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Alright, we got lucky that time (Marge)

That's exactly how I was feeling as I left the A&E department of our local hospital at 10pm last night - over 5 hours after arrival.

The Pre-Story

Back in 1997, a child at my school tripped and fell as he excitedly ran down a corridor. An occurrence which happens every day, in every school across the globe. Unfortunately for this child though, his head hit a low-lying radiator. The brain surgery followed, along with another 18 brain operations in the following years. He was given 10 months to live and I probably shouldn't have been able to celebrate the Millennium fireworks with him in London almost 24 years ago - an evening which ended with him (and therefore us) in A&E. (He's still going strong.)

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A head injury can be as mild as a bump, bruise (contusion), or cut on the head. Or it can be a concussion, a deep cut or open wound, broken skull bones, internal bleeding, or damage to the brain. Head injuries are one of the most common causes of disability and death in children. Source

The Story

For a couple of weeks now, I've been thinking that my eldest child is the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz 👉

If you ask him something, or tell him something, he won't know or he's forgotten immediately.

Yesterday morning, whilst in the garden I asked him to get me something... a knee cushion with flowers on it, propped up against a cupboard in the garage. 5 minutes later, he returns with a small pot that I'm growing a new Strawberry plant in. Seemingly oblivious to the original request. When queried about said original request, he apologised and disappeared again, this time returning with a small brush. I questioned myself, wondering if the cushion wasn't there but alas... it was. Once again, he was living on his own planet.

Of course, I'll be told "he's only 5" so it's no surprise that he doesn't listen. I actually wonder if anything that's said sinks into his little mind and despite what happened yesterday afternoon, he needed reminding, for the umpteenth time not to push or grab his younger brother.

Just Tell Me What Happened!!

The little gorillas were "playing" in the Living Room. Taking it in turns to sit on the sofa's foot stool and (slowly) push each other around the room. Harmless enough but they both wanted to be the ones being pushed. With the youngest on the foot stool, the-scarecrow starts to push him off.

My requests to behave going unheeded until the-baby leans back in resistance to another push, for the push to yield and baby fly backwards off the foot stool... his landing "cushioned" by the corner of a wooden activity cube 👉

I instantly panic... it was one hell of a whack but the-baby's conscious and starts crying. My fury at the-scarecrow almost uncontrollable but baby's conscious, that's good.

And then I see blood on the carpet... that wasn't there before. Blood on my arms. Fuck. I don't know what to do. the-mrs-gorilla - a qualified doctor is at work... she was on-call so I phone her, panicked with an urgent request to come home. I nestle with the-baby, blood now on my T-shirt and shorts and compose myself to see the wound. I lean him away from me as he stops crying, looks at me with a strained smile and says "I'm happy now". I look at the back of his head and see what appears to be a 3 inch gash, a couple of millimetres wide.

Do I phone an ambulance? No. The last time I did that, they took over 2 hours and I ended up getting myself to A&E. the-mrs-gorilla will be home in about 30 minutes. That's too long. I'm driving to the hospital.

Phone the-mrs-gorilla... I'll meet you there. Scarecrow in the car. Baby in the car with a Teet-Owl (the UK's most common Owl) on the back of his head and a 15 minute drive, blurred by the streaming tears.

How can this happen? It's my job to look after them. I should've seen the danger. I should've stopped them sooner. But I didn't. And now we're on our way to hospital.

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We arrive... I double park and offload the-baby to the-mrs-gorilla for assessment. I'm a mess and go to park the car properly.

After calmly assessing the wound, the 3 inch gash I saw was simply where the stream of blood had attached to his hair... once moved, it was no bigger than a peanut. We were here though, better safe than sorry and maybe a few hours in hospital would do the-scarecrow good. Maybe he'd grow a brain.

the-mrs-gorilla left me to it after a couple of hours wait... my insistence that the-scarecrow still didn't understand not registering with the-mrs-gorilla who thought that he did.

Today

And then on to today... I can't shift the feeling of sadness and guilt. The "what if" becoming all-consuming... I've seen it before... The teenager in 1997 going to bed seemingly ok, only for the next time he wakes up to be post-surgery.

Then fairly early morning, the-mrs-gorilla understood. I hear her screaming at the-scarecrow... the lesson not learnt as he began pushing the-baby once again... the wound not even close to being healed from the day before. I tearfully sit the-scarecrow down... calmly explain how lucky we were yesterday... how things could have ended so differently... how A&E was a lucky escape... did it sink in? Did it start to sink in? Only time will tell.

Alright, we got lucky that time.

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