The trauma was not just to Sam's face - teeth through the bottom lip - but it was felt by each nurse who had to hold him down. It took 4 people (Phil and 3 nurses), two doses of a sedative (that had no apparent effect), and one very patient doctor who was good with a needle to get the 7 stitches in. Three on the outside, 4 in the inside. He was also basically straight jacketed and made one nurses arms go numb because she was using all of her strength to hold him still. The Bubba fought hard. Really hard. I thought he was going to pop a vein in his neck. Poor guy.
I assured Phil it was likely NOT our last ER trip for stitches. Thinking about how many times I've had stitches in my clumsy life, I can almost guarantee it. But hey, we might get lucky. We do have that famous Boyer Luck.
By the time the evening came, he had his energy back. He was running full speed (as our hearts raced at their own full speed) and the flapping of his bottom lip was vibrating his sounds in a way he thought entertaining. Well, we all did. Once in a while he points to his lip and says "No". As if he doesn't want there to be stitches. He doesn't want it to hurt anymore. And I'm with him. I say "No" too. And then I give him another pop-sicle.
|BS. Before stitches. (and someone needs another haircut - it's a mop!)|
|BS. Cookies and milk in the tent.|
|AS. After stitches. Big 'ole fat lip. :(|
|still damn cute though.|
|And happy to have a Mommy who will gladly give him more cheese balls when he's already had to many. I'm not saying no to this kid for at least a few days.|
|And for a kid who already drools like a banshee, this whole big lip thing has more pouring out than I thought possible.|