Of jammed fingers and hospitals...

This weekend has been a terrible one.

Sonny boy was feeling down after his Ammamma on his mother's side left some days back, so we decided to see if a visit from Muthasshi on the father's side would cheer him up. So my in-laws- Ma, Pa and Sis have been visiting, as of last week. With my sis-in-law's little son, a Terror who is all of 1 year and 5 months, who delightedly decided to definitely keep Sonny boy company.

"And wherever Mary went, the lamb was sure to go...."
Substitute Sonny boy for Mary and the Terror for the lamb and that was the situation in my house with the two babies. (Madmomma, you are blessed to have such a loving Brat!)

Truly a Terror, my little nephew-in-law effortlessly terrorised his bigger brother.
He would rush lovingly to Sonny boy and give him one Thwack! on his face. A friendly box, a loving bite, an affectionate kick... these were some of the expressions of the deep love he has for his etta. To give due credit to my son, he was remarkably patient the first few hours of terror. But that was more because he was not used to such treatment. Not someone to take things lying down for long, before long, the two had to be kept away from each other. So much for brotherly bonding and keeping company!

Now in addition to wondering whether Sonny boy was eating and sleeping properly while I was away at office, I only needed to wonder if the two were at each others' throats yet!

But on Sat evening, the poor, poor little Terror got his wee little finger jammed in the door. (no contribution of Sonny boy, who was sleeping soundly when the incident took place) And OH! the sight of that poor mangled little ring finger on the left hand! The little one went beserk with pain. And he kept flailing that hand everywhere, out of people's reach and dropping blood all over the place. And Sonny boy woke up crying when he heard the Terror screaming, and then proceeded to scream himself when he saw all that blood and the faces of the adults- it was a horrendous evening!

Finally we rushed him to Manipal Hospital. As an aside here, a dying person could be just minutes away from the hospital and still die because of the traffic jam on Airport Road.
Here he was subjected to more of the worst kind of pain as the plastic surgeon probed the deep cut to see if that piece sticking out was his nail or skin or bone. My heart went out to the poor little scrap. Finally after a totally traumatising ordeal, the doc and nurse managed to bandage his hand up on the second attempt, because, inspite of his mother and aunt and doctor holding him and the arm down, he still managed to get that finger free and shake off the bandage.
But then- within minutes of his finger being securely bandaged up, he was smiling happily! Children! All of us in Pediatric Emergency laughed to see that smile- toothy and totally appealing...

We were told to come on Mon morn for the suturing. Its another story that we had to go back home, get him to sleep and then come back to the hospital again so that we could get his finger Xrayed. For he absolutely refused to be held down again for the Xrays, which had to be taken in addition to the blood test. There was no fracture, thankfully.

After all that, Sonny boy was little wary of how to carry hostilities further with an injured opponent. So we thought there'd be a small respite, especially since we adults too were paranoid about him hurting his finger again. But we hadn't accounted for the little Terror. Who was back in form again. Who swatted Sonny boy one across his face again, right with his bandaged finger.
"All the better to hit you with, my dear...!"