I have been waiting to tell the story until I was confident it was over. Now I really don’t feel like telling the story, I am so DONE with it all.
2 months ago now, J closed his finger in my back door. He sheared (squished) off the tip of his left hand ring finger. It was bad. A trip to the ER, screaming, an x-ray (nothing broken), twilight drugs, countless stitches, and wobbling legs passed. Hours later we were home, and J had his very own claw (and dashing tiny hospital gown).
The next day we found ourselves at his doctor, waiting late into the evening, to try to get him some good drugs (the tylenol and motrin just wasn’t cutting it). After the good drugs, J started to really function again, and just went about his business one-handed.
The next week we were back at the doctor, supposedly to get stitches out. Well, let’s just say, this was an interesting injury, and the doctor decided not to make it her problem. I don’t blame her really, it was not looking good at this point. So, she said she would get us a referral to someone, either a plastic surgeon or an orthopedist.
The next day were at an orthopedist, among the old people getting new hips.
It was another week before they finally took his stitches out. (That was not fun, by the way.) It was another week before we knew if the tip of his finger would stay attached or not. Luckily, it lived (well, most of it) and one fast checkup later, we were all done (the last appointment we had was a little over a month after the original injury).
Since then he has managed to be injured in so many ways, like the time when he simultaneously had a nasty bruise under his chin, road rash on the front of his chin, and a black eye from a stray lego at daycare.
Even after all of these injuries, and so many more (what? he is a 2 year old boy!), if you ask him where his owie is, he will show you his finger. If you see him, give it a kiss, it always makes it better.