July 4th Re-cap

Our holiday began like every other day. Total insanity. Since potty training the twins, one of us is in that half-bath every 30 minutes. And trying to watch for crossed legs and, everybody's favorite, the "pee-pee" dance, from two kids who are at opposite ends of the house, while keeping J-man happy, and simultaneously washing dishes and vacuuming floors makes for an interesting morning.

Finally, it was 12:30PM. All five of us had eaten lunch, my mom and her friend were on their way over for July 4th food and fun, neither of the twins had had a poop or pee accident, and all was well. Ty-man ran upstairs, with J-man, for diapers. The next thing I heard was Ty yelling, "J-man! No! J-man! J-MAAAAN!" and then I heard it.

It was the sickening sound of J-man falling down the stairs. Nine steps. I counted.

Next comes my stream-of-consciousness memory of the next hour.

Ty-man and I made it to him at the same time. Ty snatched him up and J-man was screaming his head off. We went to the family room. J-man's nose started to bleed. I grabbed an ice pack. The twins were trying to climb up onto Ty's lap. I called the pediatrician. The answering service told me the doctor would call back. Miss-Miss told us she had to go to the potty. J-man's eyes started to droop. I freaked. Ty told Bubba to get down. Bubba cried and ran into the dining room. I called 911. While I gave 911 all our information, I was also wiping Miss-Miss's bottom and cleaning out the potty chair. Mom arrived. Paramedics arrived. Ty is hanging on to J-man for all he's worth. Firetruck pulled in. Six firemen/EMTs were in my family room. Bubba peed on the foyer floor. Paramedics examined J-man, while Ty tightly held him. I gave an EMT J-man's personal info while cleaning up the foyer and Bubba. Mom brought down clean undies and shorts. Mom took Bubba outside to see the firetruck. Miss-Miss was frozen on the hearth. EMT advised taking J-man to the local pediatric ER. We decided to drive him ourselves. All six hulking firemen left. J-man threw up. Mom raced outside to tell them to come back. EMT said it's not surprising. We loaded up in the minivan. I said Hell, no! to the car seat laws and J-man rode on my lap. During the drive, J-man tried to fall asleep. I kept him awake with 50 different versions of patty-cake. We finally got there. Triage nurse took his vitals. And we found ourselves here:


On a bed, in the hallway of the local hospital's pediatric ER. J-man was alert but scared and was absolutely glued to my chest. A few minutes later, we were in a room where we found this sign:


Not "Outstanding" care, not "excellent" care, but "Very Good" care. No, we don't want to aim too high. Friggin' glass half-empty hospital. After that? I was worried. The doctor finally came in after 45 minutes during which I let J-man sleep. He was finally alert, and crying hysterically because some strange man was poking and prodding at him. We got our little man to walk (no broken legs) and the doctor ordered X-rays of his nasal cavity. Off we went to Radiology. Since it was a holiday and they were short-staffed, it was up to me to don a lead vest and play radiologist. I had to hold down my screaming child and keep him still while three pictures were taken of his head. Fun? I think not. But after asking the radiologist about her equipment, telling her I wanted to go into health physics as a career after undergrad, and informing her I watch Discovery Health a lot, I immediately thought Crap. Now she probably thinks I've got Munchausen by Proxy disorder and that I chucked him down the stairs for attention. Great.

Everything came back fine and normal. No broken bones, no concussions, no seizures, no concerns. After almost six hours, we went home and chowed down on an Independence Day feast courtesy of my mom and her friend. We ate, we relived the day, and we sighed with relief.

As we were giving the kids a bath, Ty-man (in his sock feet) casually mentioned You know, the middle toe on my left foot has been hurting since we left for the hospital. I wonder what's going on. I told him to take off his sock and look at it. Turns out we did end up with a broken bone after all:


After 36 years and five months, Ty-man managed to break his first bone. Ever. In the rush to get from J-man's room to the landing, he somehow broke his toe and didn't notice the pain until an hour later and didn't say anything about it for another five hours. That's my man.

So, now that you've stuck with me through this sordid tale, let's check the scoreboard:

Broken bones: 1
Times I have now called 911: 1
New gates purchased for the tops of the stairs: 2
X-rays: 3
Hours in an ER: 3.5
Twin poop and pee accidents: 2
Burly firemen in our house: 6
Nosy neighbors checking out the scene after the fact: 1
Freaked out parents: 2
Happy, slightly clingy J-man who is no worse for his tumble: 1