Injuries, accidents, and illnesses

A week ago it was brought to my attention, once again, how differently we can treat our families if only we trust them. And ourselves.

A year ago (or thereabouts) my eldest cut his chin open on our portable aircondioner. There was blood. A lot of blood. And even though it was a clean cut, and I’ve been trained, and refreshed, in first aid for the past 6 years, I panicked. I rushed him straight to the GP (knowing ER was 2 mins further down the road but a longer wait) and he was cleaned and steri-strip’d. He was fine with it all thankfully, but was the drama really necessary? What if they’d wanted to suture?

This time, neither of us really thought much of his ‘ow’ until the blood started pouring.. Sylar had been playing with bubblewrap (as you do when you’re 8 months old) and Trystan slipped on it when he was running at the TV (again, as you do!). Trystan clipped the front edge of the TV cabinet, not a corner, and other than the usual upset (normal for Trystan, 2 or not) he quickly recovered. The continuous flow of blood had me concerned, but this was when I felt the light switch. He was fine. I was fine, but most imporantly HE was FINE. Yes there was blood, but he was FINE. He didn’t need doctors. He didn’t need hideously painful cleaning procedures. He didn’t need a shot to ‘protect’ him from our own furniture. He didn’t need suturing to help for his wounds to heal. He only needed his mumma present for him. And perhaps some rescue remedy.
A revelation.

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