As the saying goes, "Boys will be Boys" which means they are bound to get into some trouble. Sometimes this trouble involves emergency calls and visits to the hospital. From my own personal experience, boys tend to visit the emergency room more than girls. Take for example my brother and I, I have been to the emergency room once in my life. On the other hand, before the time my brother was 4, he was probably there about 5-10 times (or at least it seemed that way). While they were all "accidents", it seemed trouble followed him (and still does).
As the mom of an overactive son, I knew an emergency call was going to happen sooner rather than later. I highly doubted that he would follow in his Mom's footsteps but rather more like his Dad who has had his share of broken body parts and stitches. The call came on Monday. I was at work ready to hit the bricks at around 5:30 (which is super unusual for me -- call it mother's instincts) when I received a call from Wally on my cell. The conversation was odd. Wally acting very formal. I knew something had to be wrong. After the formalities, he told me that there had been an accident with Ben (the now worst phrase in the English language). I asked if he was okay. He explained very calmly, but with a slight edge in his voice, that he had put a blanket on his head (something he likes to do that we discourage) and was walking around when he fell into the coffee table. Wally also said that there was a lot of blood but it had finally stopped. The worst of it was that his tooth was now pushed back -- his fabulously straight teeth were now not so perfect. I asked, most importantly, how was Ben feeling and Wally said that he had calmed down --though I heard his cries in the background.
I rushed out of work without looking back to head home to my injured son. I cursed every driver along the way. Why is it every time you need to get someplace the world's slowest driver has to box you in? With my road rage flaring, I made it home in one piece to see Ben. And Ben was Ben, all smiles like nothing ever happened. I asked Ben to open his mouth so I could assess the situation and my heart broke when I saw his little front bottom tooth pushed all the way towards the back of his mouth. I also noticed the blood all over Wally's shirt at the same time. Wally and I both looked at each other what should we do?
Before I finish the rest of the story, let me start off by saying contrary to popular belief I am not a hypochondriac mother. In fact, up until that very moment, I had never called in an emergency to the doctor. But with Ben's tooth looking sad and Wally's shirt splattered in blood, I knew the time had come to make the "off hours" call. I first called Ben's Pediatrician and they said as long as (and I quote) "his lip isn't busted" then I should call a dentist to see if he could be seen. Next issue, Ben is under 2 and hasn't seen a dentist yet. So I opened up the phone book and found the name of a children's dentist in Morristown. Thankfully, it happened to be one of the best calls I have made. I was hesitant to make the emergency page to the doctor but I said F-it. I realized at that moment I didn't care what the dentist thought of me my son's health was more important than a doctor's possible snide "another overprotective mom" comment. The dentist called me immediately back. She was completely understanding and actually said that I did the right thing by calling. I was given specific instructions by the dentist and was asked to bring him in on Wednesday.
That night, I hugged Benjamin tighter than I ever have before. I also said a prayer of Thanksgiving to God knowing that we could have been dealing with much worse. I think Wally and I also learned a little bit about ourselves that night. I think we both learned that when a crisis/emergency happens we can be brave enough to handle it when it comes to Ben.
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