You should have seen the other guy

Actually, there was no other guy. At school today Rachel fell and hit her head on the corner of a cinderblock divider between a path and the sandbox.

We think. No one actually saw it happen, but she had been standing on the cinderblocks one moment, and the next moment she wasn't.

When they called us, they downplayed it, which I am thankful for. Because when we saw it, both Lori and I wanted to cry. But they told us on the phone that we wouldn't need to see a doctor, that she was all calmed down now and that it wasn't that bad. But that they were still consoling a caregiver who hadn't been involved but was torn up when she saw Rachel. They all love her there, but Miss Helen just adores Rachel way more than the other kids. You can tell.

By the time we got there, she was her normal happy self. But with one eye swelled shut and a bloody oozing gash on her eyelid.

We have no reason to disbelieve their story, so please resist any urge to be like the annoying cashier at Boston Market who said that the school was lying to us.

We took her home and as soon as her grandma saw her, she was upset that we weren't already at the urgent care facility having her checked out.

So, it was off to the hospitasortof so they could take a look at her. Fortunately, by then the swelling had decreased quite a bit and she was only left with bruising and roughed up skin above and below the eye and on the chin and a nice bloody wound on her eyelid.

They said that it wasn't an area you wanted to switch, especially on a little tiny child. So they had her sit in Lori's lap while Lori held Rachel's arms under two blankets and I held her head still and they used a saline solution in a syringe attached to an eye cup to wash out the wound. Rachel was really good. She cried like she was unahppy, but she didn't scream bloody murder like I would have done if it were me. Lori reports that she didn't really struggle either, more of just a "I'm not happy."

Afterwards we went to Boston Market where we were convinced that everyone was judging us. Two older ladies were especially observant of our dining experience but near the end of the meal, they asked her age and then said that she seemed really smart for her age and that we must always be teaching her and interacting with her.

After we got home we cleaned the wound again, put on neosporin and a bandaid. The only way we could get the bandaid to stay was if we also would wear bandaids. She's now in bed, laying there talking to herself, but she seems to have passed the trauma pretty quickly.

What a joy and a blessing she is.

(There's nothing wrong with her mouth, she's just using her new cheesy grin for the picture. I'll post one another time of her with the bandaid so you can see how much better she looks now.)