A crushing experience

You never know what a day may bring forth.

We took the children to McDonald's after church tonight for a special treat. Tyler needed a diaper change, so I carried him and the diaper bag and my purse to the restroom. I found two wipes in my tiny plastic wipes container, and this particular McDonald's doesn't stock paper towels. Now how will a hand-dryer help wipe Tyler's hiney? Frustrated, I cleaned him up as best as I could with only two wipes. While I washed my hands, I let him roam around the bathroom. He's been walking four or five months now, and it's a wonderful break to not have to carry him everywhere.

I decided to let him walk back to the playground.

He walked out first, and I slowly let the heavy door close behind me. I saw Tyler's hand quite close to the hinge-side of the door, so I stopped the door and leaned down to ask him to move his fingers. I noticed his finger had actually been caught already and shoved the door open to release it. He started screaming.

Blood was everywhere. Paper towels were not.

I forced his finger under a stream of water amidst his terrible howls of pain. Every time I pulled it out to look at it, the blood just ran down his hand, on my shirt, down the sink, on the countertop. I tried my best to stop the bleeding and clean the counter with toilet paper, but come on. Really??!

At some point, I noticed the wound lay across the center of his middle fingernail, but the cut extended out from the fingernail on either side a quarter of an inch. I actually thought he might be at risk for a partial amputation for a moment.

It was dreadful.

I admit, I freaked out a little. I ran out, blood running all over, yelling for Chris, who was playing with the children. (I grabbed napkins on my way in.) He calmly sat with Tyler, still screaming in pain, and asked me for some ice. When I told the McDonald's employees the situation and asked for ice, they complied politely, but offered no help. One kid did ask, "I can't figure out how that happened."

I wasn't in the mood to explain.

I thought we were headed to the minor med for at least stitches. The Fussells from church had ended up at McDonald's as well, and I think God puts us in places sometimes we feel benignly when He has specific purposes and plans in mind for us. They certainly had a purpose there tonight--offering help to us in this semi-emergent situation.

I assumed we were on our way to the hospital for a few stitches.

Chris later assessed the situation and thinks Tyler might have broken the bone. Having recently worked in the ER as a nurse, he was able to tell me what they would do in the hospital for a broken fingertip, and we replicated it at home.

I'm proud of my husband, who certainly kept his cool and took care of our poor, injured baby tonight. I'm pleased to report that Tyler is sleeping soundly, band-aid and popsickle-stick-splint in place, Tylenol taking the edge off the pain.

I'm also amused to report that Chris broke HIS fingertip playing softball in 2000. Did he go to the doctor then? Of course not.

I love to remind myself that God is in control of my life and the lives of my children. While I could spend the evening berating myself for letting my baby smash his finger in the door, I realize that God has a purpose in it. While I could worry that we should take him to a certified, bonified, medified clinic, I rest in my husband's decision and knowledge. Jesus tells us to rest in Him and be anxious for nothing, but instead, to pray. I also smile to think that God put us and the Fussells in the same place at the same time for a reason.

So pray I will, and then rest I will... because all this excitement has worn me out.