Here’s the pictures of Chelsey’s chin, as promised.  We also put pictures of the Mission Training School grad a week ago and some Easter fun today.  Chin pictures below.  The rest of the pictures can be seen by clicking here.

Yesterday started out normal enough I guess.  We just started the potty training process with Katria.  For those of you who have never had this “joy” before, one of the key points is to let the child know what it feels like to pee.  As we have tile floors in our apartment and beautiful weather outside, K’s been bare-bumming it for a couple of days now.  We have one little rug in our apartment, and guess where she dropped a little present??  Right.  On the little rug, instead of the endless tile.  Little did I know that this would be the high point of the day.

Well, I chose to wear my Chivas soccer jersey.  (This information may seem gratuitous right now, but it’s not.)  I was minding my own business when my friend Rachel (our downstairs neighbour) comes in.  She said that Chelsey fell while playing and cut her chin.  I didn’t hear the usual cries wafting in from outside, so I  went to find the bandaids and a cloth, a bit annoyed to have to pause my computer game.  I was a bit unprepared when Ryan came in carrying Chelsey and holding a cloth to her chin.  He laid her on the couch and mouthed “it’s bad”.

So, I peel back the cloth to see what size bandaid I’ll need.  I quickly see that this is no bandaid job.  Fortunately, the bleeding had already stopped but this left the gash on her chin all too clear.  The cut was over 2 inches wide and at least a quarter inch deep, clear down to the bone.  It’s quite unnerving looking at your daughter’s chin bone, complete with the muscle and fat layers.  Thankfully it was a “clean” straight cut.

Ryan picks Chelsey back up and heads to the van for the drive to the hospital for stitches.  I grab a new cloth and a cold juice box to put on her head.  Rachel graciously takes Jared and Katria to her place (thanks Rachel!!) while we drive away.  It’s quite hard to keep a deep gash closed on a child while driving on bumpy gravel roads, by the way.  Ryan drops us of at the emergency bay and I carry my tall 7 1/2 year old in.  I enter the hospital and am quite confused to see that there are 8 full chairs and 3 closed doors.  I ask one of the sitting people if I can go in and they all say “no”.  I stand there a little concerned, when a lady pushes a tiny hidden button that I never would have found.  I assumed this was to let them know someone new was there.

Chelsey has a tendency to overreact to blood related things, so I was “cradling” her, keeping her legs up to prevent shock.  Harder than it sounds with her size.  Another lady kindly offers me her seat.  Ryan comes in from parking and stands by the door, wondering where triage is (nonexistent).  The other people in this waiting area realize the severity of Chelsey’s wound and push the button a couple more times, to no avail.  While talking with Chelsey to keep her mind off her injury, her eyes suddenly glaze over a bit causing me to feel panic creep in!  I keep her from losing consciousness, but realize that shock is starting in her.  Ryan helps me lay her down on the floor so we can raise her legs up better.  When the others all see this, they buzz the button passionately for us.  Finally an annoyed nurse comes out asking what’s going on.  All the people say “the little girl, the little girl!!”.  She takes one look at my pale daughter and her gash and tells us to come on in.

The emergency room consists of 4 beds and 2 chairs.  All the beds were full, so I held Chelsey on the chairs as Ryan was sent back out (only one of us was permitted to stay with her).  It seemed to take forever, but I don’t think it really was.  A doctor comes over, peeks under the cloth on her chin, and in English (yay!) says, “oh, it looks good, we’ll just have to…*insert looping hand motion here*”.  Chelsey hears that but doesn’t see the motion and says,  “so I don’t have to get stitches then?!”  and I have to let her down saying that she needs stitches but that it will be easy for him to do.  He says he’ll be back in 5 minutes.

One of the beds opens up and we move in.  A nurse comes and cleans out the wound while Chelsey whimpers.  The doctor walks in as the door buzzer sounds again.  A man enters half carrying a teenage boy, and heads to the chairs we just vacated.  He doesn’t look good.  All the nurses and doctors go to help him, leaving us waiting again.  On his way out, the doctor says “5 minutes”.

Well, with the new guy taken care of, the doctor and nurse finally return with their sterile trays for the stitches.  Chelsey hates shots.  The nurse places one of those sheets with a hole in it over Chelsey’s face so that only the chin is exposed through the slit.  She doesn’t like that.  They have to give her 3 or 4 (I don’t remember) shots around the gash to  numb it.  Her whimpers are louder now.  The doctor immediately starts the stitches.  It seems to take forever.  The whimpers are still loud.  He finally finishes the 7th stitch, cleans the area, and uncovers her face.  The nurse tapes on the gauze, leaving Chelsey looking as if she has the strap of a hockey helmet on her chin.

They gave me some antibiotics and instructions.  The doctor said that everything looked good.  Except my shirt.  Apparently he’s a pumas fan.  We must’ve looked pretty pathetic if he treated us despite the rivalry.  I was surprised when I was told no charge for the treatment.  We later found out that we’d gone to the free hospital…

Chelsey’s doing well and tells everyone she now has the same scar as her daddy.

We’ll post some pics of her stitches later today when one of our base nurses (who arrived after the whole event) changes her gauze.

~Michelle