Son One and Son Two were vigorously debating whether the door should be open or closed, and Son Two smashed his thumb in the Door. I, of course, was not home, not that my husband was doing anything wrong, but still. I was actually at the dentist having a root canal. Did you know that there are people who cannot be properly numbed by novicaine? You do now. I spent the entire two hour appointment with the tears leaking into my ears and holding my own hands down. The chirpy receptionist came in and asked how much longer we would be, as my husband was on the phone and thought my son had a broken thumb. Note: this is a good way to split without paying your co-pay.
So, we trooped off to my very own hospital and had it x-rayed. Note: the PICU nurses are not well known in the ED, and we did not receive any extra love. No un-love, just no love. The radiologist will read the x-ray in the morning, and in the meantime, he has no obvious fracture. But he is three, and he said to me “Mommy, the ban-aid is not working” meaning it was still hurting. I, who spend a lot of my professional life sticking children with needles and otherwise causing them grief, was moved to tears.
We are home now, and he has had a dose of Tyco (tylenol with codeine) and I have suddenly realized that my mouth hurts.
While I was at the hospital, I realized that I have a Pavlovian connection between Diet Coke and being in that building. I began craving the Diet Coke as soon as I passed through the metal detector and was not able to not think of it for more than a few minutes the whole time we were there. Everytime we made a move- from ED to x-ray, from x-ray to the ED, then over to the cast room, I was calculating if we would pass the vending area, and fretting that I had only a $20 in my pocket, and thus would need to get change. I got home and downed two cans.