There are times when you just know something is wrong.
Last night, when Chase uttered a yell from the bathroom, we all gathered anxiously outside the door. We have one of those shower heads that can be lifted and held to massage sore muscles. The bracket that holds it in place has been unreliable lately. Last week, Chase told me it hit him on the head when it fell from its holder. I suppose I should have replaced it right away, or at least used massive amounts of duct tape to hold it up temporarily. Should've, could've, would've.
It fell again last night, while he was sitting in the tub. He was groaning a bit, and muttering about it hitting him. On our side of the door, we strained to hear him. Was he hurt? All I understood was that the shower head hit him in the face. Was he OK? Should we come in? Chase has the family gene that does not allow for simple yes or no responses. I was getting impatient.
"Either throw a towel over yourself and open the door, or I'm coming in now."
Nothing like having mom threaten to walk in on you naked to elicit a response. From behind the door I could hear movement, more groans, and then the door opened. I don't think any of us expected the blood. After taking some time to apply pressure and then clean up to see what, exactly, we were dealing with, I could tell the inch long gash under his eye would require stitches.
And so began our long night. It started with calls to our insurance company to find out where we should go. Our insurance is having disagreements with the hospital we normally use for emergencies. We ended up going to two different hospitals, because the first one didn't have an ER. Good thing he wasn't bleeding more. Especially since we ended up waiting two and a half hours at the second hospital because someone came in in critical condition after us. By the time his cut was closed and we left the hospital, it was 4AM. I have a feeling my husband thought he would be more rested at the end of his week of vacation.
So now my son has seven new stitches above his old scar. His right cheek has had a total of ten stitches. Let's hope that's enough for one lifetime. And an important lesson has been learned. Again. Anything that can fall on your head gets bumped (no pun intended) to the top of the "to do" list.