I have been to the hospital twice with my children these last two weeks. Last week it was Ella and the discovery of her pneumonia and the fact that her body is fighting both a viral and bacterial infection. Today, Ross was in the E.R. having his face sewn up after having a dresser with a large glass vase fall on his face.
The last time I saw so much blood was when I'd given birth to my children.
The doctor tried his best to keep Ross' attention focused on his travels abroad rather than his face being sewn up like a bloody rag doll. The doctor's favourite place was Australia, and his favourite adventure was watching the crocodiles being fed chicken for lunch. The entire chicken.Feathers and all. I forgot to ask if the chicken was dead or alive. Apparently the doctor found the noise to be less than appetizing but he seemed very impressed with the whole experience. Somehow, watching my sweet little six year old's face being sewn up with a steel-like thread, and the auditory description of a crocodile feasting on a chicken seemed to be too much on many different levels.
I knew this was all for Ross' benefit, but my hunch is that Ross wasn't benefiting from this at all.
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