Peter's Stitches

My youngest son, Peter, has had a very rough week. After 6 days of a low grade fever, the docs put him through a battery of x-rays, blood tests, as well as miscellaneous probing and prodding. He was diagnosed with pneumonia and put on antibiotics, and on Sunday was feeling back to normal.

So, Sunday afternoon we were over at our friends' house when Peter and his amigo/partner-in-crime decided to play tug of war with an elastic exercise band (the kind used for basic resistance exercises). As should be expected by parents in situations like this, one of them is guaranteed to let go, and Peter was on the losing end of the *snap* that we heard out in the living room.

Peter let out a scream of pain and anguish unlike any I have ever heard. It was a completely new type of scream, if you get my gist. You would classify it with the tags "what the ^$%!", "extreme pain", and "mom, help".

We ran to the next room, whereupon he jumped into his mother's arms and proceeded to cling tightly to her, as he continued to howl. Oh yeah, and he was bleeding all over her shirt and there was blood all over the floor. Nice.

The handle from the other end must have hit him on the left part of his chin, cleaning splitting it open and leaving a nice, gaping wound. Can't fix that one with a band-aid and kiss - no way, no how.

So, off to urgent care. Three hours and seven stitches later, and the ordeal was pretty much over. The bleeding stopped by the time we arrived at urgent care, which was a relief, and Peter was a champ getting the stitches.

He gets them removed today, as his pediatrician doesn't want to leave them in too long to help prevent scarring ( "No, not the face!" )

"It's OK dad, chicks dig scars!"