Friday, March 19, 2010
I do not like blood. I do not like open wounds. I do not like emergency rooms. And now, I do not like canned corn. After getting home from a day at the doctors office, I decided to whip up some very quick supper: tacos with some corn on the side. I opened the can of corn and dumped it in the bowl. I pushed the lid down in the can as to not cut myself and I chunked it in the trash. I had a little thought "I should be careful with this, Kirk could cut himself." But, I quickly dismissed it and went on with the other zillion things I had on my to do list. I walked out of the kitchen and down the hall and about 2 seconds later I heard my boy screaming bloody murder....I knew exactly what had happened. I ran into the kitchen to see him by the trash with one of his fingers stuck down inside the can. I freaked COMPLETELY out. Somehow, I got it unstuck, although now I'm not sure how it happened. The second I pulled it out blood started flying EVERYWHERE. I panicked, and then Danny saw it and he started panicking. I called my nurse mom to come check it out, because I couldn't look at it....I'm a wimp. So, she said that it needed stitches. Here comes the fun part. If any of you know my son, you know how much he LOVES being held down (heavy sarcasm). So, I have a rag trying to hold pressure on his finger while we are driving to the hospital. Much fun. By the time we get there, we are both covered in blood. So, after dealing with a very jerky nurse man, the doctor comes in and says yes he needs stitched up. An hour later (still holding the rag on his finger I might add) they come in and glue him up instead of stitches (whew). It took 2 nurses, Danny, and me to hold him down for the doctor to glue. No fun. Blah. Poor kid whimpered in his sleep all night. And, I officially can never eat canned corn again.