My Little Buddy
Okay, so the accident happened almost two weeks ago, but I’m just barely writing about it. Procrastination has always been one of my favorite hobbies, after all. If you have no idea what I mean when I say “the accident,” then you should go read this post on Brinestone’s blog first.
I was in the back bedroom on my computer when the pan exploded. We have tile in our kitchen, so when you drop any glass on it, it shatters pretty spectacularly. This sounded different: I heard a loud pop, a horrible crash, and then a moment of dead silence. I called to Brinestone, but she didn’t answer. And then Lego started screaming.
I rushed into the room and saw the most horrifying sight in my life: Brinestone was standing in the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by burning-hot, broken glass, and Lego was trying to crawl to her. I grabbed him off the floor and pulled chunks of glass off of his cheek, the back of his left hand, and his left leg just below the knee. His whole left cheek was already swelling and turning red, and it looked like he had burns all over his arms and legs from trying to crawl to his mom.
Brinestone says that I was calm and level-headed, but I certainly didn’t feel like it. If I’d been thinking clearly I would’ve put cold wet rags on his burns instead of ice. I wouldn’t have frozen when I called the pediatrician; I had no idea how to explain what had just happened, but I guess I must’ve managed somehow, because within a couple of minutes we were heading out the door. I’m glad I thought to give him some Tylenol before we left, though, because it did seem to help once it started to kick in.
Once we were at the doctor’s office and the adrenaline started to wear off, it was different. Brinestone was the one who seemed calm and collected, while I listened to my little buddy crying and felt like I was dying inside. I know kids have accidents sometimes, but I never expected something like that to happen when he was so young. The worst pain he’d ever had was from bonking his head or having bad gas. He was so small and so helpless, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.
My dad likes to tell the story of an accident of my own from when I was four years old. We were at a ward fathers-and-sons outing, and I tripped and fell into the fire. Luckily I twisted as I fell, so only my right forearm landed in the fire. I rolled out of it right away, but my skin started to blister almost immediately.
All I really remember is that my dad kept a cool head and put wet towels around my arm. I didn’t cry at all; I simply told him when it was starting to hurt again, and he would rewet the towels. And then we packed up and headed home, and I told my mom all about how all I fell into the fire.
I kept thinking about that story as we sat in the procedure room. They gave Lego some Motrin to help kill the pain, and Brinestone started nursing him to see if that would help him calm down. It did, and pretty soon he was quiet—the crazy kid even smiled and giggled at the nurses a little bit. Then they got him cleaned and bandaged up, gave us a prescription for topical antibiotics and Tylenol with codeine, and sent us home.
Lego slept pretty well that night, and he was back to himself the next day. I expected him to be in a lot of pain the next several days, especially when he tried to crawl, but the only thing that bothered him was having his bandages changed. I don’t think I can overstate just how much he hates to hold still.
I’ve been pretty amazed at the little guy. He’s quite the trooper, and he’s healing pretty fast. He may have scars, but baby skin is pretty resilient, and anyway, there are worse things in life than having scars. And if he does have scars, someday he will ask about them, and I will tell him all about how he was burned and how he was such a good little boy. The whole experience wasn’t nearly as traumatic as I’d thought it would be, but it has certainly reminded me just how much I love my little buddy.