I invite you to read the email exchange between Phill and I.
SB: Oh, Finwe hit his head so hard on the door this morning that he didn't cry aloud. His face drew into a silent scream and remained there for at least ten seconds. I had to jostle him to make him cry. I was very scared.
P: Is he OK? Do you think he needs to be seen? Or was it breath holding?
SB: I think it was breath holding. He's acting normal at this time.
P: You know, neither of the girls ever made me want to rush home and see if
they were OK.
Dang bull in a china shop.
Showing posts with label Accidents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Accidents. Show all posts
03 January 2008
01 October 2007
Red Mark
If you look at the before and after photos of Finwe blowing out the candles on his birthday cake, you'll notice a red mark on his right eyebrow.
What is it?
Well, didn't you know? You are supposed to forget how heavy your head is just hours before your family throws you a birthday celebration. It is the same type of Murphy's Law that causes brides and prom goers to get the largest pimple of their lives on the big day.
Of course, I used it as a learning experience telling Finwe that the red stuff on his hand and handkerchief was blood. Later that evening, Larien was playing with an adorable doctor's kit (Auntie J knows how to buy) on Mom Mom. Larien said, "I'm pumping you up with blood."
Finwe stopped what he was doing, patted his head while stating, "I had blood right there."
What is it?
Well, didn't you know? You are supposed to forget how heavy your head is just hours before your family throws you a birthday celebration. It is the same type of Murphy's Law that causes brides and prom goers to get the largest pimple of their lives on the big day.
Of course, I used it as a learning experience telling Finwe that the red stuff on his hand and handkerchief was blood. Later that evening, Larien was playing with an adorable doctor's kit (Auntie J knows how to buy) on Mom Mom. Larien said, "I'm pumping you up with blood."
Finwe stopped what he was doing, patted his head while stating, "I had blood right there."
15 February 2007
When did this happen?
While the events of Tuesday were happening, I mentally told myself that I couldn't write about it. I didn't want to share the small slice of hell that Finwe and I (and Phill) lived that day. However, since three doctors have called us to check on Finwe; since I had to call the mother of our babysitter with the news; and since everyone at the girls' school inquired about Finwe as well; the cat is out of the bag. I still don't want to write about it, as putting it down on virtual paper is giving it more reality than I want it to have. Here goes. (For ease of writing I will only focus on Finwe. Inwe and Larien were lovingly cared for by TWA Pilot.)
On Tuesday morning Finwe sat on the floor, grabbed his head, and screamed in pain. He had no fever. He had not bumped his head or fallen. He went from smiling baby to a baby in severe pain. I took him to the pediatrician. Doctors mentally make a list of what could be wrong. In Finwe's case, ear infection was the first possibility, but my mind had already made a leap that the ears weren't the reason for his pain. I was worried that he had a bleed or a tumor in his brain. Call me crazy, but I've been down that road with my husband. I was seriously worried as Finwe would not stop screaming even while safely in my arms.
Sure, his ears looked a bit infected, but not raging with pus or fluid. Oral pain reliever didn't work, nor did the drops put in the ear canal to lessen the pain. With Phill's agreement and the agreement of the pediatrician, we decided to have his head scanned using a spiral, rapid CT. No one involved was prepared to send us home with a kid still in horrible pain with no great explanation.
Off to the ER for us as that is the fastest way to get a CT. We waited. We registered. We talked. Phill got the girls to a safe location. I took Finwe to the CT. We had to strap him down and tape his head still, but the CT was quick and successful. Back to waiting in the ER with Finwe draped over my shoulder. I had now held him continuously since 9:00am. It was 1:30pm.
The ER doctor told me that he read the CT and declared that there were no bleeds or tumors, but that the radiologist would review it. When Phill came with lunch for me, the ER doc informed us that the radiologist concurred, but . . .Finwe had a skull fracture.
To say that Phill and I were surprised is a gross understatement. Shocked, astounded, baffled as to when he could have hit his head with enough force to crack his skull. Words eluded me. Tears sprung from my eyes. My lunch lurched in my stomach. How had this happened? When did this happen? I was not prepared for what was said next.
"When a child has a skull fracture, the next step is a CPS referral," as the words left the doctor's mouth I swallowed hard so that I wouldn't vomit on him or the exhausted, but sleeping Finwe on my shoulder. (CPS is child protection services.) Of course, we said that he should follow hospital protocol and not exercise a double-standard because Phill is a doctor at the hospital. We weren't afraid of what any investigator would find; we don't abuse our children, and neither of us had any idea where Finwe would have had his skull fractured.
