Wednesday morning started off rainy, so I got up early to clean the house for our playgroup. We had planned to play in the sandbox when the group arrived here at 10am, but with the rain I needed to tidy up the indoors. Marla called shortly after I finished cleaning, offering that we hold the group at her house because she has more indoor space. At first I declined, saying we would be fine, but then I thought - why not? She offered. I would not have the post-playgroup cleaning hassle. And she was right - it's just a little cramped in here with so many people.
We headed over to Marla's at 9:30. The day was nice and turned sunny around 11, so nice that the kids were able to play outside for about 45 minutes on her backyard equipment. I enjoyed the conversation and sunshine, anticipating a quiet afternoon in the backyard like we had experienced on Monday.
Upon loading the girls in the car, however, I noticed that our rear right tire was almost completely flat. Argh! I knew the tires would need to be replaced within the year, but that was a shock. I was just glad we made it to Marla's house without a blow out. I slowly drove down the road about a half mile to a service station I remembered, all the while hoping they had an air pump (those things are not so common any more). Lucky me! I filled the tire up to its max PSI with the intention of driving very slowly to the Midas station near our flat. They had quoted me on the tires in January, so I knew they would have a set in stock.
We made it to the service station, they had the tires, and got us in right away. Lucky me again! (Warning: this trend does not hold.) I took the girls next door to Perkins for lunch while we waited. They had chocolate chip pancakes and ice cream. What the hell, I thought. It's not like the grilled cheese and french fries are any healthier. I had a mushroom swiss burger and a hot fudge sundae, commiserating with food. Upon finishing, we were stuffed and rather ready to go home and take a nap. But no.
The manager at Midas said it would take another 20 minutes to finish our car. I sat between Ilsa and Juliette in the waiting area and talked to Katka about a possible coffee break together when we got home. Then Ilsa fell forward - off of her chair - and hit the back of her head on the magazine table. I hung up on Katka to pick her up when I noticed blood on the floor. She was screaming, I was panicky as I tried to find the source of the blood, and the manager ran to get towels.
I found the cut, a one-inch laceration about two inches back from the top of her head, traversing the center part I had made for her two pigtails. Blood was everywhere - on my arms, my hands, my shirt and pants, dripping down her pigtails and soaking the back of her shirt. The floor was splattered, and I felt that mushroom swiss burger backing up inside my stomach. We went through three paper towels and a wad of medical gauze (they must have kept it on hand for if their mechanics had an emergency). The manager ordered four guys on our car and, like a slow motion pit crew, they put the tires on the car in about eight minutes so that I could get Ilsa to the hospital.
The University of Wisconsin hospital is about two miles from both our apartment and the service station, right on Keven's bus route, so I called him to see if he could meet us in the emergency room to take Juliette home. That way, I would only have to deal with Ilsa, not corral Juliette, too. He could. But the UW hospital is right next to the Veteran's Hospital. I thought it was all the same building, but now I know the difference because we went to the VA hospital first. Suck! I called information at the unattended front desk, told the operator that my daughter needed stitches, and she asked if Ilsa was a veteran. Crap! So I loaded the girls back in the car and drove over the hill to the non-vets hospital.
I picked the wrong entrance and had to walk through various corridors for about a half mile (Ilsa on my hip, Juliette holding my hand) to find the ER entrance. Keven arrived not five minutes later, and he and Juliette took the bus home. Ilsa was fine at this point, and the bleeding had stopped back at Midas. She occupied herself with various waiting room toys and PBS cartoons. We waited about an hour before we were shown to her room. There, a doctor examined her and a nurse applied numbing cream to her scalp. We had to wait 30 minutes before the cream took effect completely, after which point they planned to use skin staples to patch her up. Sounds so creepy! They assured me this would be the best method - a little painful, yes, but very quick.
However, while waiting for her skin to become numb, victims from a collision between a truck and a pedestrian arrived in two ambulances. They needed our room. Ilsa's bed was wheeled into the hallway, right near the registration desk and the ambulance entryway. Fun... I got to see the accident victims arrive on their gurneys. But I was not upset in the least about losing the room. Obviously other folks needed it more than Ilsa did. We waited another 15 minutes before they brought the suture cart and did the procedure right there in the hallway. Ilsa cried, but the doctor did not lie - the whole thing took about 30 seconds to complete. She now has four Frankenstein-looking staples right where her hair parts.
After receiving our discharge papers, we were home in only a few minutes. Ilsa was fine. I gave her Tylenol, and she and Juliette watched Toy Story before going to bed without incident. I missed my first night of ballet for this new session, which frustrated me, but I was too intent on having a beer and collapsing after what should have been a relatively quiet day at home.
