Seriously, when Kaia asks you, "Will this hurt?" "Is it broken?" or (trust me on this one) "Will I need to get stitches?" Just tell her the truth. Even if the truth is, "Honey, I really don't know." She takes her need for a straight answer to the extreme, I guess. On the day after Christmas, we learned, for instance, that, when she has just sledded under a parked truck and come out with a gash in her forehead that is bleeding profusely, she doesn't want to be told, "It's okay." In her own words, "It is NOT okay!" I mean, that's pretty obvious, right? She's hurt, she's bleeding, she's not stupid...Hurt and bleeding really is not especially "okay."
I wasn't there when the accident occurred, but hearing of her reaction to the platitudes uttered by those at the scene got me to thinking about the things we say to children. I think, maybe, in a way, we are trying to reassure ourselves that it will be okay, to stay calm and focussed. What are we all taught? To stay calm in crisis situations. We don't want to panic, right?
But, then again...aren't some situations worthy of panic? Kaia thinks so. In fact, she's likely to get a little irritated with you if you aren't at least moderately panicked in a serious situation. I can appreciate this. I mean, the kid wants to know you are concerned for her, after all. Then again, we adults have to keep our wits about us. So...panic, but don't lose focus. Good luck with that. Shane is my hero (and probably hers, too). I think he managed to react with enough alarm to satisfy her, but not enough to lose control of the situation. How'd you do that, honey?
The nurse and doctor at the emergency room in Missoula, Montana also seem to have achieved a good balance. I've never really understood why nurses with shots tell children, "This won't hurt a bit." It's a bold-faced lie. I mean, really?? When was the last time you stuck a needle in your arm and it didn't hurt? It hurts, damnit, and being told it doesn't just adds to the real, actual pain the bitter sting of betrayal. No wonder kids don't like going to the doctor ~ people lie to them there! So, when my kids ask, "Will it hurt?" I say, "Yeah, it probably will hurt for a moment, but then it will feel better (or make you well, or...whatever it will do)." Drives me CRAZY when the doctors and nurses tell them it won't hurt.
So, a big shout-out to Dr. Heather Jones for her honesty. Yes, she told Kaia, it would hurt when her forehead was numbed. Yes, she would probably feel some tugging and pulling, and she might even be able to feel the stitches going in, but it shouldn't hurt a lot, because, by then, it should be numb. And, it wouldn't hurt for a long time ~ it would be over quickly.
It went down just like Dr. Jones said it would. Cleaning and numbing hurt. It hurt a lot. Kaia put on her headphones and listened to "Hit Me with Your Best Shot" over and over on her new pink iPod while they prepped her. Purple Hippo was clutched in her tiny hand, which I couldn't even hold because it was wrapped securely to her side with a warm blanket.
She looked so small on the hospital gurney that usually seems so ridiculously narrow under an adult patient. She asked (again) why she had to get stitches when so many people had told her she wouldn't. We told her again that the doctor had explained that glue wouldn't keep the wound shut, because of where it was located, that stitches really were the best choice. She was pretty mad at the people who told her that she wouldn't need stitches, and, while I understand that they all meant well, and that they had every reason to believe what they said was true (really, who gets old-fashioned stitches these days?) I am proud to say I wasn't one of them, and I think that helped. When I reminded her that I had told her, honestly, that, yes, she might need stitches, she wasn't especially happy about it, but I think it helped her wrap her head around the idea that, "Okay, we knew this might happen."
I'm not going to lie. It was not easy. Having her music helped. Having Mama and Daddy at her side and a big sister in the room (but not too close) helped. But it hurt. Not a lot (because it had been numbed), and not for long, but...well, the doctor was sewing up her head, for crying out loud. Of course it hurt. Squeamish as I am about this sort of thing, I made myself watch, because I wanted to be sure the doctor did a good job. It was really, really hard ~ especially when, during the final stitch, she started to cry out, "Ow! ow-ow-ow-ow-ow!!"
And then, it was over.
"Did you do it yet? Did you do it??" she asked. Yes. It was done.
No big, ugly blue bandage (one of her big worries, since her friend had a big, ugly blue bandage when he had stitches). Just a little star-covered band-aid. If you didn't know there were stitches under there, you'd think it was just a little scrape. And, hopefully, no big, ugly scar in the longrun (there will, most likely, be a small one).
She has since (I think) forgiven the people who assured her she would not need stitches. I think a Butterfinger and her favourite dinner of Penne w/ Cream and broccoli may have helped a little. And time. Time really does heal most wounds, after all.
Now, when asked, she says the experience was, "Exciting. Not all GOOD exciting, but...exciting."
She sure has one heck of a "What I Did Over Winter Vacation" story to tell her friends. And, unlike the rest of us, she doesn't have to make up an exciting story to go along with her scar ~ her real story is exciting enough. She rode her sled under a truck ~ like Indiana Jones ~ and, according to the sister who saw the whole thing, would have come out completely unscathed, if only she hadn't hit a bump under there. We applaud her quick wit in ducking as low as possible when she realized that she could not steer away from the truck or "bail" in time to avoid hitting it (let's not even consider how much worse it could have been). We admire her courage in the emergency room, her willingness to jump right back in to the fray (she was planning her next sledding adventure on the way to the hospital), her honesty and her resilience. Go, Kaia. You're a heck of a kid.
