As soon as I saw it, I knew he'd need stitches. I was prepared for a night of crying, pleading, screaming, fighting. What actually happened, is still beyond me. How does one little boy hold so much bravery? I can only describe it as God's calming grace.
He stopped crying within 2 minutes of falling and sat there nervously holding a paper towel to his wound as we got everything together before heading out. He was slightly upset that he had to go to the hospital, but still didn't cry. In the car, we talked about what might possibly happen once we got there and that he might need stitches.
Once we got inside, they took his vitals and asked him if he was in pain. He said no. Being skeptical, they told me that if he said he was in pain later, they could give him an icepack. While waiting for the doctor, he watched tv and was already back to his happy little self.
When the doctor came in to see him, I expected him to be a little reserved. But, he was talkative and told the doctor the story, followed all of the directions and never stopped smiling. Who smiles when they know the doctor might hurt them? haha.
When they told him they were going to put Lidocaine on his chin, they explained that it would sting but he had to leave it one. They put it on the laceration and the doctor and I both stared at him just waiting for the pain to kick and for that first cry or scream. Nothing. Not even a grimace. When they came in to do the actual sutures, they had one doctor hold his head, me hold his arms and they draped a cloth over his face to isolate the injured area. He talked and joked with the doctors the entire time.
Afterwards, he told me he was able to feel a little poking that stung a little and that he was just being brave. What a champ.
6 stitches later and we were out the door.
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