Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Hard-Headed Man


Nasty scare this afternoon. I hate to fly, and I don’t much care to have my family flying either (well, the flying I love, its falling for long, long periods of time that scares me) so I have been on edge most of the day since dropping off my parents and niece at the airport to head home from their San Diego Extravaganza.

But, as you likely have heard, most injuries happen at home. Today, Luka, one of my twin toddlers, whom we always joke about being a monkey and how we will spend half our life in the emergency room with, is there for his first visit.

He loves to just walk off the edge of the couch landing on the mini-kiddie-couch and a bunch of pillows. Well, this afternoon, he did that, onto my older son Noah. I expected the usual, “OWWWW!!! Mom!!! Get Luka OFF of me!!!!” But instead I was greeted by giggles from both parties. Luka climbed up again, and jumped onto Noah again, and again giggles all around. It was so much fun seeing camaraderie where there is usually complaints that I just watched them tumble and roughhouse with only small reminders to be gentle.

And gentle Noah was. As Luka jumped down onto Noah and the toy couch, Noah caught him in a hug and slowly rolled him down to the floor. Only, in slow motion what I saw was Luka’s head squishing into the corner of a rough brick in the corner of the fireplace hearth, and listening to that sickly “thunk”. Then, the silent scream as I scooped him up, the open mouth expression of terror and pain and injustice for many long seconds before there was enough breath to make an actual voiced scream.

My hand instinctively went to the side of his head and felt the foreign object there… the bigger-than-a-marble lump that was a sack of blood that had filled up in less than 3 seconds.

My husband, the doctor, said it was probably okay. Luka had not passed out, nor did he look disoriented after a few minutes. But as the minutes grinded on and Luka would not take the ibuprofen or the ice pack, and the lump grew to the size of a small Brussels sprout, Michael asked if I was sure he had hit the CORNER of the brick.

Yes, I was very sure.

I asked what he would do if a patient came in with the same story and same huge lump.

He would send them straight to the emergency room.


He decided that it might be best if he took Luka into the emergency room for a cat scan.

I am home waiting, with Ethan and Noah.

Noah came out from under a blanket to very solemnly apologize for hurting Luka.

“Oh, baby… this was an accident. I LOVE that you were both playing so happily. It could have just as easily been you with the big boo-boo. You were helping him roll down to the floor. You weren’t playing too rough at all, baby.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

So, we wait.



Michael called and Luka is still acting pretty normally besides touching his lump occasionally and crying from making it hurt some more. They got his vitals taken and are waiting for the doctor. The doctor may of course say Luka is fine and send him home. Michael says in some cases, they have to inject a needle and take the fluid out. But it may just go down on its own.



Thank God that boy has a hard head. He is going to need it in this life. Michael brought Luka home later that evening with no cat scan and no lancing. The bump had gone down by half by then, but here, two days later, there is still a nasty lump under that crazy hair. We were to watch him for a couple days for any odd behavior (Odd behavior??? From Luka?? Ohhhhhh… Odd, for HIM! I see!). And for a couple days he has seemed just fine.

Again Noah came forward and apologized for hurting his baby brother. Again I had to look him in the eye and try to get through that he did not do anything wrong. I guess I wasn't convincing last time. Not sure I was this time either. But if it helps him to remember to be gentle with the twins, so be it.

Already, when I picture Luka’s skull, it looks like one of those hard boiled eggs, after you smash it on the counter, but before you peel it apart… covered in tiny hairline cracks stretching out over the surface. We bought the living room rug for Luka to cover the hardwood floor that he was forever conking his head on. It has softened quite a few blows already. But this thud into a firm sharp corner was quite a bit scarier. I could just imagine the possible puncture through his little apple skull.

I imagine one day he WILL get that cat scan for some other injury and the doctors will wonder what all those other healing cracks are from.

“Daily life, Doctor. Just Luka’s daily life.”


Wrath said...


Michael's very carefully worded reply to any medical question is always "Mmmmm.....well....if it were MY child (with the huge stick sticking out her eye), I would"

Seems that the decisions get harder when it actually IS your child.

I say Ha!

Kiss both boys for me.....the little one AND the big one. And also tell Noah that the fact he feels bad about his brother getting hurt means he is GROWING UP. And you are proud of him for that. Also tell him that Luka....especially Luka....NEEDS a big brother to jump on and wrestle with.....and he was doing great. He needs to do it more. But bad stuff happens sometimes. As long as you are being careful....like he was....you don't stop doing it.

That's a hard lesson for ADULTS much less a little boy who is becoming a big boy.

Anonymous said...

But I never mentioned to anyone that when I got to the ER check-in desk, I tell them I am here to check in and they ask; "Is this your child?" I say yes. Eyes squint, she leans in close . . . "No, I mean is this YOUR PERSONAL CHILD?" (As opposed to the ones from the time-share or Co-op) Yes . . . he is my son. "Ohh-kaaaayy."

Lord help me if I was with Ethan, they may have wanted DNA analysis first.


Karen C. said...

Haha ha ha ha, you didn't tell me that! Oh my...

Anyone here NOT know the story yet about when Noah was a baby and TWICE I was asked by strangers which country I adopted him from!

We look at pictures of Noah when he was the twin's age and imagine if they had been triplets, how different they all look. Even my two little white-boys don't look like brothers.

That's so funny, Michael.

Snowbird said...

That is hysterical, Michael. When we were out there, Karen and I agreed that Noah was yours, Luka was hers, and Ethan was mine.

Wrath--wow, great advice. Have I mentioned lately that I'm very proud of both of my kids???