Week From Hell

Well it's Sunday, and Sunday is the end of the week as far as I am concerned. This week has sucked. Nah, sucked doesn't really work for me. It was just junk.

Monday was normal. Tuesday was fishing day. I went, with Casey, to Trip lake or pond or whatever. No fish pond more like it. Then, as usual, my phone rang at a few minutes past 8pm. But it wasn't my wife letting me know that she was on her way home and asking if I were close to coming home. It was my father in law. Tyler was crying in the background, and Rae was yelling "Just tell him to meet me at the hospital."

Tyler had been bitten by a dog. If you know Rae then you know that she can make things sound worse than they are. But this time was different, she was calm. "The ambulance is here and we have to wait for someone else to come to ride in the back with us. Just go to the hospital, we'll meet you there." I asked how bad it was. "It's fucking bad, hurry up."

When I got to Maine Medical Center, I was shown to some sort of xray room or something. I wondered for about half a second why they weren't in the waiting room. Then I opened the door............

My little man was wounded. Not hurt, wounded. He was sitting all tuff with blood all over his tiny chest. Not a tear in sight. I can't be sure that I was breathing, but I didn't black out so I must have been getting oxygen somehow. When the shock of seeing my little boy in that condition dulled, I asked him if he had a boo boo. "yes" *pointing to his head* I gave him a kiss on his head.

When I went to the bathroom, I heard the doctors say something about calling in the plastic surgeon, I gave them my opinion. "Yeah, hurry up and get him here."

I don't know how long it was, it seemed like hours, but it seemed like minutes at the same time. The next thing I know, Dr. Vaughan(sp?) was in and talking about surgery and going under anesthesia and problems / concerns. I signed a bunch of stuff and my little guy was rolled into the OR waiting room. He was finally given some meds around 10:30. A bunch of more questions and more signing, and he was rolled off with Rae to have emergency plastic surgery on his little face.

The last place Rae or I would have ever guessed we would be is Barbra Bush Children's Hospital. But that's where we were. What the fuck just happened? How did we get here?

I had accepted what happened almost immediately. The hard part of all of this is that my little man has been in so much pain. Wednesday he had some swelling, and a bit of a black eye. Thursday he looked like he had gone 12 championship rounds with Mike Tyson, but he gave us a smile. Friday he told me that bees were in his head. I can only assume that he had a headache. Saturday I asked if he was feeling ok. "no, owie" *pointing to his left cheek* And today, Sunday, he has been touching his cheek and asking for kisses. He touches his not hurt cheek then his stitched up one then the ok one again. He knows.

The first time he walked by a mirror, he froze and just looked. It was when his left eye was almost completely swollen shut. He did his Family Guy "SSSSSSSssss, aaaaahhhhhhh. Ssssssss oooooowwwwwwwwww......... ssss aaahhhhhh. All while pointing at his bandages.

Tyler is going to be ok. The surgeon said that he was happy with how the surgery went. The important muscles, nerves, salivary ducts, eye, and tendons seemed to be ok. He is improving in mood everyday, and will no doubt be back to his old self after this ordeal faster than his mother or I will.

Now my pet peeves of the whole situation.

1. Don't assume that you have ever been hurt as badly. Falling off your bike when you were 12 wasn't as bad.
2. Don't ask what type of dog it was. I guarantee you that neither Rae nor I would throw Ty into a caged ring with a rabid pit bull. One of the nurses asked if it was an aggressive dog. I think I snapped at her when I said "Does it matter? No it doesn't."
3. We already know that he is going to have a scar. Your pointing it out won't be news to us, it only makes you an asshole.