I live in fear of the fact that I will most definitely have to take Oscar to the emergency room at some point in his life. Possibly for an illness but most likely for some kind of gaping wound.
To be clear, I'm not afraid of blood, or stitches, or doctors. I AM afraid of hospitals, but mostly because I think of them as places people go to die. I know others have different associations, but I do not, so the idea of bringing my sick or injured child there is scary to me.
Honestly, just the idea of Oscar bleeding or in need of emergency medical services is scary to me. I worry I won't be able to keep it together, although I have a good track record, as I'll relay in a moment. But, my baby, bleeding? Oh, god, the horror.
Why am I so certain he'll end up in the ER with a gaping wound? There is the fact that he's some kind of kamikaze child, climbing on and diving off of things, tearing around without a care for what crawls over top of or hits with his head. But mostly, it's history:
1979: Nelson is taken to the ER after swallowing a quarter.
1983: My mom rushes me to the ER with a blazing fever and ear infection so sever it damages my hearing for life
1986: My Auntie Sharon rushes me to the ER after I shred my left arm by putting it through her storm door. Miraculously, no stitches.
1988: My mom and neighbor rush me to the ER after the neighbor's son pushes me off a swing and onto the concrete, cracking my head open, resulting in four stitches.
1989: Nelson is taken to the ER for 10 stitches after BEING HIT BY A CAR while riding his bike.
1990: While babysitting my brother, he puts him arm through a panel of glass in our French Doors, resulting in 28 stitches. This wound was so deep, it was literally gaping. I thought he'd lost a chunk of flesh.
1992: My brother falls while riding his bike and the chain spokes get lodged in his calf. He promptly rips them out. My mom calls me home from the neighbor's "to look at your brother's leg," (my mom does not do so well around blood.) I look and see four deep wounds with FAT spilling out of them. PJ says, "Mom said I just need a band aid." On my very calm recommendation, he's taken to the ER and gets somewhere in the neighborhood of 80 stitches and no band aids.
Also, sometime in the early 80s, my cousin Chuck put his arm through a window resulting in like 120-something stitches.
So, as you can see, chances are very good that Oscar will have at least two trips to the ER, and one will most likely involve him putting his arm through a window.
This scares the crap out of me, but the thing that scares me most is my own reaction. Will I be able to keep my cool? I was NOT cool when I was the one injured. I was a crying, freak-out mess. But, when my brother was injured, I was very calm and collected both times.
I hope I don't panic. God, don't let me panic. Because he WILL get hurt and I WILL have to handle it. Crap.