The first thing I looked up on Google maps when we knew where we were moving to San Jose, was the location of the nearest hospital. In all honesty, I looked it up for Asher who was then only 10 months but already showing signs of thrill-seeking. Today, Jacob won the race and was the first child in need of stitches. I knew the day was coming. I thought I was ready.
I was sitting in my grammar class in a post-test haze when the secretary of the preschool knocked and requested that I come with her. My first thought was "WHO is it? Jacob or Asher?" and shortly after that, "Oh dear God, today was swim day for Jacob. Please Lord, let him be alive." (Mom brain assumes the worst.) In Spanish, she told me "Jacob has been hit by another student in the chin." I asked if he had cried and she told me he had. I asked if he was ok and she responded with, "We want you to come see him." Yeeeeeah, that can't be good.
Jacob was sitting in the office and he started tearing up when I walked in. His chin was bleeding and then he looked up so I could see a nice puncture in that soft part of your chin close to your throat. My first evaluation was that it wasn't that bad. I've definitely seen worse as a teacher and my days as a certified nurse's aide. I was just going to take him home and slap a band aid on it. Then, one of the office staff told me they had called the paramedics. "¿En serio?" was all I could mutter. As I hardly contain a single ounce of the gift of mercy, I thought this was straight up crazy. He's totally fine. It's not even bleeding anymore. (And side-note, my kid ran in front of his friends swinging, got kicked in the knee, and scrapped his face on the concrete. Surprisingly, they don't have a verb for that in Spanish.)
The paramedic marches in and unlike the staff of our language school, he speaks Spanish at a normal, unforgiving, unintelligible rate. I kept up with most of it and he definitely thought Jacob's wound needed stitches. We moved up to the doctor's office at our school and he has me explain to Jacob in English that he is going to get a shot of anesthetic in the chin before he makes two, maybe three stitches. The sight of the needle sends Jacob into a frenzy. "Is that a needle? What's he going to do to me, Mama? I wanna go home!" I convince him he needs to be brave just like when he gets vaccines. Jacob is relunctant. He won't lay down and the paramedic barks that
I need to be brave because kids never agree to the shot and stitches. I held his arms and legs down as the paramedic gouges the needle into his little fleshy chin, Jacob screaming all the while. I shouldn't have watched. The room got really hot.
AND by this time, school had let out and my kind friends are traipsing in and out of the office. Doctor friend to make sure he's ok. Friend to tell me she'll go get Asher and take him to her house. Friend with my backpack who has called Adam and told him what's happening. And that's when the room starts spinning. I am also sweating like I have never sweat before.
"¡Siéntese!" yells the paramedic and shoves a rolling chair under me. He then digs through his bag and rips open something equal to smelling salts. "¡Respire!" he hollars. Even in the midst of nearly passing out, I think "He just used 'sit down' and 'breathe' in the command form of third person singular, usted." All this studying is affecting my brain. I stand up to go throw up in the bathroom. I come back and he tells me to sit down again. By this time my pharmacist friend has entered the room and is attempting to assist the paramedic in the stitches. Feeling stable, I stand back up to help hold Jacob's hands and legs down (because he is still freaking out) right as the paramedic stabs Jacob's hand with the terrible stitching needle as Jacob reaches for his chin. Blood everywhere. Screaming kid. Faint Mommy. No stitches. I excuse myself to the bathroom and come back composed.
Jacob is refusing to lay back down. He's screaming and panicked and no smidgen of reason is going to affect his resolve. The paramedic insists we get this done. He warns the medicine is going to wear off and he is going to need to administer the aenesthetic another time. Me sharing this with Jacob only sends him into complete conniption. So I do the only thing I know to do and ask him over his screaming if we can pray. He says yes and calms as I say a quick prayer. He lays back down with the understanding that I will pray the entire time he is being stitched up. My friend holds his head, I pin his arms and legs down, and the paramedic stitches. I don't have a clue what words are coming out of my mouth while I am praying but Jacob is laying there with his eyes closed, listening, not moving. After the first stitch, it's obvious that stitches were a wise decision for the gash he had acquired. Somewhere in there, Adam shows up and takes my friends place holding Jacob's head. The paramedic finishes, cleans Jacob up, gives us instructions and we leave to collect missing backpacks and children.
Jacob bounced back to normal pretty quick, wanting to run all the way home. Mom was sick to her stomach and hyper on adrenaline for almost the entire afternoon. Tonight, Jacob shared that this was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. We seized this conversation as an opportunity to share truth: 1.) God is always with us. 2.) Even when things are scary, we can trust the Lord. 3.) God is capable of using our ugly and seemingly bad situations for good ... Jacob is currently keeping an eye out for how the Lord is going to use his experience for good!
My medical Spanish is non-existent. Gained some vocabulary today. He's not impressed.
My poor baby after putting up a good fight.
Two stitches!
