Tooting His Own Horn

So. We've talked about The Boy before. 

He's seriously going to kill me. Or himself...I'm not sure which will come first.

Last night we were all sitting around the house, minding our own business, when the (relative) peace was broken by a sudden blood-curdling shriek. I've been around the parenting block enough to know the difference between a sympathy-fishing scream and a real-life-I-just-got-hurt-badly scream. This was the latter.

Turns out, our son was walking up the stairs blowing on small PVC pipe (he was calling it his musical instrument) when he suddenly tripped...stabbing himself in the back of the mouth! By the time I got there he had blood bubbling out of his mouth and his nose. Not pretty. After a rocky few moments we were able to get the bleeding, and the screaming, stopped. And he seemed okay.

This morning I called my pediatricians office, just to make sure I shouldn't be more concerned than I was...it was still looking pretty grotesque. The nurse asked a couple questions then suggested that we follow up with an ENT to make sure he hadn't "done any damage to his palette". I asked her which ENT she would recommend only to be told that I should take him to whoever could see him immediately. (Red flag?)

So, we found someone.

Curtis was sufficiently prepared for a doctor visit with his gun/holster and a pair of Cars bandaids on each shin (covering his other blood-letting fall down some stairs). The doctor came in, looked at his injured mouth, then excused himself to "make a phone call". (Red flag?)

He came back in, the picture of calm, to inform me that he had called the emergency room at Primary Children's and that they were expecting us.

(Um...huge, bright, crimson-red flag!)

This is what I learned: Apparently the carotid artery lies dangerously close to the location of his injury. They were concerned that any blunt force to the area may have damaged the artery and created a risk of it rupturing. It was possible that the ER doctors might choose to inject a dye into his bloodstream and do a CT scan to see how the artery was faring. (Oh, crap.)

Off we went. I numbly called to try and find my husband at work, made sure my girls were okay with Ivana, and called my sister to freak out a little bit.

Meanwhile, Curtis was having the time of his life. He shot all the "bad guys" on the freeway. At the hospital he threw coins in the fountain and wished "that his mom could be so happy" (awww!). He flirted with all the nurses. And he was so very, very excited to watch Spongebob Squarepants. (We don't have cable.)

The highlight of the experience, however, was his "very own room at the hospital place". He has since asked to return to "his room" many, multiple, times. Go figure.

He patiently allowed 8 different doctors and nurses to look in his mouth. They consulted, we waited. They called others in to look, and we waited. Then, as an answer to some fervent prayers, we were given leave to go. No injection. No CT scan. Nothing besides a reminder to make sure he doesn't walk around with stuff in his mouth. (Thanks. I'm fairly certain I knew that. I'm sure I will continue to help my son know that...and I'm also pretty convinced Curtis will do whatever he feels like doing. But, thanks.) 

For now? Well, we are simply thrilled to have him safe and sound and fatal-injury free. Thank heavens!

Literally.