewitt's cute and devilish smile has returned...