Come on...he looks so happy...how bad could it have been?This story comes as a summary of the 5 or 6 times I've heard my wife tell this story to her friends and family. It happened 2 weeks ago...this has been the first chance for me to sit down and record this story to be passed on from generation to generation.
So I am clipping David's fingernails. We're both on the floor, with him in my lap, and I'm reaching around him to clip his nails. So I start with his thumb, on his left hand. "Clip" "clip" goes the clipper! On to the index finger I go! "Clip." "Clip." "Squish."
Squish? That's odd. I look down, and low and behold, there is a little piece of skin missing. It didn't look so bad, so I went on and finished his hand. I go back and take a look at that finger, and squeeze it like you would a papercut.
Rob, it's to see if it's going to bleed or not. You are a big wimp. Anyway. A few drops of blood came out, so I grabbed a tissue and pinched it. David just starts to fuss, so I move to the chair to nurse him, tissue in hand. I keep his hand up in the air, continuing to apply direct pressure to his finger, and nurse him for a few minutes. I check the cut, and it's still bleeding. I move the tissue over, and nurse for a few more minutes.
I start to worry that my basic first-aid measures are not working. I even concentrate really hard on the direct pressure thing, and watch the clock. 2 minutes. 3 minutes. 5 minutes. And it's still bleeding. Hmmm...
New tissue.
So I call the pediatrician and explain the situation. I'm not sure how much blood a little person can lose through his finger in 15 minutes, but it seems like a lot to me. The nurse on the phone asks how soon I can get there (that was fun). I tell her 5 minutes, hang up, and suddenly realize that I'm still in my PJ's.
I made it there in 8 minutes. I was able to cut some corners (switch the nightgown for the sweatshirt, didn't tie my shoelaces) but not all corners (still had my PJ bottoms on). I explain everything to the doctor, and she gently presses for more information. I tell her everything, still feeling fairly relaxed about the situation. The doctor takes a closer look.
"Well, there's no room to suture."
The relaxed feeling has left the building. Stitches, I thought? Actually, the thought was more like STITCHES?!?!?!????
David enjoyed some happy attention from the nurse while she held his hand still, and the doctor used "Dermabond" until it stopped bleeding. FYI: Dermabond is like Super-Glue for our skin. All during the process, the doctor gave the typical warnings about not getting stuck to the glue, similar to the warnings you see on Super-Glue (like "don't use superglue and immediately itch your ear or pick your nose. Wash your hands first"). At the end, she covered the tip of his finger with gauze, and then covered it with a bandage, attaching it to his middle finger, around his hand and thumb, and back again (picture a two year old playing the 'cat in the craddle' yarn game). Then she taped it, had me put a sock over it "so he wouldn't suck on it," and instructed me to do this myself every day for the next four to five days.
Sidenote: David was just learning to grab things with his left hand. Today, nearly three weeks later, he just come to this realization again. His right hand is doing much better, totally healed, and all is well.
There you have it. A narration from my wife, with a few snippets (that passed her proofread) from me. And in conclusion, I will sign off with an uncanny resemblance of my son to an old Nintendo game.
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Organizing the Buffet
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