NURSE TONI IS A COWARD WHEN IT COMES TO HER KIDS

Okay, I think I'm over the trauma hump enough that I can share this one now. I just could not tell this story in real time, as I was so freaked out in the aftermath. Seriously? I thought I might need therapy over this 'cause it was just waaaaay too much for me to handle.

Now before I get all comfy into the story, let me just say, y'all know I'm a former RN, yes? So I've stomached some really ugly "stuff" to be certain. As such, I should do a blue ribbon job at home when it comes to boo boos and the like, yes?

Um, NO!

NoOOoo!
I. AM. NOT. CALM. WHEN. IT. IS. MY. OWN. CHILD.

There, I said it and now you know. Yeah sure, I handled it okay when I was working three 12 hour shifts in the hospital. But when my own children are injured, I'm just waaay too subjective. Okay then...

The kids were playing upstairs. Carl and I were downstairs at the time, when suddenly the breath was literally sucked out of us by a blood curdling scream from above. It was Reece and he was completely hysterical. As we sprinted for the stairs, we heard Olivia go into an all out plea for help, the kind that makes your hairy arms look like porcupines in fight-or-flight mode. I mean, we were really scared to see what awaited us as we bolted upstairs.

Olivia couldn't catch her breath, she was soooo upset. She was hanging on to her little brother for dear life, who himself was in complete crying hysterics. And what did we see as we cleared the top of the steps?

Blood. I'm telling you, we saw blood!

And it was coming from (deep inhale, Toni)...from his eye. From Reece's eye, people. He was bleeding out of his eye. I almost went down. I mean it.

Once the initial wave of lightheadedness passed over however, I immediately grabbed Reece and laid him down on the floor, barking orders to Carl as I did so. Oh, to see his beautiful green eye bleeding. Bleeding for Pete's sake. Okay, so as I tell this, I'm thinking I'm not so done with the trauma after all. The heebie jeebies are a bit of a tipoff, don'tcha think?

I tried to examine his eye to find the source of the bleeding, while simultaneously trying desperately to calm Olivia down so I could get her to tell me exactly what happened. She was just so upset that it seemed like forever before I could make sense of her words (she tends to freak out in any situation she deems an emergency.)

She did finally spill though. Apparently, she and Reece wanted coins from her bank so they could "buy" some gumballs from their little gumball machine. They had been unsuccessfully fishing for them with her latch hook (shudder), so she shook her bank up and down as Reece moved in close to try to peek inside.

But she still had the latch hook in her hand as she shook.

And he got too close.

And she accidentally jabbed him right in the eye with it (I need air.)

And now.....I interrupt this blog entry to bring you the following message: I'M SO GROSSED OUT BY THE THOUGHT OF HER LATCH HOOK IN HIS EYE! IS THAT NOT SO COMPLETELY UPSETTING?

As I examined him, I found two cuts on the sclera (the white part of the eyeball) in the corner of his eye. The bleeding had stopped almost as quickly as it had started. Thank you, Lord. And he denied any pain beyond the initial injury.

I immediately had Carl call the doctor to see what needed to be done. She asked him a load of questions before determining that we should wait until the next morning, watching for signs of infection. Okay then, so I finally exhaled. And I knew I could handle it from there. And Olivia, bless her heart, did her own "eye exams", covering Reece's eye several times before the night was out and making him correctly identify objects she was showing him.
"Mom, he's not blind. I checked."

I was so filled with complicated emotions. I was frustrated that he was injured in the eye. Thankful that it wasn't worse. Sad for Olivia who was completely freaked out by the bleeding and the fact that she had somehow caused it. Sad for Reece who, in spite of his own pain and fear, didn't want the rest of us upset. He kept assuring us with that sweet little voice of his, "I'm okay. I'm okay."

Dear sweet bloggy friends, please tell me it gets easier, that this is the worst injury I'm going to happen upon during their childhood. I mean, I know it can get worse. After all, my baby brother came home with his nose lodged sideways and his front teeth hanging on by a thread after he flipped over his handlebars on concrete. My big brother pulled kite string right through his hand and sliced half his finger off while cutting cheese (real cheese) as a kid. Who, me? I was a saint ("s'aint happening to me if I can help it.") Oh sure, I did occasionally pass out cold in church, but sustained no significant injuries that I can recall. And definitely no bleeding eyeballs for me.

And here I went and made a joke out of y'all reading my two-fer meme a few days ago, and how you'd probably rather stick knitting needles in your good eye. Stay clear away from those things, ya hear? And don't get too close to a latch hook either. And you might keep a vision chart handy just, ya know, in case.

Toni