I can't believe I have to use this graphic again. John and I took some time to go out Friday night to get new light fixtures for the living room when we received a phone call from Ellie. Griffin was going down the hill on his scooter and had fallen off. He was scraped up a bit, but Maggie had been able to help him using all her girls camp training. The problem was he hit his head and Ellie was sure he had a concussion. We figured she was overreacting, but told her we would be right home. (Fortunately, Lowe's is less than a mile away.) He didn't even pull the car in all the way joking that one of us would be on our way to the hospital.
When John checked out Griffin's head, he looked at me and said, "Um, we need to get him to the hospital. Feel this." I assured him that I didn't need to feel anything but would take him. He said, "No, you have to feel this." Even as I was touched the edge of the goose egg, I could tell it was bad. So we were off to the hospital with another head injury, different child.
Griffin was really worried about what was going to happen. As we encountered each person, he would pitifully ask, "Do you have a needle?" to which everyone could answer, "No, I don't." That was followed by, "Are you going to use leeches on me?" Now, where this came from, I can't tell you, but he was convinced that leeches were somehow involved in his treatment. He also would ask if he was going to die. They were able to reassure him that this was probably the one place they could help prevent that, so he didn't need to worry. The evaluated him and took him in a wheelchair (the highlight of his stay) for a CT scan where they confirmed a fractured skull. As they debated whether or not to keep him overnight for observation, they realized his anxiety levels were so high that he would probably recover better from home. So I got the night shift and was on duty to wake him every two hours to see if he could answer simple questions. The only one that worried me was the 4 a.m. awaking because he couldn't tell me much and the answers were coming out as gibberish. It took about 15 minutes of trying to rouse him to a sufficient level of consciousness, but once we got there, it was clear that he was okay, just really tired from all the activities and injury. I, on the other hand, didn't sleep at all that night (yes, I was really fresh and firing on all cylinders for Maggie's BYU interview).
He stayed home from church yesterday where we re-enacted Captain Moroni and the Title of Liberty (granted, on a smaller scale). He still has a headache, which we certainly expect, and a diminished appetite and activity level, but seems to be mending well. I only hope he'll get back on his scooter again--this time with the helmet he's supposed to wear when riding it.
I guess we've achieved our hat trick of head injuries with the kids. Only Ian left. Maybe I'll make him walk around with a helmet 24/7.