Saturday, January 12, 2008
It's not that it's deep. It's just that you can see so much of his skull.
Cell phone conversation that I had with The-Guy on the way to the emergency room:
The-Guy - How deep is it?
Me - It's not that it's deep. It's just that you can see so much of his skull.
Him - That's deep enough
If you are easily grossed out, you should probably quit reading now. And if you've never had the opportunity to discuss the depth of a head wound, watch out for those monkey bars!
Jared was supposed to have a skateboarding birthday party today. But since we happened to be in the emergency room yesterday afternoon, we decided on stitches instead. It was SO GROSS!
The PE teacher must not have noticed that she could have set a nickel down on the piece of his skull that was exposed, because she sent him to the boy's restroom to wash it out for himself.
In her defense, the fact that he was gushing blood onto his clothing, legs and shoes may have blocked her view. Surely not being able to see the severity of a wound because of all the blood is a good reason not to send a child directly to the nurse, right? Have I mentioned it was TOTALLY GROSS?
My cousin thought we should have left the wound open, since Jared considered it all kinds of cool. When I mentioned he would have a hard time getting dates, my cousin assured me that a select group of women would actually find it attractive. And since the women who make up the select group are not all that desirable, he said, Jared would have the pick of the litter.
In a distantly related note, since Jared couldn't have his skateboard party, I decided to call and ask for my 10 year old's very favorite song about alcoholism and whatnot, Highway 87 by Hayes Carll.
So Jared didn't get his skating party, but he did get to have the DJ wish him happy birthday over the radio. He got to have a song played just for him on one of my favorite radio shows. He got to have pizza with his friends.
And he got twenty four stitches, four of them in the muscle. Did I tell you guys how totally GROSS it was?
The plastic surgeon kept using the words "traumatic head injury" while he was sewing, which is actually not something I enjoyed hearing. But then I was the one who refused to leave the room, so I get what I get.
Of course I promised Jared both that I'd print out a picture of the wound for him to take to school and that I'd publish the gore to the internet. So if you're my dad or anyone else who doesn't particularly enjoy gore (Have I said it was REALLY GROSS?), this is your last chance.
Here's my boy's brain. OKAY! It's only his skull! Sorry it's a crappy cell phone picture.
I might not have been the very FASTEST mom to ever rush her son to the emergency room, but at least I chose against stopping home for the camera: