Gus's latest adventure

I typed this up on Sunday but was waiting for photos to go along with it. I am a lazy, lazy woman. Here's the dish:

Today while I was making lunch, Gus was sitting in his booster seat at
the table and decided to stand up and turn around to mess with the
patio door. I heard him, and turned around, and told him to sit down.
I glanced back down at what I was doing, and heard him hit the floor.
Gus is just one of those kids who is constantly getting hurt. He's
very accident-prone, I guess you could say. So him bashing his mouth
on something and having a bloody lip is not cause for concern around
here.

I went over, scooped him up, and snuggled him, while lecturing him on
the dangers of standing up on chairs. A minute later, I did the
standard check to be sure all of his teeth are still in place and
realized that he was bleeding a lot more than usual. I wiped the blood
away and checked his mouth and realized that his lower lip was split
way open. Like, to the point where I could see inner lip stuff that I
did not care to see. I informed Oliver that I thought he needed
stitches, and we debated over who would take him in. It was already
'one of those days'!

I took him first to the Urgent Care Center, because I didn't feel like
waiting for hours at the ER, even though, from experience (when Simon
got his eyelid ripped open by Grissom's razor-sharp puppy teeth during
a play session) I figured they'd send me to the ER due to it being a
facial wound and scarring possibilites and all that. Sure enough, 30
minutes later, I was doubling back toward the ER. After an hour wait
(some of which Gus slept in my lap) we were shown to a room at the
hospital, and about 2 hours (and way too much TV) later, a nurse
finally came in. About 30 minutes later, the doctor moseyed in, and by
then I was fighting mad. Gus had fallen during lunch, meaning he
didn't finish. It was dangerously close to dinner time, and he'd slept
all of about 20 minutes worth of a normally 2 hour nap. He was running
out of things to explore in our room, and my forgotten stash of Jelly
Bellies was just about gone. Most unfortunately, the doctor we saw was
the one who had sewn up Simon's eyelid, and I didn't think he'd done
the best job ever. Not much I could do at that point, since Gus's lip
was well on it's way to healing itself by then, and apparently he's
the 'stitches guy' there.

Here we are, waiting for medical attention. The lip was swollen enough that the cut didn't look too deep at that point.



The worst part for me, when watching my kids get stitches, is when
they strap the kid down. No one likes being contained like that
(unless you're a 2 day old baby or just 'one of those' people), and it
just adds to the panic, although I completely understand, obviously,
why it has to be done. So he got wrapped in a straight-jacket of bed
sheets, basically, and they injected his lip (and INTO the cut, what
the hell!) with pain-killer, and of course some got in his mouth and
he was hating that... it was just 15 minutes of screaming, thrashing,
heart-breaking chaos including one old man with a hook and thread, a
young nurse with Gus's head in a vise, and his mama, hugging his torso
and trying to assure him that it would be over soon. In the end, he
received 4 stitches, and we realized that he'd cut his lower lip
pretty deeply on the inside in another spot, but that it didn't need
stitches.

Stitches finished (and not liking the flash). You can see the thumb nail on his left hand, all bruised from the automatic door incident a month or so ago.



We finally got home at 5:40 or so, and of course everyone was worried
about Gus, and worried about their empty bellies. And Gus was not
happy about *anything*. Wanted to be held, didn't want to be held.
Wanted a drink, didn't want a drink. Wanted to eat, didn't want to
eat, and so on. Apparently he could either still taste the painkiller,
or he was remembering the taste, because he kept saying 'yucky' about
everything he put in his mouth. But we were all starving, so Oly and I
played a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who would run for
take-out. He lost, but then couldn't find his wallet, so after 10
minutes of searching, it was decided that I would go, instead.

Finally, about an hour later, we were all fed, and now all of the
children are in bed. I am not looking forward to the next three days
of a 2 year old with stitches. Do they make those dog cones for kids?