My daughter made me a flower in ER yesterday.

I got home from a long work day at 7 last night. By 8 we were at the hospital. J tripped on a blanky she was wearing as a cape – while running. The little grooves between the hardwood planks opened her chin when she crashed to the floor. The cut, although small, was deep, and flappy enough to warrant stitches. I did the rocking and cuddling with icepack, and BH looked up care options, which turned out to be:  back to the hospital I nominally work for, or to urgent care, which might turn us away as they often reach capacity before closing time.
I chose the Children’s hospital, and I’m glad I did, after seeing the skill that the doc employed in cleaning, taping and gluing the wound. J will have only the tiniest of crescent scars, with any luck.

She was a trooper. I took her in and talked to her about what was happening, and what we could expect, and she was much more concerned about what was happening to the other people around us. There was one huge man, bigger than my (sizeable) BH, with a much smaller woman. I wondered where their child was, or if maybe it was his little sibling (her younger child, I guessed) who they were there for. Imagine my surprise when the big man said he was 15 years old! We made friends with 2 babies and their families.

Then, J’s dad joined us around 10, having put A to bed and found a sitter. The nurses put some freezing on J’s wound, and we waited some more. Eventually we were seen by a doc, but in the meantime one volunteer gave J crayons and pictures to colour, and another gave her a flower and showed her how to make one from tissue paper and a pipe cleaner. J, by that time, was worried about her sister, and decided she would give hers to A, and that I could take the other one and put it on my wall at work. She loved her hospital bracelet, so we told her she could leave it on so she could show her friends at daycare. We had time to reflect on the yin and yang of things – had it been any worse, we would have got out of there sooner.

While we waited, we sat, and cuddled, and BH and I chatted about the real estate magazine he brought in with him. J only complained a little about being tired a few minutes before we saw the doctor, and once when we had to wait again in the procedure room for the exam table to be cleaned. But, mostly, she was soaking up all the new things, and enjoying the full attention of both parents.

A strange way to find some family time, but you take what you can get.

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