Our little Frankenstein

So, as most of you already know... Carsten fell victim to his inherited clumsiness on Monday. He was running from the living room into the spare bedroom where Danyel and I were calling him. As he dashed into the room, he tripped on his own feet and hit his head on the very sharp corner of the windowsill. Blood was gushing out of the wound and getting all over the place. He was screaming. Danyel and I were panicking. Danyel ran to get a towel to soak up the blood and he was gone for what seemed like forever. He was running around like a chicken with his head cut off trying to figure out what the hell to do. Seeing your child oozing large amounts of blood out of their forehead is quite a frightening experience. He hit so hard that I can still hear it in my head. I am surprised that he didn't pass out or suffer a concussion.

We realized that he was going to need stitches right away. The blood clotted pretty quickly for the most part, but was still slowly oozing. The weather was awful, so I took him down the street to a family clinic instead of to his regular pediatrician's office,which was a big mistake. They ended up putting steri-strips (sticker like stitches) over his wound instead of sutures. They came loose that evening and I had to take him to the pediatrician early the next morning where they did an excellent job at giving him three stitches.

It was an awful experience to watch him endure. They had to straight jacket him down to the exam table. Then, she injected some lidocaine into the cut to deaden it, which was the worst part. He screamed like I have never heard him scream before. He kept crying and saying, "Mama, turn it off!" I tried to stay smiling and strong for him, but I couldn't stop crying. These damn pregnancy hormones.

Once the lidocaine kicked in, he settled down for the most part and was just whimpering. The crazy thing is that when she was done and I let him out of the straight jacket he just went about his business. He even thanked her when she was done. He didn't seem traumatized in the least bit. The P.A. said that he did excellent compared to most kids his age. That's my Bubby... he's one tough cookie.

And, as you can see by the pics, he's moved on.