I've been a parent for almost four years now. In that time, I feel I have met every challenge presented to me. True, I may have felt inept at times, but at least I didn't panic. At least I wasn't useless.
Never have I felt that I failed one of my kids.
Until today.
I was in the kitchen, putting the dishes in the dishwasher after lunch, when I heard Zoey cry shriek wail... I really have no way of accurately describing it. It was a sound I had never heard her make. And a sound I hope I never hear again.
I rushed into the living room and found her covered with blood.
Her face, forehead, and right arm had blood all over it. Blood was on her dress. Blood was on the floor. She was frozen, standing in the middle of the living room, screaming.
I was frozen as well. I just stood there, trying to grasp what was happening, what had happened, and what to do. I have seen plenty of blood in my life; I've had lots of broken bones and my share of stitches. But I had never seen that much blood on my daughter.
I just stood there.
Finally, I pulled my head out of my ass and rushed over to comfort her. I took her to the kitchen and washed most of the blood off her body. I was then able to tell that the blood was coming from her forehead. In between her sobs, I was able to discover that she had hit her head on the corner of our entertainment center.
I asked her if she needed to go to the doctor. Of course, she screamed, "NO!" So I took her back to the living room and put her on the couch. I put a washcloth to her forehead. She had a tiny hole in her forehead which, in my mind, looked like a gaping wound that left me wondering how her brain was still inside her skull.
The bleeding had stopped, but I still phoned Ella. "COME HOME NOW!" I screamed. "ZOEY'S HURT!" Ella came home and calmed me Zoey down. "She's ok," Ella told me. "She doesn't even need stitches." I didn't believe her; I had seen all the blood that had come out of Zoey's head. Blood like that requires stitches!
I spent the rest of the afternoon s-t-a-r-i-n-g at poor Zoey. She was fine. She was dancing and playing as usual. But all I could see was her covered in blood.
I watched for signs of dizziness. I looked at the wound again and again, trying to determine if it needed stitches, praying that it didn't reopen.
Finally, after about two hours (actually, it was only ten minutes), I drove to my mom's office. She was once a nurse and assured me that Zoey did not need stitches.
So we came back home. Zed played in my office while Zoey and I spent most of the afternoon in front of the computer, playing games, surfing, and stalking WebMd.
Tonight, she's got a walnut-sized welt in the middle of her forehead. But she'll be okay. As long as her father never has to make a quick decision that may decide her fate.
GHS: 10
And for the two of you that care, I will resume my Top 100 Albums Of All Time tomorrow evening. I promise.
Monday Bloody Monday