Phill left with the doctor so he could look at the film. His report to me was that there was a hairline fracture, but no one had remarked on any soft tissue damage in that area. While he was telling me what he saw, the hospital social worker visited with us asking about the incident. No one from this point on understood that we had not brought Finwe in for a supposed skull fracture. For each new person with whom with had interactions we had to explain the entire story.
As we talked with the social worker, we remembered a collision Finwe and Larien had with each other two weeks prior. Her nose bled terribly. Finwe didn't even fuss. Could that have been it? We talked some more with the woman. As Phill was talking I remembered. A month ago Phill and I had a date. Our babysitter told us when we arrived home that Finwe had pushed his chair over while eating. He had hit his head on the floor. He cried, but he settled down quickly for her. We didn't think twice about it as he was acting normally by the time we arrived home. It had happened just 15 minutes before we arrived. But, that was it. That was the only time in recent weeks that this could have happened. The only time.
I guess CPS accepted our explanation because we didn't have any more interactions with the social worker with the exception of giving our baby sitter's name and number for the record. That's why I called her mother. Can you imagine if CPS called to corroborate our story? It might happen, but at least her parents are prepared.
Phill left for a meeting that he couldn't miss, and I waited for neurosurgery to read the images of Finwe's head and consult with us. At 3:00, a fellow visited with me to say that the fracture was small and not worrisome to him. We could follow up with the neurosurgeon in three months. Finwe had no brain damage as a result of the fracture. That's good.
We waited some more. By this time I had given Finwe some more Tylenol, and he was doing better. He drank some juice and attempted to eat a cracker. He decided that he felt okay enough to walk around the pediatric ER area. The nurses let us. That was the first time since 9am that I had let him out of my arms. It didn't last long, but any sign of normalcy from Finwe was welcome.
Somewhere in all of this the staff had forgotten to tell me that I would need to take Finwe to the eye clinic for a good look at his retinas. This means two types of drops and a tight grip on his body and arms to check for retinal hemorrhaging, a sign of sustained abuse. Okay, fine. Sure. I'll jump that hoop to prove that I love my children and that I'm good to them. I'll do it even though I'm sure my friend is very tired of taking care of four children, even though the forecast is for lots of ice. Sure.
Poor me and Finwe. We walked a long way to the eye clinic. I held him while he screamed as another person put drops in his eyes. I walked around with Finwe again exhausted on my shoulder while his pupils dilated fully. I held him as he screamed so that the doctor could get a good look at his squeaky clean retinas. Then, I lost it as the doctor told me that we'd have to do it all again. The attending physician would have to look at his retinas because it was a suspected abuse case, except the attending was not at this facility. He was twenty minutes away. I'd have to wait.
I didn't yell, but I did call the doctor crazy. I asked him how was this good for my son? I have to hold him again while he screams. He's terrified of all this. He's exhausted. I'm exhausted. Why did you even start the exam without the attending at this facility? How is it safe for any of us that I will have to drive home on icy roads and pick up my other children in an ice storm? I Know I have no choice, but this is ridiculous.
I mad a frantic call to Phill on the verge of tears to find me, to bring me a drink, to bring Finwe a drink and a banana. I need you here so that I don't melt into a puddle of tears. I'm about to break, Phill. I'm too close. To Phill's credit, he was on his way to me while I called him. He was there in a short time sans banana but carrying juice and a snack for us.
We finally left the hospital at 5:15pm. I did drive on ice to get home. My friend was exhausted, but the girls were good for her.
Finwe is doing well. His source of pain was the ears. He's happy. He's normal. He has a skull fracture. I am, at the same time, glad that a system exists to find abused children when they enter the medical system and upset that when abuse is suspected that the attending opthamologist isn't in the room while the exam is being done.
I don't think that I can ever bring Finwe to the doctor's office without him being terribly afraid. I am still drained from the experience. My arms to my back are still sore from holding him for an entire day. If there were a day I would like to change, this past Tuesday would be it.
On Tuesday morning Finwe sat on the floor, grabbed his head, and screamed in pain. He had no fever. He had not bumped his head or fallen. He went from smiling baby to a baby in severe pain. I took him to the pediatrician. Doctors mentally make a list of what could be wrong. In Finwe's case, ear infection was the first possibility, but my mind had already made a leap that the ears weren't the reason for his pain. I was worried that he had a bleed or a tumor in his brain. Call me crazy, but I've been down that road with my husband. I was seriously worried as Finwe would not stop screaming even while safely in my arms.
Sure, his ears looked a bit infected, but not raging with pus or fluid. Oral pain reliever didn't work, nor did the drops put in the ear canal to lessen the pain. With Phill's agreement and the agreement of the pediatrician, we decided to have his head scanned using a spiral, rapid CT. No one involved was prepared to send us home with a kid still in horrible pain with no great explanation.
