Visiting Daddy

So, yesterday was Sunday. Like most Sunday mornings I was feeling half asleep. I was running behind schedule, trying to get the kids and myself ready to go to church.
Trey was ready. I had accomplished that much. He kept following me around asking for a popsicle. I took Kayelynn into her room to get her dressed. Trey came in with a popsicle trying to get it open. (We're talkin' ice pops here. The kind that you buy and then have to go home and freeze them. These are his favorites. )
For the twentieth time, I tell him no and instruct him to go into the kitchen "and put that popsicle right back where you found it!"
It wasn't too much longer and I took Kayelynn back to the living room. (I decided I needed to press her dress quickly) When I came around the corner, Trey looked up at me with big round eyes. "Mommy.." He whimpered. He lifted his hands where I could see them. They were covered with blood! I was alarmed to say the least. I hadn't been expecting to see that! At first I thought he had a nose bleed and had gotten his hand dirty that way. But, I was looking at a clean face. "The ife, the ife" Trey said in a scared voice. (Translated that means- the knife! the knife!). As I look down at the couch, I begin to see the whole picture. There is a slightly melted blue popsicle lying next to one of the biggest, sharpest knives I own.
I rushed Trey to the bathroom for a closer inspection. It was his finger. He'd sliced it about half way around under the nail bed. Blood was running everywhere. "Its not as much as it seems" I kept telling myself. It seems like my nursing instincts disappear whenever the kids are hurt. (I once sat frozen while Trey choked on a teething biscuit. My mom and sister had to rescue him from his highchair, turn him upside down and beat him on the back to dislodge the cookie piece)
I had taken a cold wash cloth and wrapped it around Trey's finger. I was trying to hold pressure on it but Trey was crying now and trying to hide his finger from me. In just a few minutes the wash cloth was completely red. Oh boy. I thought. This isn't just a scratch. I put wash cloth number two on as Trey screams like his finger has actually fallen off. It doesn't take long to see that the bleeding isn't slowing down.
"We're going to have to go to the hospital" I announce. This statement causes Trey's wailing to go to a whole new level. I am digging through the laundry to find something decent enough to wear. (I was still in my pajamas). I tried to hurry thinking how awful it would be if Trey bled to death because I couldn't find something to wear.
I scooted Trey towards the front door and scooped up the baby (who had of course, gravitated to the puddle of blue popsicle). Within a minute or two we were in the car and headed towards town.
"Don't drive so fast. It hurts my finger." Trey mumbled. I had called Rex to tell him we were coming. Now, all I could concentrate on was getting to the hospital before anything else could go wrong.
As we drove by our church, Trey tried to convince me to take him there instead of the hospital. Halfway to the hospital Trey was looking a bit pale. He closed his eyes and slouched over in his car seat. "Trey Buddy, you ok?" I asked. " I sink I jus need a little rest" he said quietly. We made it to "Daddy's Hospital" and I hurriedly got us all out of the car. We were walking towards to ER entrance when Trey asked "what do those letters spell?". I looked to where he was pointing. "Emergency" I told him. He sounded scared now. "Is this an emergency?".
"Well, kind of" I told him.
As we walked in,the receptionist eyed the bloody wash cloth that Trey clutched around his finger. "You must be Dr. Stroud's little boy" she said. I guess we were expected. She directed us back to a room that was saved for us. Trey instantly freaked out once we were in the little sterile looking environment. He cried and begged not to sit on the bed (stretcher).
Rex came in about that time. But there was no way Trey was going to let go of his wash cloth and show his finger. Finally, Rex ended up holding the baby while I inspected the finger. "It looks a lot better" I said. "No it doesn't!" Trey wailed. It was hardly bleeding now. I tried to describe the scene at home so Rex wouldn't think I was crazy for bringing Trey in.
We watched the finger for a bit. Rex was hoping not to have to traumatize Trey with stitches. The spot the cut was in didn't lend itself to gluing either. So, 15 minutes later we left the ER with some ointment and a band aid. I felt stupid. Rex just smiled. "It was worse at home" I said. "That's what they all say" my doctor husband replied.
So home we went, crisis averted. Trey's finger did rebleed later that day while he was playing. I made him a super splint/dressing (that came with a bowl of ice cream on the side) and all has been well since.
Trey's still not about to let anyone touch his finger. He warned me this morning that he'd cry if I took his band aid off. He has also made a very solemn vow to never play with "ifes" again.