Family Portraits & Head Trauma

I’ve come to realize and even unwillingly accept that family pictures and head trauma go hand in hand. Maybe it’s just our little family but why is it that whenever someone schedules, plans or mentions family pictures we are headed to the emergency room?

We will be going to FL shortly for a family vacation and reunion. Of course we decided to take family pictures, isn’t that what you do at family reunions? Not to mention we haven’t all been together for years and years and well years. Once it was unanimous that pictures were a must and arrangements were under way, I tried really hard to put the bumps, bruises and gashes out of my mind along with the urge to strap football helmets with face guards on their heads. I tried consoling myself with all kinds of reasons why this time would be different. However, On Wednesday evening shortly after Cameron left to take the young men from our church to a Jazz basketball game in SLC it happened. I was finishing things up in the kitchen when I heard it, That Cry that isn’t quite a cry or a scream or even a whine or whimper. But I knew exactly what it was and I raced up the stairs after it. There coming out of my room was a woozy Hudson holding his head looking as though he was about to collapse. I scooped him up and started talking and comforting him to keep him from passing out. He had his hand on his forehead and I placed mine on top of his. I knew I had to assess the wound, I was dreading having to make the call if he’d need stitches or not. When I saw that he wasn’t going to pass out on me I removed our hands from his forehead and blood just started gushing out. I couldn’t contain it, I was trying to keep it out of his eyes and then blood started going down the left side of his forehead and then the right. Now I was trying to keep it out of his ears while pressing my hand on his wound and yelling out instructions, “get a washcloth, get the phone, bring me my wallet!” Once we finally got the pressure back on and the blood stopped I called the pediatrician to see if they were in that night. There was no doubt he needed stitches.
The receptionist told us to come in right away. I’m passing out orders left and right as clearly yet as urgently as I can, “ get your shoes, I don’t care what kind just get some shoes, Everest grab a box of crackers and some waters, Get your jackets, everyone in the car now, right now…” I was able to get a big oversized bandage on Hudson’s head and whipped away most of the blood, grabbed his blanket and then frantically was looking for my keys, they are always in the same spot, running through the house unable to find them, I go outside to see if they’re in the car. THE CAR?! Where’s the car? Cameron took my car so he could fit all the young men in it! So back in the house I go to search for Cameron’s keys, we’re throwing in the car seats and boys and off we go. On the way, we go through our checklist, who’s wearing shoes? Who brought books? Who got the snacks? Does everyone have a jacket? Meanwhile I’m forcing myself to take long deep breaths.

Finally at the pediatricians we take a deep breath as they take us back and phase II begins. The nurse has me peel back the bandage to see if we really need stitches without saying a word she secures the bandage back on his forehead and goes to inform the doctor. Meanwhile we are all piled into a little room, the boys spread out their books and pencils and their shoes and jackets are now strewn all over the floor. They’ve found a toy car and have made ramps out of their books, seeing who can make it jump the highest and farthest. The noise level is climbing and as I’m catching my breath I realize how messy I am. That’s my other big question, why is it that you always look your worst in an emergency? I had been cleaning all day. I had sweats on and my hair was a mess, any make up that may have been on my face wasn’t anymore. Then I look around, oh, the boys don’t look much better after an afternoon of playing outside either.

The doctor comes in and introduces herself, we hadn’t met this one yet. She just so happens to specialize in plastic surgery. Finally something is going our way. She recommends super strength super glue. Since the cut is straight and clean, plus he is so young he wouldn’t have to go through the trauma of the shots and stitches. She reassures me that if she thought stitches would leave less of a scar she’d recommend them. I was fine with the super glue route, it would be quicker and less painful and frightening for Hudson. However, he’d never be able to boast about how many stitches he had in his forehead. Glue just doesn’t sound as cool or manly as stitches. In no time they were rinsing out his wound and holding the gash together while trying to super glue it without gluing their own fingers to his head. I, the boys, the nurse and the pediatrician all huddled around Hudson’s head with a bright light above while Edison paced the floor. Hudson didn’t flinch not even when she used pointy tweezers to pull a side of the skin closer for a snug fit. I even thought to myself, ‘ouch, that’s got to hurt’. He just watched all the commotion going on above him and then it was over. They raved about his bravery and they each got a little prize from the prize machine. And back home we went. It was much nicer and quicker than the ER not to mention less expensive. But it was still head trauma and we’ll have the scar and pictures for proof.