In stitches

You'd think that since I'm a seamstress, seeing my 7 year old son's knee being stitched together after a bad fall wouldn't faze me. I thought I had a tough constitution when it came to these kinds of things... In high school biology the other girls in my lab group wouldn't do any disecting of the critters. They left all the gorey cutting and removing of organs to me. I found it completely fascinating and wondered on occasion if I had what it takes to be a nurse or doctor or even a veterinarian... So, when Dr. Bala started to poke around in K's knee to determine if it was numb enough to be sutured (it wasn't, by the way and required more anesthetic) ewwww, I started to feel a little queezy. I watched him sew and admired his technique, but as soon as he tied off the fourth and last stitch and snipped the blue thread, I felt the room swooshing. I nearly fainted, which is highly unusual for me.

On top of all that drama, I couldn't find the insurance card, forgot my cell phone, forgot my wallet, forgot my checkbook... I did have my purse with me, which was full of useless junk. I happened to take out my wallet at home to check for the insurance card and forgot to put it back in. My phone had been charging but was finished, and my checkbook usually resides in my bag, but for some reason it had taken a brief vacation. Several years ago, all this unpreparedness might have sent me into a mild panic attack, but I guess I've learned somewhere along the line that it isn't the end of the world when you forget those important things, it's just a complete nuisance.

K was a soldier through it all (after the initial high-pitched screams resulting from his painful fall and the sight of his own blood). I think he enjoyed (and is still enjoying) all the special attention.