Mar 19 2007
Ben’s Big Toe
(notice and name for points Ben’s toys near the wall)
I’ve always heard people warn against dramatizing every little boo-boo, but one can go too far the other direction. The child needs to have reassurance that the parents are there in times of crisis, but also be given room to develop coping strategies.
Frankly, I’m offended anyone might deign to suggest that I would dramatize Ben’s boo-boo. Read on for more of the shocking truth and additional pics!!!!
We’re not parents who just tell the kid “be tough,” or “boys don’t cry.” Besides the classic song by The Cure, I hate when I hear the latter. We acknowledge that there’s been a bump or a scrape, attend to it if it needs it, give the requisite kiss-to-make-it-better, and then go about our business. If we didn’t see what happened, then of course we ask that, too.
Friday Ben suffered his first injury that skirted that entire debate and sent us straight to medical professionals.
He was out with his mommy and his grammy, headed to Old Navy. He grabbed the large metal and glass door to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. Before he got his foot out of the way, both the loving ladies accompanying him grabbed and pulled on the door.
Mommy and Grammy heard a high-pitched wail and, with powers of deduction only two seasoned mothers could muster, realized that it was coming from Ben.
They looked down and saw blood coming from his right big toe (index toe?). Coincidentally, that is the little piggie who went to market, and they were at the store. Its neighbor no doubt was extolling the virtues of staying home.
One quick drive back to Grammy’s house later, they inspected the site. Shannon said that the toenail was hanging on by one corner. They cleaned the wound, pushed the nail back down, and cleaned it some more. After applying a few dabs of Neosporin they capped it off with a couple of Band-Aids.
Ben was not happy about his toe, but he said he wanted to go back to the store. This should have been our first sign that either we’ve been doing something right, or Ben has figured out on his own that life doesn’t stop for a mangled toe. I’m sure I’ve read that exact sentiment somewhere, but I’ve botched the wording. Perhaps also driving him were his happy memories of my racing him around in the cart while Mommy shopped, the last time the three of us went to Old Navy.
Or the other kids he met while they all waited on their respective mommies to try on clothes.
They went back and Ben didn’t complain a bit as they toted him around the store.
The next day Ben was walking on both feet — even trying to run. At first it was just a clumsy limp on the outside of his foot to avoid hurting the big toe, but soon he dropped that for a more carefully choreographed, but gracefully executed, heel pivot.
When we removed the Band-Aids that afternoon, I got my first look at it. I tried not to let Ben see me wince. There was a blue-black spot under the left top corner of the nail, and the whole nail bed looked pale, with no color differentiation to form that cute little half-moon shape at the base.
I haven’t observed my boy’s toenails closely, but I thought the lower left corner looked not quite right. Like it had been pulled out and then allowed to overlap the skin. Blood bordered the top of the nail.
(Click here for a closeup photo of the toe. Don’t click it if you don’t want to see it. Got that?)
“I think we need to take him to the doctor. I’m worried this will get infected.” I said.
“You think so?” Shannon asked. “Well, let me call S.”
S, a nurse in her family who’s been in the business for decades, said that we definitely should take him in, and that they probably would remove the toenail. I winced internally for Ben. Shannon started tearing up thinking of her little boy going through something like that. Shots of Lidocaine in his tiny toe might result in more pain than he’d felt so far.
The saddest part of the first chapter of this saga is that we considered waiting until Monday, just so he wouldn’t miss his Saturday afternoon nap. That was a fleeting thought, however, so off we went to the same after-hours clinic Shannon reported to the day he spiked a 105-degree fever.
In the reception area, Ben played happily near a small, wall-mounted Dali-esque funhouse mirror while I busily snapped photos with Shannon’s camera. Have I mentioned that her point-and-shoot digital camera was as much a gift for me as it was for her? Until I start carrying a purse, I’ll envy her the convenience.
Once in the exam room, I immediately grabbed the DishNetwork remote and flipped away from SpongeBob Squarepants. No offense to his big fans, but it’s not something I want my preschooler watching.
This is where it turned a bit strange.
The doctor was an attractive young woman of either Pakistani or Indian descent (sorry, my rural upbringing didn’t prepare me to make the distinction). So far, so good. She donned a pair of green, latex-free gloves and carefully removed the freshly applied Band-Aids.
Ben never flinched once — mostly because his eyes were glued to Ubzi Wubbzi or some such animated fare. Shannon’s eyes were brimming with tears. I gently rubbed her back.
“Oh, my goodness,” the doctor said.
“That’s kind of what I thought,” I said.
The doctor sat there in silence looking at Ben’s toe for at least a couple minutes. She tilted her head this way and that, but never tugged or prodded Ben’s toe. Her slow, deliberate examination made it obvious she was an expert just taking it all in.
“In cases like this, plastic surgery can restore the nail, but we won’t know until we see if there’s been any scratching of the underbed.”
Plastic surgery? What the?
“You said it’s been more than 24 hours, and when they reattach they usually say 24 hours is the limit.”
