Monday, 30 March 2009

Just another day in A & E

There's too many things to tell you all - I don't even know where to begin.

If I'd written a post on Saturday night I would have told you all about the Superhero party we went to and the two beautiful Supergirl costumes I picked up on e-bay for a third of the normal retail price (I just love a bargain). The party was fabulous, of course, and Renée and Edie had a blast - believing pehaps that for two hours, at least, they were indeed Supergirls. I remember those days of feeling invincible and it made me a touch nostalgic and sad to think that I am no longer. And neither is Renée - more on that in a minute.

But I didn't write a post on Saturday night because for some inexplicable reason (nothing to do with screaming children, too much chocolate and a long drive back in the dark with contact lenses that needed changing), I had a raging headache and it was all I could do to put my two Supergirls in bed before I hit the sack myself.

And if I'd written a post yesterday afternoon I could have told you about the wonderful time we'd had at the sushi restaurant and how proud I am that my children eat raw fish without pulling funny faces and despite the cost (don't ask), it's Renée's favourite treat and we all ate so much that I'm now full up for the rest of the week. But I didn't write about that either because I was overly shattered and all I could think about was getting the girls into bed before I sat down with a cup of tea to get my Sunday night fill of Lost. That was until...

'Waaahhhhhhhhhh'. Renée's piercing screams jolted me away from whatever it was I was doing (strangely I can not recall although it probably had something to do with reading someone else's blog).

Now for those of you who've ever visited our house, you'll know those bloody lethal concrete steps that lead into the sitting room and you can thus envisage the carnage. For those who don't, I'm sure you can imagine. In case you can't, I shall describe the scene of devastation for you. Renée was lying flat out with her chin literally stuck to the edge of the step, blood spewing forth like a pressurised leaking pipe. Through her blood, tears and snot she uttered the most heartbreaking of words.

'Mummy I think I need a plaster'.

'Ooh, I think you're gonna need more than a plaster sweetie'.

It's times like this I could really do with a husband. But hold on, I have one...oooh he's just a hundred thousand miles away in Zambia and I'm left to pick up the pieces (literally - I think there was something that looked a bit like flesh on the step).

Husband - if you're reading this, I'm sorry. I know you'd be here if you could and you're away earning money for us so we can live and eat (more sushi) - but really, I needed you yesterday. A LOT.

So, with poor Renée trying her hardest to be brave whilst clutching a red sodden piece of loo paper to her chin, I attempted to get Edie dressed for the car journey. She had, up until that moment, been wondering around naked, teasing me, as she does, with promises of potty use. No little presents have yet been delivered into the potty, but the teasing promises are there nonetheless. Edie decided, of course, that she would rather scream and throw one of her delightful tantrums than put a nappy on, but as it was rather imperative we left the house as soon as possible, a nappy it was. Two screaming children, plenty of blood, snot and sweat (all mine) later we arrived at the hospital.

Now I don't know if any of you are familiar with the Royal Sussex County Hospital, but if you are, you will know that it has recently been re-designed with the new addition of an ultra-modern children's hospital. All very lovely, apart from the fact that the car park is now about a ten minute walk from A & E. Fine if you're visiting, but possibly not fine if you're in labour and definitely not fine if you have two screaming children (one with a gash the size of a small mobile phone and a constant drip, drip, drip of blood and the other with arms in the air demanding to be carried). Not fine at all.

I eventually arrived in A & E carrying my two children (both of who weigh about 3 stone), absolutely drenched in sweat (that's the last time I'm responsible enough to make sure we all leave the house wearing full outdoor gear in case we catch a cold), and having the most terrible hot flush. You would have been forgiven for thinking that I was either slightly deranged or going through the menopause. I can assure you neither is the case...yet.

Luckily the woman at reception took pity on us and we were seen almost straight away. And instead of stitches, Renée's chin was literally superglued together. Just like that. She was a total trooper and I salute her for being so brave. I'm relieved to say that the gash is not in the middle of her face, but on the underside of her chin, no bones were broken and I have every hope that she won't be mentally scarred. As for the physical scarring - well, I used to go to school with a girl who had a scar in the exact same place and even though she was slim and there was no sign of any fat, it looked like she had an enormous double chin...

I'm hoping, for Renée's sake that she will be spared that injustice at least.


  1. Ouch - nasty! I'm glad to hear Renee's on the mend. Why is it husbands always seem to be away at times like these?

    My husband is (usefully) a paediatrician - but was he around when the children first got ill (conference in Switzerland) or when my daughter had an operation in Zambia (conference in UK) or when my son had malaria (working in UK)? Hmmm...

    Which leads me on to say how much I hope your husband is enjoying Zambia - it is a wonderful place - and that I feel for you living here without him. Despite the work, he's probably got the better deal.

    All the best!

  2. Oh my goodness! You brave girl to go through this without your husband around! Do you hear this husband? DO YOU HEAR THIS??? Lets not make him feel TOO guilty, I am sure he must be feeling terrible out there, knowing he wasn't around to help you.
    Good to hear that she is better poor little thing... how much you must have ached to see her like this... Hope the 2 of you share lots of cuddles and chocolate to get over the trauma!
    Take care x

  3. I've said it before but on reading your post I feel moved enough to say it again. Poor poor Renee and poor poor poor you. What an absolute nightmare.

