He climbed up onto Lexi's loft bed to
bug her talk to her. She didn't like this and gave him a shove asked him to leave. He stumbled from the bed and landed in a pool. A Polly Pocket pool, that is. See exhibit A..
Lexi, Clay, Brooklyn, and Lexi's friend came running to me. "Jackson's hurt! Come quick! Jackson's bleeding! He's hurt!"
Being the awesome, caring, concerned mother I am, I said something along the lines of, "Is he really hurt or just crying because he scraped himself?"
"He's really hurt!" they chimed, all freaked-out-like.
I hurried to Lexi's room where Jackson lay, holding his foot, writhing in pain and screaming. Now, first you need to know that Jackson tends to be overly dramatic with injuries. A little skinned knee can elicit screams of horror movie proportions.
I took a look at his foot, after I pried his hands away, and saw a pretty deep gash. (Now this is where I make up for my deficiency in handling puke). I calmly said, "Hon, I need to take you to the hospital to have this looked at. I think you're going to need stitches. I probably shouldn't have mentioned "stitches" to Jackson who immediately started crying and freaking out. I calmed him down and assured him it would be ok. If he did end up needing stitches, they'd give him something to numb his foot and it would be fine.
Fast forward to the ER. We walked in (or more like I walked in and Jax hopped in on one foot) and the first person we saw was the mom of one of Jackson's best friends. She ushered us right into the ER where we were seen right away. On the way to our room we ran across Joe's cousin and the mom of another one of Jackson's friends. It was like a little reunion or something.
So they numbed it, cleaned it, and stitched it up and all the while Jackson screamed bloody murder. They didn't give him a shot to numb his foot and just relied on the cream to numb it enough for stitches. It didn't do the trick. Although with Jackson, it's hard to tell because he will scream like he's being brutally beaten simply because he sees a needle. A nurse came in and tried to distract him by asking him all sorts of questions. "Do you play sports? What sports do you play? What position do you play? What's your favorite team? Who's your favorite player? Are you a Cubs fan or a Sox fan? Do you know the routine "Who's on First"? And on and on and on. Meanwhile, Jackson's just screaming his head off and hyperventilating and sweating. At one point, I'm pretty sure I saw his head rotate 360 degrees. I was afraid he was going to projectile vomit pea soup at the poor nurse with the running questions if she didn't shut up.
Somehow they finished, and 6 stitches and a snazzy special shoe later, he was free to go. The only problem is he can't put weight on his foot right now. The cut was smack dab in the middle of the bottom of his foot. Ouchie. And the worst part is the "No swimming for 2 weeks" order.
OK, hopefully we're done for a while and no one else gets injured while I'm at BlogHer.