* Trauma-drama

Last night it was time to remove the gauze from Herc's wound and clean it as needed. This turned out to be a horrific ordeal. That Hercules, he has the strength of an ox and the courage of a bunny rabbit.

First, Hercules refused to let me touch the gauze or any of the tape holding it in place. He insisted on doing it himself, which proved to be a painstaking process. He paused often to sit and cry despairingly. I hugged him and coaxed and begged him to let me do it. He finally got down to the last corner of tape, the gauze now completely unhinged, revealing his wound and stitches in all their hideous glory. The sight of this only unnerved him more. He was crying "It doesn't look right! It doesn't look right!!" That's when I hugged him and stealthily reached one hand down and yanked off the last centimeter of tape. That pissed him off but good grief, it was past his bedtime already and I still had to figure out how to clean the thing without putting him in a straight jacket.

I had planned on using a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol to gently (oh so gently) swab the skin around his stitches. But everytime I attempted to do so, Hercules would grab my hands and yank them away. After much begging, pleading, cajoling, and coercing, all my tricks were still failing. Then I realized that he still had to take a shower tonight, surely that would provide a sufficient cleansing of the wound.

Getting Hercules into the shower was no less traumatic, I'm afraid. There was lots more pleading and cajoling, but he wasn't going for it. In his defense, he wasn't being stubborn out of defiance, the poor kid was genuinely scared. I think he had already dealt with all the pain and discomfort he could handle in the past couple of days, and the prospect of facing more of the same had him completely freaked. I also suspect he was overtired, which is never conducive to cooperation in our young Hercules. But, the problem remained - that wound had to be cleaned, if only a little. Not just tonight, but every day for at least the next week or so.

I tried everything I could think of, but Hercules just stood outside the tub, sobbing and squealing. At one point I got so exasperated I tried to pick him up and place him in the tub myself, but dammit, he's too big and too heavy and his legs were all over the place. I set him down and took a few steps back. I needed to calm myself and regroup. I decided it was time for desperate measures. This is the speech I gave him:

"OK, you have 2 options. You can either clean your wound so it will heal and be good as new, or you can leave it alone. If you leave it alone, it will get crusty. Then it will get red and swollen. Then it will ooze puss and goo and it will hurt worse than it ever did before. Then we will have to go back to the hospital and the doctors will have to cut off your leg. So. You can take care of your wound and keep it clean, or you can let it rot until your leg comes off. What do you want to do?"

I know! I know! I'm a wicked mother. I know! But I can live that because IT WORKED. HA!

Once Hercules got into the shower, sobbing and shaking, he quickly realized that he was not going to die. He was not subjected to excruciating pain when the water touched his stitches. He freaked out for a second when some soap suds ran down his leg toward his stitches, but even that didn't hurt, and he was still alive! What a relief!

This morning when it was time to dress his wound again, Hercules objected to anything that involved tape or sticky stuff to hold the gauze in place. Luckily, I found an ace bandage, and I used that to hold the gauze. It worked great and Hercules was happy. Thank god.

Here's a song from Trout Fishing in America that we sang last night to lighten the mood:

Bandaid

And another Trout song, just for fun and because it's Herc's favorite:

Pico de Gallo

1 Comments:

Blogger momma-yaya said...

ahh, those are great songs! Here's to the health and healing of the warrior.

2/22/2006 8:58 PM  

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