“Look at me, sweetie. Do you trust me?”
The fear in his eyes tore at my heart. I had his arms shoved into a pillow case that he was lying on. Great for immobilizing the hands at the sides. Blood and tears stained his T-shirt.
“Yes, mommy. I trust you.”
I had one of the nurses hold the iPad up in front of him as it played an episode of Jake and the Neverland Pirates (he was three and pirates still held sway), the other nurse was assisting me. I had shot the laceration on his chin full of lidocaine and now set about sewing the gash he hand reportedly gotten from tripping on a concrete step at daycare.
Goddamn negligent daycare! I knew that was not true but it made me feel better to think it, to blame someone else for his pain.
Truthfully, I had intended on using glue. Except that, as it turned out, we were out of dermabond. I’ll be damned if I was going to pay $1600 for some stranger to do this at the ER so I determined to suture the chin up myself.
My hands shook something awful as I placed the first suture.
Just keep moving and no one will notice.
As I was tying the second suture, he whimpered.
And then I was done.
“Oh, baby! You were such a good patient! I love you so, so much!” Big hugs and high fives all around.
I needed a good cry.
Instead, we went to eat ice cream, bloody shirt and all.
God forbid there is ever a next time. If there is, I will gladly take him to the ER…