We headed over to Marla's at 9:30. The day was nice and turned sunny around 11, so nice that the kids were able to play outside for about 45 minutes on her backyard equipment. I enjoyed the conversation and sunshine, anticipating a quiet afternoon in the backyard like we had experienced on Monday.
Upon loading the girls in the car, however, I noticed that our rear right tire was almost completely flat. Argh! I knew the tires would need to be replaced within the year, but that was a shock. I was just glad we made it to Marla's house without a blow out. I slowly drove down the road about a half mile to a service station I remembered, all the while hoping they had an air pump (those things are not so common any more). Lucky me! I filled the tire up to its max PSI with the intention of driving very slowly to the Midas station near our flat. They had quoted me on the tires in January, so I knew they would have a set in stock.
We made it to the service station, they had the tires, and got us in right away. Lucky me again! (Warning: this trend does not hold.) I took the girls next door to Perkins for lunch while we waited. They had chocolate chip pancakes and ice cream. What the hell, I thought. It's not like the grilled cheese and french fries are any healthier. I had a mushroom swiss burger and a hot fudge sundae, commiserating with food. Upon finishing, we were stuffed and rather ready to go home and take a nap. But no.
The manager at Midas said it would take another 20 minutes to finish our car. I sat between Ilsa and Juliette in the waiting area and talked to Katka about a possible coffee break together when we got home. Then Ilsa fell forward - off of her chair - and hit the back of her head on the magazine table. I hung up on Katka to pick her up when I noticed blood on the floor. She was screaming, I was panicky as I tried to find the source of the blood, and the manager ran to get towels.
I found the cut, a one-inch laceration about two inches back from the top of her head, traversing the center part I had made for her two pigtails. Blood was everywhere - on my arms, my hands, my shirt and pants, dripping down her pigtails and soaking the back of her shirt. The floor was splattered, and I felt that mushroom swiss burger backing up inside my stomach. We went through three paper towels and a wad of medical gauze (they must have kept it on hand for if their mechanics had an emergency). The manager ordered four guys on our car and, like a slow motion pit crew, they put the tires on the car in about eight minutes so that I could get Ilsa to the hospital.
The University of Wisconsin hospital is about two miles from both our apartment and the service station, right on Keven's bus route, so I called him to see if he could meet us in the emergency room to take Juliette home. That way, I would only have to deal with Ilsa, not corral Juliette, too. He could. But the UW hospital is right next to the Veteran's Hospital. I thought it was all the same building, but now I know the difference because we went to the VA hospital first. Suck! I called information at the unattended front desk, told the operator that my daughter needed stitches, and she asked if Ilsa was a veteran. Crap! So I loaded the girls back in the car and drove over the hill to the non-vets hospital.
I picked the wrong entrance and had to walk through various corridors for about a half mile (Ilsa on my hip, Juliette holding my hand) to find the ER entrance. Keven arrived not five minutes later, and he and Juliette took the bus home. Ilsa was fine at this point, and the bleeding had stopped back at Midas. She occupied herself with various waiting room toys and PBS cartoons. We waited about an hour before we were shown to her room. There, a doctor examined her and a nurse applied numbing cream to her scalp. We had to wait 30 minutes before the cream took effect completely, after which point they planned to use skin staples to patch her up. Sounds so creepy! They assured me this would be the best method - a little painful, yes, but very quick.
However, while waiting for her skin to become numb, victims from a collision between a truck and a pedestrian arrived in two ambulances. They needed our room. Ilsa's bed was wheeled into the hallway, right near the registration desk and the ambulance entryway. Fun... I got to see the accident victims arrive on their gurneys. But I was not upset in the least about losing the room. Obviously other folks needed it more than Ilsa did. We waited another 15 minutes before they brought the suture cart and did the procedure right there in the hallway. Ilsa cried, but the doctor did not lie - the whole thing took about 30 seconds to complete. She now has four Frankenstein-looking staples right where her hair parts.
After receiving our discharge papers, we were home in only a few minutes. Ilsa was fine. I gave her Tylenol, and she and Juliette watched Toy Story before going to bed without incident. I missed my first night of ballet for this new session, which frustrated me, but I was too intent on having a beer and collapsing after what should have been a relatively quiet day at home.
2 comments:
Yikes! I can't even imagine the stress.
That girl seems to be developing Uncle Monkeys ability to get in scraps and scrapes. Hope she, and you are feeling better.
Don't forget my mantra (stolen from Egyptian Stella Beer, who probably stole it from somewhere else)
That which does not kill us makes us stronger.
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