Police and Paramedics

Last night, a few girlfriends and I got together for our first book club meeting. As we sat at a local pizzeria, munching on salads and musing over our selected reading, ("The Pact," by Jodi Picoult), I got a call from Tim. "We had a little accident here," he said nervously. My heart sank as I plugged my ear with my finger to muffle the restaurant noise and ask, "What happened?" Tim went on to explain that Ezra had wanted to be pushed very high on the swing at the local playground. After Tim gave him a big push, Ezra fell off and landed hard backwards. As Tim picked him up, his nose began to gush with blood. Tim explained that he wasn't able to make it stop, so he walked the boys across the street to the police station and asked if they had a first aid kit. When the police officer saw that even the gauze he provided wasn't helping it to stop, he called the paramedics. After only a minute, the EMTs showed up with a fire truck and ambulance. Ezra sat on Tim's lap, as they examined his head, neck, back, and tracked his vision. Fortunately, everything appeared fine. When Ez's nose finally stopped bleeding, the medics said it was up to Tim if he wanted to take him home (and watch for signs of fatigue/concussion) or to take him to the ER. Tim decided to take him home, and that is when he called me. Both Ezra and Tim sounded all shook up, and Ezra reallly wanted me home for a hug. Tim put Ezra on the phone, and when I asked Ezra what happened, he just said, "Mommy, I fell and my nose got bloody and...," his little voice broke into a scared cry. I told him not to worry and that I was on my way home. This was unlike Ezra who usually shakes off boo boos pretty easily. My heart ached as I quickly packed up my uneaten dinner, excused myself from our little meeting, and headed home. I think I prayed the whole drive.

When I walked in, I gave Ezra a big hug, and was relieved to see that he seemed much better. He told me what happened and showed me his shiny badge sticker from the police officer. But poor Tim, who had been holding it together and staying calm for the boys, looked pale. As he held up the bloody laundry as evidence of the drama, he said he felt terrible and blamed himself for the fall. I reassured him it was just an accident, and that I was grateful for the action he took. We let the boys stay up past bedtime for ice cream and a video, so that we could watch Ezra longer to make sure he didn't appear lethargic in any way. When all seemed fine, the boys and I sat together to read a story before bed. Before we began to read, we prayed and thanked God for watching over Ezra and keeping him safe. Times like this make you hug your kids a little tighter, and a little longer.