    The only consolation must be that you got through it, intact - and, as the saying goes, whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

    And with two little supergirls, I guess that really does make you a Supermum?!! Chin up! ;-)

  4. Arrggh nightmare! It is horrendous when you can see that you really really have to go to the hospital! Thank goodness they could use superglue, littlest man actually had to have a general anaesthetic to repair a hole he made in his lip :( Hope everything has calmed down now and little girl isn't too sore, well done mum for handling it luv Karen x

  5. Holy S***! I was half covering my face with one hand while reading this - a nightmare indeed! I was wondering how on earth you managed to loose these extra 5 stone. Now I know.
    Underside scars are fine and will only give her the mysterious touch. I have one at the underside of my nose, and you would only see it from a very, erm, welll, intimate postion. Or if you were a frog.

  6. Oh Hell. Poor You. It sounds like you coped extremley well though...
    Husbands - mine always away when I have a crisis(& why does something always breakdown when he's not here? does this happen to you too).
    Magic glue is fab stuff - my Little Miss had a close encounter with a coffee table, cut open down to bone, above her eye. I cannot tell you just how gippy I felt when I saw it (shame on me, a nurse!) It's healed & faded well, 3 year's down the line. Coffee table went though...

    You deserve a hug, tea, gin or chocolate (or all)

    Make sure the Husband calls in a duty free on his way home too you.

    Love Lydia xx

  7. Aah thanks everyone - yeah it's definitely not a breeze being a parent (Metropolitan Mum you have all this to come)!! Would have loved to help myself to a glass of wine last night, but alas there was none. Ate about ten million mini chocolate eggs though (meant for Easter). Whoops. Yep, hubby always away in a crisis - not quite sure why that happens, but it does. I'm used to it. Doesn't mean I don't need a hand sometimes though. Husband come!

  8. You got seen straight away? I'm moving south.. Sorry to hear of your nightmare evening, hope all's ok now MH

  9. well done for remaining so calm and coping so well i panic when one of mine fall over and get a bump never mind a huge cut!! husbands are always away when there is a crisis, like the day i've had 2day, he was in bed (he works nights not just lazy lol!) hope she feels better soon and hugs to you all

    amy x x

  10. Oh you poor thing! Last week when my toddler slammed his bedroom door shut, crushing twin 1's fingers in the hinge. They were so mangled I thought I was going to be sick. Twin 2 came to see what the screaming was (Toddler was hysterically, and Twin 1 in shock spasms), dragging her pooey nappy along the landing. It was like being a triage nurse in A&E.
    I do sympathise; these things always happen when we're on our own.

  11. Ouch! Poor Renee, but glad to hear that she was a real Supergirl again when she fell. Hope she's feeling better now.

  12. MH - well we had to wait about 20 minutes, but in my book that's almost straight away (although if you add the walk from the car park then it doesn't seem so good after all).

    Thanks everyone - MtJaM - yikes that sounds hideous - maybe even a little worse than mine - hope fingers are slightly less mangled now..

    These things are sent to try us!

  13. Oh poor you, what a nightmare. I've had several A&E trips, but never one on my own...

  14. Why do these things always always happen when daddy's away?
    Hope all is OK now. Sounds like you really do have a little Supergirl there!

  15. Oh you poor poor things...what a nightmare. And doing it all on your own is truly bleak. Hope that you are all feeling more normal now and that poor chin is on the mend. Ouch.

  16. These things always happen when Daddy's away IS always away.

    Update on chin - seems to be weeping. Yuck...

  17. Oh for the love of Pete you are brave; can't imagine what it felt like to go through that for both you and her, poor thing! Though the "I need a plaster" - understatement of the year - will probably be funny one day. Keep eye out for infection - (weeping?) that's what will cause scar.

  18. Oh my, what an ordeal... I hope your little Supergirl heals up fast. Well done you for keeping your head, I think I would have gone to bits!

  19. What a horrible experience. Hope she's feeling better soon. And well done managing to make it to A&E!

  20. Oh poor little monkey. She was very brave, and her mummy did pretty good too. The glue is amazing isn't it? And it scars less so maybe she'll remain double chinless till she's an old lady and decides to grow her own??

  21. Yes was not a pleasant experience at all...chin seems to have stopped weeping now but the scab is enormous. Sent hubby a photo of it yesterday and he said he was nearly in tears to see how bruised little R was...and that's nearly a week later. But yeah, am hoping glue means less scarring that stitches. Fingers crossed...

  22. We've had the superglue treatment as well. Husband dropped daughter on a rock in the Lake District (he'll never be allowed to forget it) and the doctor in Ambleside glued her head. She thought it was fantastic and so far, no scar!

  23. WM - Oops - that must have been scary for you. Funnily enough, not sure if I'm liking the glue. After a week and a half it still doesn't look like it was stuck together very well and there's a big gap. Hmmm. Time will tell!

  24. Hi, I hope you don't mind, but I stumbled across your blog from somewhere else and I've been enjoying myself reading through your archives.
    This post made me laugh out loud because I did exactly the same thing when I was little. Three times (concrete steps, trampoline frame and leaping off patio table). In one year. The best bit? My Mom was the pharmacist at 'Big City Hospital' and my great-aunt had been drafted to look after me and little brat sister. When we got to the hospital, they paged my Mother over the intercom. You can imagine her face when she appeared after hearing "Mrs. B., your daughter is in casualty". After the third time though, it was more "Mrs. B. your daughter is in casualty...again."
    I have some impressive scars under my chin, and a chip out of the bone (that was the leaping off the patio table event) I'm none the worse for wear!
    Tara (