Scott's Adventure Last Night

So it's Sunday night, about 9:00 pm and Scott just returned from a fireside. He reaches for a glass to get a drink of water and take his vitamin when the glass starts to slip. He tries to brace it to save it from falling to the tile floor but ends up crushing it between his hand and the edge of the counter top. After pulling a shard of glass out of his hand and seeing his tendon make an appearance, he hollers for me to come help. He tries to move his feet towards the sink to stop dripping blood on the floor but the floor is covered in glass. He hollers out again.

Downstairs, I am typing a story about my childhood and I hear something fall so when he hollers to call to me, I think he is just wanting to chuckle how clumsy we are today because earlier I broke to bits my crystal pitcher we received as a wedding present. When Scott he keeps hollering, I think for sure he wants me to help clean up the glass or that he wants to show me how far the glass traveled from the point of impact.

After a few hollers, I travel up the stairs and find him with his hands in the air, dripping slow, big drops of blood. His stocking feet are precariously straddling the glass so I begin to sweep right off to clear a path for him to the sink. I put a band-aid on the wound and then keep sweeping and cleaning up the quarter-sized blood droplets scattered on the floor-at least five of them, not too bad. I ask him what he wants to do. He decides that seeing his tendon wasn't a pretty sight and that he wants to get stitches. I ask him if I should wake up Kate or if he wants to go alone when the phone rings.

I answer the phone, it's my Dad. Without even asking why he called I tell him what happened and he heads right over. Within 10 minutes he's at the house. He takes Scott to Insta Care but they close at 9:00 pm and it's 15 minutes too late. So to the ER the go.

At the ER, they do a few X-Rays to make sure no shards of glass remain in the wound. They give him multiple shots right in the gaping wound to deaden the pain-ironic don't you think? They give him four stitches and a tetanus shot and send him home by 11:00 ish pm.

I'm really impressed that he knew he needed stitches. I am surprised that I didn't have to convince him to go. He is covered in battle scars of owies of long past that should've been stitched up. Has he grown up? Is he learning? Maybe.

I think his mother would be proud of her boy.