Off to the ER for us as that is the fastest way to get a CT. We waited. We registered. We talked. Phill got the girls to a safe location. I took Finwe to the CT. We had to strap him down and tape his head still, but the CT was quick and successful. Back to waiting in the ER with Finwe draped over my shoulder. I had now held him continuously since 9:00am. It was 1:30pm.
The ER doctor told me that he read the CT and declared that there were no bleeds or tumors, but that the radiologist would review it. When Phill came with lunch for me, the ER doc informed us that the radiologist concurred, but . . .Finwe had a skull fracture.
To say that Phill and I were surprised is a gross understatement. Shocked, astounded, baffled as to when he could have hit his head with enough force to crack his skull. Words eluded me. Tears sprung from my eyes. My lunch lurched in my stomach. How had this happened? When did this happen? I was not prepared for what was said next.
"When a child has a skull fracture, the next step is a CPS referral," as the words left the doctor's mouth I swallowed hard so that I wouldn't vomit on him or the exhausted, but sleeping Finwe on my shoulder. (CPS is child protection services.) Of course, we said that he should follow hospital protocol and not exercise a double-standard because Phill is a doctor at the hospital. We weren't afraid of what any investigator would find; we don't abuse our children, and neither of us had any idea where Finwe would have had his skull fractured.
Phill left with the doctor so he could look at the film. His report to me was that there was a hairline fracture, but no one had remarked on any soft tissue damage in that area. While he was telling me what he saw, the hospital social worker visited with us asking about the incident. No one from this point on understood that we had not brought Finwe in for a supposed skull fracture. For each new person with whom with had interactions we had to explain the entire story.
As we talked with the social worker, we remembered a collision Finwe and Larien had with each other two weeks prior. Her nose bled terribly. Finwe didn't even fuss. Could that have been it? We talked some more with the woman. As Phill was talking I remembered. A month ago Phill and I had a date. Our babysitter told us when we arrived home that Finwe had pushed his chair over while eating. He had hit his head on the floor. He cried, but he settled down quickly for her. We didn't think twice about it as he was acting normally by the time we arrived home. It had happened just 15 minutes before we arrived. But, that was it. That was the only time in recent weeks that this could have happened. The only time.
I guess CPS accepted our explanation because we didn't have any more interactions with the social worker with the exception of giving our baby sitter's name and number for the record. That's why I called her mother. Can you imagine if CPS called to corroborate our story? It might happen, but at least her parents are prepared.
Phill left for a meeting that he couldn't miss, and I waited for neurosurgery to read the images of Finwe's head and consult with us. At 3:00, a fellow visited with me to say that the fracture was small and not worrisome to him. We could follow up with the neurosurgeon in three months. Finwe had no brain damage as a result of the fracture. That's good.
We waited some more. By this time I had given Finwe some more Tylenol, and he was doing better. He drank some juice and attempted to eat a cracker. He decided that he felt okay enough to walk around the pediatric ER area. The nurses let us. That was the first time since 9am that I had let him out of my arms. It didn't last long, but any sign of normalcy from Finwe was welcome.
Somewhere in all of this the staff had forgotten to tell me that I would need to take Finwe to the eye clinic for a good look at his retinas. This means two types of drops and a tight grip on his body and arms to check for retinal hemorrhaging, a sign of sustained abuse. Okay, fine. Sure. I'll jump that hoop to prove that I love my children and that I'm good to them. I'll do it even though I'm sure my friend is very tired of taking care of four children, even though the forecast is for lots of ice. Sure.
Poor me and Finwe. We walked a long way to the eye clinic. I held him while he screamed as another person put drops in his eyes. I walked around with Finwe again exhausted on my shoulder while his pupils dilated fully. I held him as he screamed so that the doctor could get a good look at his squeaky clean retinas. Then, I lost it as the doctor told me that we'd have to do it all again. The attending physician would have to look at his retinas because it was a suspected abuse case, except the attending was not at this facility. He was twenty minutes away. I'd have to wait.
I didn't yell, but I did call the doctor crazy. I asked him how was this good for my son? I have to hold him again while he screams. He's terrified of all this. He's exhausted. I'm exhausted. Why did you even start the exam without the attending at this facility? How is it safe for any of us that I will have to drive home on icy roads and pick up my other children in an ice storm? I Know I have no choice, but this is ridiculous.
I mad a frantic call to Phill on the verge of tears to find me, to bring me a drink, to bring Finwe a drink and a banana. I need you here so that I don't melt into a puddle of tears. I'm about to break, Phill. I'm too close. To Phill's credit, he was on his way to me while I called him. He was there in a short time sans banana but carrying juice and a snack for us.