Shannon started to crumble under the guilt she heaped on herself. I could see her face wondering, “Why didn’t I bring him in right when it happened?”
Plastic surgery? Perplexed, I managed to reach out and touch her shoulder.
“But, don’t worry. I’m going to call a friend of mine who’s worked the ER for years. Okay? I’ll be right back.” She left and shut the door.
Ben stared at the TV.
Shannon walked over to me, wiping tears from her face. “What does she mean ‘plastic surgery’?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ve got to leave the room so he won’t see me and get scared,” she said.
“Don’t feel bad. I didn’t even see it when it happened. I probably would have done the same thing.”
Shannon closed the door behind her. I looked back at Ben, who still was transfixed on the LCD TV hanging from the wall.
“Hey, little man, are you okay?” I asked.
No answer. Guess so. I joined him in the blank stare.
The door opened. The doctor came in, followed by Shannon.
“Okay, I just talked to my friend. He reminded me that what I was talking about was for a fingernail. You want to try to reattach it for aesthetic reasons. With a toenail, it’s different.”
I had mixed feelings at this point. I was glad she had consulted someone with more expertise, but wished she would have second-guessed herself a little sooner.
The doctor got between Ben and the TV and told Ben he was her best patient all day. With a glance for our approval, she asked, “Would you like a green popsicle?”
“Yes,” he replied.
The nurses came in and cleaned the injury site with a clear solution, then inserted a ringed metal tube into a piece of tube gauze and slid it over his toe. With what I suspected was sleight of hand, they ended up with a neatly bound white package trimmed in green self-adhering tape.
They and the doctor commented again what a trooper Ben was. He never once said, “ouch” or “don’t touch that, you daughter of Satan.”
On his way out, he got to pick a sticker. I took a look at the offerings.
“Hey, look, Ben, Superman. Oh, and here’s one with Lightning McQueen,” I said as I bent down to pick him up.
My boy, rough customer that he is, deliberately reached in and pulled out a sticker featuring Disney’s Little Mermaid. Some may recall that on his last trip there, he picked out a Strawberry Shortcake dressed as a princess.
Hey, he has an eye for the ladies. What can I say?
Here’s one for some sympathy love. Note the left big toe for foreground to provide depth. Can my lady compose a shot, or what?
Ouch…that looked pretty brutal.
Plastic surgery? I was immediately thinking that her husband must be a plastic surgeon and they had a racket going. :-)
That sucker will probably turn a rainbow of colors, slough off, and he’ll have a brand new toenail by about Thanksgiving time. Of course kids grow so fast that it may be even sooner than that.
You have to admit that if we had a toe ijury like that when we were kids, dad would have poured some methiolate and/or alcohol on there, and we would have been out there riding motorcycles again that day. Kids are tough man…you can’t get between kids and playing. They’ll play when they have 101 degree fevers.
I get a sore throat and sniffles, and I want to sleep, eat soup, and act like a wuss. :-)
I can just see it now. Ben pulls the Little Mermaid sticker our the basket, holds it up, and brightly says, “Look Daddy, I got a ho for my toe. ” :)
Please kindly edit and replace ‘our’ with ‘out of.’ Thanks.
Ok, did this begin, because Ben was wearing sandals? (I hate the darned things myself)
I’m glad he’s alright though… one HATES to see their kids in any kinds of pain.
So will he lose the nail?
For the record, I’m a big fan of Spongebob Squarepants. I watched the movie and I respect The Hoff for appearing in it.
Ben’s apparent stoicism makes him look like the toughest one of you guys throughout the whole ordeal. After his initial squeal of pain he just went about his business of being a boy. I forget when, exactly, the feeling of immortality in childhood begins to chafe and wear off, but I think it’s somewhere in the teens, so Ben has a long way to go.
Even in light of what happened here, I’m still really looking forward to wearing my sandals, despite Dave’s apparent misgivings. Tomorrow’s the first day of spring, which makes me think of sandals even more these days.
Our Declan scraped his big toe (a barely-discernable, life-threatening gash) on one of the living room speaker bases, and he proudly sported a Spongebob band-aid wrapped around the wounded digit for a couple days. Ben’s looks way cooler!
As gross (in a neat way) as that toe-zoom picture was, I couldn’t help thinking to myself: you know, when he took this, Mark was thinking about blogging this whole affair and his journalistic integrity HAD to get all the evidence.
P.S. — that’s the Sheriff and Doc Hudson near the wall in the first pic. Like there’s any way I could NOT know that!
Poor guy. But I’m very impressed with his fortitude. Or, better stated in geekese…he seems to have a very high Constitution score.
I remember once as a kid I’m pretty sure I broke my little toe…you know…the one that went, “wee wee wee,” all the way home. I wanted to go get it looked at but my Dad would have none of it.
“What would the doctor do?” he asked.
“I dunno…put a cast on it.”
“Oh…so it’ll heal straight? I don’t know…I think you’ll just have to make your peace with the fact that you’ll never be able to write with your feet.”
Charles - Yeah, I was thinking, “This is what we get for taking him to a place near ritzy neighborhoods.”
