Our oldest and only male grandson was bitten by a dog last
Saturday and when I say bitten I mean attacked.
I know the phrase”attacked by a dog” sounds pretty harsh but if it is
your son, daughter or grandson that’s been attacked, and then it’s dead on accurate.
Apparently said grandson, age six, was running the
neighborhood with his posse when they went into of his pal’s back yard and
startled the mutt, the mutt who had never bitten anyone, and mutt being the
breed. The dog grabbed the arm and then
moved to the face. The first our son
Matt knew of the attack was when the neighbor came running down the alley with
a bloody, crying boy child.
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| Grandson chilling giving the thumbs up before the repair work. |
The owner of the offending dog and my kids have handled all
of this like the responsible adults and neighbors they are, they are all to be
commended to this point. The dog wasn’t
a dangerous breed running loose on the street, the dog wasn’t a bitter, it was,
it was a terrible accident.
Grandson went to the emergency room which, thanks or no
thanks to Marty’s numerous trips, our family understands. We know how to do the ER. He was examined, cleaned up and dismissed
with orders to report back later in the week to have the wounds closed
surgically. They didn’t do the suturing
immediately in deference to potential infection.
The grandson had the gluing and stitching done
yesterday. He came through like the
tough little kid he is and looks a little bit like he’s been in a fist
fight.
I went to the hospital in Dallas to offer what moral support
I could to grandson and his parents. When
I told Marty I was going she said, in no uncertain terms, “Get him a toy.” She still knows not to go to the hospital
empty handed.
Grandson’s other grandmother and I spent a few hours
together in the pediatric surgical waiting room. While being in a surgical waiting room,
particularly a pediatric surgical waiting room is a colossal and frightening drag
I couldn’t shake the feeling that I bet our reason for surgery was a lot better
than some of those parents.
Sick kids, dangerously sick kids, kids with heart problems
or long problems or any serious problems are the absolute worst. Matt and Erin both had hospital experiences
and they simply suck for kids and parents.
I remember as they wheeled Matt off to surgery on two
different occasions. I felt completely
powerless, out of control, scared, angry and scared some more. It is impossibly hard to believe you are
making the decision to send your loved one, your totally vulnerable child, into
an operating room to be anesthetized, sutured, patched, bandaged, and maybe saved
by strangers.
Situations like this always drive home how much I, how much
my whole family really misses having the large and in charge Marty. The large and in charge part could be a bit
over powering at times but I really miss her intellect, her problem solving,
her knowledge of the medical process, her questions, her answers and her
passion.
I miss it, so do our kids, and so do our grand-kids whether
they know it or not.
I can state unequivocally, I missed it when it was her in
the hospital and I was the one in charge.
But, in a sense Marty was there.
She taught me, she taught her kids how to do what needs to
be done. Marty’s influence was with Erin
when she called me and told me I needed get myself to Dallas, Marty’s
experience was there when Matt and Sarah drove grandson to the ER, and Marty
was with them when they talked to the nurse and the doctor until they had a
thorough understanding of the care and treatment of the post surgical grand-kid.
Marty, through her life, through her illness, taught us how
to do the crises in our lives. She
modeled the caring, compassionate, in-charge behaviors for our children enough
that maybe, just maybe her presences was felt through the whole incident from
bite to stitch.
Marty didn’t get to drive to Dallas the Saturday the attack occurred,
believe me when I say, nothing would have held back the old Marty. Marty didn’t get to actually sit in the
hospital while a six year old baby was being put back together. Maybe it doesn’t matter that she wasn’t in
the room; maybe the most important things, her influence and her guidance and
her confidence were there through her family.
I can’t tell you how good that makes me feel.
Oh….and #2 granddaughter’s cat died….Marty would have been
all over that too.