We finally left the hospital at 5:15pm. I did drive on ice to get home. My friend was exhausted, but the girls were good for her.
Finwe is doing well. His source of pain was the ears. He's happy. He's normal. He has a skull fracture. I am, at the same time, glad that a system exists to find abused children when they enter the medical system and upset that when abuse is suspected that the attending opthamologist isn't in the room while the exam is being done.
I don't think that I can ever bring Finwe to the doctor's office without him being terribly afraid. I am still drained from the experience. My arms to my back are still sore from holding him for an entire day. If there were a day I would like to change, this past Tuesday would be it.
15 January 2007
What does this portend?
It was a fantastic weekend here in Virginia. The weather was warm. The sun peeked out from the clouds from time to time. Oh, lovely. That meant we spent many hours outside.
We had a party for Olena, Inwe's panda who is now two years old, on Saturday. Friends joined us for pizza and cupcakes.
On Sunday the kids and I were outside playing with the coaster cars. Finwe loves to coast down the driveway as fast as he can. So, I let him do it. I get in front of him to slow his momentum when necessary. He doesn't particularly like this, but he's just 15 months!
During his coasting yesterday, he got out of control. I caught his head in my hands a mere inch above the pavement. My first thought: He needs a helmet already.
So, when he's 16 competing in his first X-games on ESPN, remember that I needed to go shopping for protective gear just a few months after his first birthday.
We had a party for Olena, Inwe's panda who is now two years old, on Saturday. Friends joined us for pizza and cupcakes.
On Sunday the kids and I were outside playing with the coaster cars. Finwe loves to coast down the driveway as fast as he can. So, I let him do it. I get in front of him to slow his momentum when necessary. He doesn't particularly like this, but he's just 15 months!
During his coasting yesterday, he got out of control. I caught his head in my hands a mere inch above the pavement. My first thought: He needs a helmet already.
So, when he's 16 competing in his first X-games on ESPN, remember that I needed to go shopping for protective gear just a few months after his first birthday.
27 September 2006
Just call him Snaggle Tooth
Last night Finwe chipped one of his new front teeth. It was his right upper incisor. He's okay. I'm still shaken.
All three kids were in the bath. Larien was the first to get out as she was completely exhausted from her day. Phill was helping her brush her teeth and I was preparing to get Finwe and Inwe out of the tub. I had already sat Finwe down after he stood up at the edge of the tub. He was beginning to stand up again when he slipped.
I heard the crack as his chin and mouth hit the back corner of the tub. I screamed something resembling, "Oh, good lord! Crap!", as I reached to rescue him. He was wailing as I wrapped him in a towel and rocked him. Phill was by my side instantly looking at him.
"Phill," I cried, "he's chipped his tooth." Looking at the chip was easy as his mouth was open in a constant cry. "It's still in his mouth!" I used my finger to swipe the chip off his tongue. There was no blood, and Finwe quieted in less than two minutes. A minute later as we tried to look closer at his tooth he was chewing on a hard plastic toy. He was no longer fazed by the accident.
I wish I could say the same about me. Although Phill is a pediatrician, I asked him to call the pediatrician that takes care of the kids. In fact, I needed to hear someone else tell me that Finwe was going to be okay and just needed to see a dentist in the next couple of days to file off any sharp edges. That's what our pediatrician said. I'm taking Finwe to the dentist tomorrow.
Phill seriously considered giving me a sedative last night.
All three kids were in the bath. Larien was the first to get out as she was completely exhausted from her day. Phill was helping her brush her teeth and I was preparing to get Finwe and Inwe out of the tub. I had already sat Finwe down after he stood up at the edge of the tub. He was beginning to stand up again when he slipped.
I heard the crack as his chin and mouth hit the back corner of the tub. I screamed something resembling, "Oh, good lord! Crap!", as I reached to rescue him. He was wailing as I wrapped him in a towel and rocked him. Phill was by my side instantly looking at him.
"Phill," I cried, "he's chipped his tooth." Looking at the chip was easy as his mouth was open in a constant cry. "It's still in his mouth!" I used my finger to swipe the chip off his tongue. There was no blood, and Finwe quieted in less than two minutes. A minute later as we tried to look closer at his tooth he was chewing on a hard plastic toy. He was no longer fazed by the accident.
I wish I could say the same about me. Although Phill is a pediatrician, I asked him to call the pediatrician that takes care of the kids. In fact, I needed to hear someone else tell me that Finwe was going to be okay and just needed to see a dentist in the next couple of days to file off any sharp edges. That's what our pediatrician said. I'm taking Finwe to the dentist tomorrow.
Phill seriously considered giving me a sedative last night.
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