Matt fought the fence...

Mid-July trips to the Emergency Room are becoming something of a bad habit in my family... this 'tradition' started last summer when Rich suffered from heat stroke during the Presque Isle Half-Marathon (for details, see Even bad days sometimes end well) and continued this past weekend thanks in part to Little League Baseball.

Our Blue Demons (I think that's what they are calling themselves) played their first tournament at Marion Walker and we were all excited to watch the boys play.  Over the last few weeks, their fielding has gotten much better.  So has their hitting and base running.  And while we've scrimmaged against the two other ball clubs from State College, we were all looking forward to playing against  other tournament teams.

The opening game of our tournament was Friday night at 7:00... Matt was scheduled to bat in the top of the second inning.  As the batter in the hole, Matt was responsible for picking up the bat of the boy who was just at the plate (and who you hope is hanging out on first base).  In his rush to get out to the field, he pushed a gate that was not meant to be pushed and it snapped back into his face; the gate latch caught him across his right cheekbone.  Rich, who was the substitute bench coach for the game, called me out of the bleachers and I realized pretty quickly that Matt was hurt.  But it wasn't until I got close that I began to realize it was something serious.

I had another coach grab me some gauze from the team's first aid kit so that I could get a look at the cut... I knew instantly that he'd need stitches.

To Matt's credit, aside from the instant fear brought on by the word "stitches", his biggest concern was that he was going to have to leave the game.  Without batting.  Couldn't we just put a band-aid on it and letting him finish out the game?  Oh how I wish it was that easy...

Within minutes, we were on our way out to the Emergency Room, Rich a little more freaked out than I was (sometimes this mostly useless nursing degree comes in handy). 

The Emergency Room instantly reminded me of why I hate the Emergency Room, especially on the weekend.  Even though Matt was no longer actively bleeding, as a seven-year old boy with a fairly deep cut across his face, I would have liked for him to be seen immediately.  However, it's first come, first serve in the ER and we were #6 in the queue.  That's the joy of a Friday night in a college town, I suppose.

Waiting to be seen in the ER

After what felt like an eternity, we were called back to triage and then whisked off to a treatment room.  Not long after, a PA came in see us.  Interestingly, she asked what kind of fence Matt walked in to.  Rich starts rattling off a very detailed description of the fence, the latch, the way in which is appeared from his vantage point that Matt had gotten hurt.  I simply said the fence was "sharp".  I'm told that most often, it's Dad that cracks bad jokes while Mom shares the most minor of details.  But humor is my defense mechanism of choice and I was nervous for my little boy.  Bad jokes were all I had to help (though I can proudly say that after a moderate effort, I was able to get Matt laughing).

I asked Matt if he wanted to see his cut before they started to stitch him up... and when he said yes, I pulled out the camera (the camera that was supposed to be taking pictures at the baseball field instead).  The cut, or to be technical, the 'laceration' was roughly an inch long.  And as you can see, not too far from his eye.  So despite everything, I think we all understood that this could easily have been much, much worse.  

Our nurse came in to apply a lidocaine gel to the site and then cover it with a surgical site cover - something she compared to Saran Wrap (though much more sticky).  Somehow, with the 'Saran Wrap' cover, it looked pretty gruesome.  Though from Matt's perspective, it started to feel much better... the first sign that the lidocaine was doing it's job.

Matt asked what it was going to feel like when they did the stitches and was told that he'd feel a little tugging on his skin but nothing more.  I remember this sensation really well - that's exactly what it felt like when each of the kids were born.  Matt's always known that he was cut out of my belly (a much easier way to explain how babies are born in my opinion) so I reminded him of this.  I told him I was awake while they took not just one, but two people out of my belly.  And I let him know that I didn't feel a thing.  Surely if the can remove people from your body without causing any pain, the doctors and nurses could put a few stitches into a cut.

When it came time to do the stitches, they covered Matt with a little sterile drape which was perfect as it obstructed his view of what they were about to do.  I laid down on the gurney beside Matt and talked to him through the procedure.  And I watched.  It's not a pretty sight watching that curved needle move in and out of your son's cheek.  He didn't notice a thing... Hooray for lidocaine!!!

In the end, he got four stitches.  Afterward he said "Stitches aren't as bad as I thought.  But if I ever get stitches again, and I hope that I don't, but if I do, can I get that cold gel (the lidocaine) again?"

Sure, buddy.  But let's try to avoid walking into things like fences and other sharp objects for a while.  

Matt's coach called us as soon as the game was over to see how Matt was doing.  He let us know that the team lost 17-14.  And we learned about one of the most offensive rules (at least to the mother of a wounded child) of Little League tournaments... because Matt started the game and because he was part of the original batting order, each time he was due to come up to the plate for the entire game, it counted as an out against our team... which is quite the disadvantage at this level.  I imagine that without this rule, our team would have likely come out on the winning side of the game...  

We were back at the field on Saturday morning to the cheers of his teammates and the inquires of little boys... some of whom were more than happy to look at the stitches or the pictures I had on the camera.  Over the course of the morning, we bumped into coaches and parents from the other two State College teams, some of which had already heard about Matt's accident.  Seems we're sorta famous now in the 7/8 year old baseball circuit, though I assure you this is not the thing you want to be known for.  

To Matt's credit, he was more than ready to play.  Afterward, his coach told me that he was happy to see Matt come back out on Saturday morning.  He said that it says a lot about Matt's character and that I should be really proud of him.

Of course I am.  He was very brave through everything on Friday night (I suspect in part because of the ice cream bribe I offered at the end of the procedure), he really enjoys playing baseball and is committed to his team.  All great qualities for a seven-year old...

Now, if we could just do something about this family 'tradition' before next summer.  I'm the only one in the family who's not had a visit to the ER.  And I would really like to keep it that way.