We definitely would have been back out there as soon as humanly possible.
Alvis - :-)
Gave me a chuckle.
I’ll fix that other when I have a chance.
Dave - You’d have a fight on your hands if you tried to take away our sandals. Some folks even hike rugged trails in sandals, and none of this is a generational thing. Goes for all ages.
The doc says he’ll lose the nail.
Simon - I’ve never watched Spongebob enough to form an opinion. I’d probably laugh. I just figure, from what little I’ve seen, it seems like a good one to keep Ben away from for a while.
Go sandals!
Ben digs his Band-Aids, too, and he just gets the plain tan versions.
Oddly, Shannon was the instigator for most of the pictures contained herein.
You win the toy ID contest! Now go to Tim Horton’s and reward yourself.
Moksha - It blows my mind that it doesn’t seem to hurt, or that he ignores it.
Great one about your little toe. I was lucky enough never to break a bone in my childhood. I saved it for when I was a journalist responding to a crash scene (those always make reporters feel great about their jobs), and broke my ankle.
My brother, on the other hand, broke nearly every toe on his feet and other bones, too.
My brother and I spent an afternoon at our dad’s house jumping off the roof of the shed. (FUN!) Brother hurt his foot after a jump and I told him to walk it off, but ended up piggy-backing him into the house. Our mother took him to the hospital three days later and he’d been hobbling around with a broken foot. If you think Shannon felt guilty, you can only imagine how bad our mother felt after that episode.
And now that you mention it, I WILL go to Timmy Ho’s for a little personal reward. They deep in the midst of their annual Roll Up The Rim To Win contest, where I could possibly find a 2007 Toyota Camry Hybrid waiting for me under the rim of the paper cup. Or an iPod. Or a free doughnut. Or the most common prize: Please Play Again.
(Kudos to MG for the Constitution line. Reminds me of my favourite D&D inspirational poster.)
Wow, Simon. I thought Starbucks coffees had gotten outrageously huge. But apparently Horton’s got ‘em beat with coffees so big you can hide a car in them. I can only wonder how long Mark would obcess about such a huge cup…were he to find it hidden in some equally gigantic storm drain.
Oh…and hurray for sandals! And hurray for Sponge Bob! And three cheers for Sponge Bob sandals!!!
Moksha, I like how Patrick the Starfish’s head is shown in such a way that it looks like a horribly deformed big toe.
Mark, don’t let Shannon see that image or she might think that’s how Ben’s toe will look once the bandage comes off!
“…the little piggie who went to market, and they were at the store. Its neighbor no doubt was extolling the virtues of staying home.”
That blew my socks off. Despite the stress of the situation, your brain is in perfect form. I loved it.
Had Ben not been such a trouper, you could have said “And that same little piggie cried ‘@$%&&$’, all the way home.”
Most importantly, glad dear little Ben is ok. That had to hurt like a sumb*tch… You know what would be cute, that is if he had been paying attention, an audio of Ben describing what transpired (medically as opposed to tele-visually) in the Md’s office.
Give him an extra little hug from all of us at breakfast.
Markus…So, did the Dr. tell you that it wouldn’t grow back? If so, that injury must be much worse that it looks in the picture. I’ve smashed toenails and fingernails multiple times over the years, and a replacement nail grows underneath the dying nail, and one day…voila…a new nail.
Oh…and I have definitely broken every toe, and some more than once. They were mostly from playing Nerf basketball, but I got a few at other random places. The only other bone I’ve ever broken was my right pinky. It’s a little crooked, but pain free. I did hurt my knee a few times, and had crutches for that and a few bad ankle sprains…but nothing broken. Amazing.
If that toenail is all that Ben faces, he’ll be ahead of the game.
Oh…and on my first few broken toes, dad would x-ray them at the office on his dental x-ray. Then once I realized that it’s the same treatment whether they’re broken or not (nothing), I didn’t waste my time in the future. The best one was when I was running down the hall barefoot, trying to hide Christmas presents when company was coming, and I caught my pinky toe on the corner trim at the end of the hall. That one was a dislocation and it was broken. It was pointing the wrong direction. That one stung a little.
Simon - Every red-blooded male should have a memory of jumping off something like that. It’s just natural.
Win that Camry!!
Moksha - It’s sad how much attention I pay to storm drains everywhere.
Simon and Moksha - Buy each other a SpongeBob character and get it out of your respective systems.
Linda - Thank you for pointing out that line. If I weren’t a humble man, I’d say I was proud of that one and it feels good that somebody noticed.
Thanks for the well wishes for Ben. He’s doing pretty well. And, he has recounted the incident in detail at least three times — once to the person who comes and gets him from the minivan when Shannon drops him at preschool (twice a week).
Charles - The doctor said it will grow back. Just a matter of time. I’m just worried that the skin will grow up around that lower left corner of nail that came “untucked.”
I laugh every time I hear your broken toe stories. Thanks for that.
The memory of the sound of Dad’s x-ray machine firing just took me right back to the exam chair.