Calling Dr. Toad
Sep. 24th, 2013 10:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
olorielSo yesterday we had our first emergency hospital run with the Flixster.
I was preparing to make supper/ emptying the dishwasher. Felix was running from living-room into kitchen and back; came around the corner; stumbled across his own feet, and hit the open flap of the dishwasher squarely with his forehead. After a stunned moment, he cried - normal reaction - and refused all attempts to put a coolpack on his forehead. There was much swelling, and amid the swelling, a long dent. Whether his breath was hitching just because he was crying so hard or because something was seriously wrong, we could not determine. Probably not, but the bump was a bit too much to comfortably ignore, so we packed him up and rushed to the hospital.
Well, by the time we got there, he was pretty much back to normal, aside from the fat blue bump and dent on his forehead, so it was clear that nothing really serious was wrong. But since we were there anyway, we registered at the children's accident/emergency care unit. They checked his pupil reactions to light, which were normal, so they decided that no immetiate action was necessary and we were told to wait. Waited almost an hour, by which time Felix was entirely back to normal - chatting, climbing on chairs, unfolding and unfolding the hospital flyers and bossing his parents around. The young doctor who finally had time for us listened to our story, checked on Felix again, decided that there was no damage to the skull and that there seemed to be no brain damage either, but should he "behave in a funny way, i.e. unlike himself" or throw up, we should come back.
On our way back to the car, we saw a toad on the sidewalk, crawling/hopping steadily towards the street. As toads on main roads tend to have a short life expectancy, I couldn't leave it there, could I? So I spent the way home with a toad on my lap. It showed no signs of fear, just slowly crawling across my lap, trying to get into the warmth of my sleeves or in my neckline. Its skin on mine felt just like (very cold) human skin. Felix commented on its endeavours with a dry "Toad, sit down!" from behind. Back at home, I sat the toad down in the shrubbery, where there is dead wood and heaps of stones, the way toads like it. Then I discovered that as a thank-you, it had peed on my pullover.
The pumpkin we had for our very belated supper turned out to be entirely tasteless.
Today, Felix is talking as always, coordinated as always, and didn't throw up, either. (We were more worried about damage to the frontal lobe or alternatively his spine rather than a concussion, anyway.) We're always making fun of our own and our son's hardheadedness, but I suppose it's a good thing that you can take it literally. Except that we're probably in some "potentially neglectful/violent parents" index now.
Oh well. Maybe we get karma points for the toad rescue, at least?
I was preparing to make supper/ emptying the dishwasher. Felix was running from living-room into kitchen and back; came around the corner; stumbled across his own feet, and hit the open flap of the dishwasher squarely with his forehead. After a stunned moment, he cried - normal reaction - and refused all attempts to put a coolpack on his forehead. There was much swelling, and amid the swelling, a long dent. Whether his breath was hitching just because he was crying so hard or because something was seriously wrong, we could not determine. Probably not, but the bump was a bit too much to comfortably ignore, so we packed him up and rushed to the hospital.
Well, by the time we got there, he was pretty much back to normal, aside from the fat blue bump and dent on his forehead, so it was clear that nothing really serious was wrong. But since we were there anyway, we registered at the children's accident/emergency care unit. They checked his pupil reactions to light, which were normal, so they decided that no immetiate action was necessary and we were told to wait. Waited almost an hour, by which time Felix was entirely back to normal - chatting, climbing on chairs, unfolding and unfolding the hospital flyers and bossing his parents around. The young doctor who finally had time for us listened to our story, checked on Felix again, decided that there was no damage to the skull and that there seemed to be no brain damage either, but should he "behave in a funny way, i.e. unlike himself" or throw up, we should come back.
On our way back to the car, we saw a toad on the sidewalk, crawling/hopping steadily towards the street. As toads on main roads tend to have a short life expectancy, I couldn't leave it there, could I? So I spent the way home with a toad on my lap. It showed no signs of fear, just slowly crawling across my lap, trying to get into the warmth of my sleeves or in my neckline. Its skin on mine felt just like (very cold) human skin. Felix commented on its endeavours with a dry "Toad, sit down!" from behind. Back at home, I sat the toad down in the shrubbery, where there is dead wood and heaps of stones, the way toads like it. Then I discovered that as a thank-you, it had peed on my pullover.
The pumpkin we had for our very belated supper turned out to be entirely tasteless.
Today, Felix is talking as always, coordinated as always, and didn't throw up, either. (We were more worried about damage to the frontal lobe or alternatively his spine rather than a concussion, anyway.) We're always making fun of our own and our son's hardheadedness, but I suppose it's a good thing that you can take it literally. Except that we're probably in some "potentially neglectful/violent parents" index now.
Oh well. Maybe we get karma points for the toad rescue, at least?
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no subject
Date: 2013-09-26 06:14 pm (UTC)fascistcorporatist system we're living under at present.*huggles* Nature's equipped your boy with a good Teutonic helmet of his own, which hopefully will suffice to see him through his adventurous youth - because really, I think Felix has little chance of becoming a "boring pale scholar".
One little girl I looked after had the habit of running under the dining-room table, her special escape-route when being chased by the Tickle Monster. The Tickle Monster hadn't been indoors all summer, naturally preferring to hunt outside in good weather, but chased her through the dining-room again that autumn. She ran full-tilt for her usual bolt-hole, the table she'd been freely running under since she first learned to run, and WHANG!!! smacked her forehead on the edge she'd grown too tall to run under.
And she didn't even cry! She sat there looking like she might, but then got up and pottered off, like she was more puzzled than hurt: "Why did my table shrink?" She had a pretty good bruise across her forehead the next day, but not a sign of anything else. Amazing.
Glad your bonny boy is fine; hope you're all having a joyous Harvest Season!
no subject
Date: 2013-09-29 05:59 pm (UTC)The shrinking table! Felix had to deal with that too, though fortunately not as dramatically as your poor charge...
A busy one, certainly! The last week was golden and sunny, so we spent most of the day outside - but it's getting pretty cold at night! Soon I'll have to prepare the garden for winter...