Jack fell down and broke his crown

I woke up this morning with a strange pair of feet pressed up against my face. I am, more often than not, awaken laying next to our oldest son who happens to crawl into bed with us sometime in the middle of the night. But, these were not his feet. Sometimes, Rebekah joins us but these were also not hers. No, these feet belonged to Elizabeth. And, man did they stink!


Now, don’t get me wrong Elizabeth did not get up in the middle of the night and come and join us in our room. She actually started there. On purpose. By request. Not her request but by the request of the ER doctor.

Yesterday, as my mom and I were bargain hunting, Elizabeth fell out of the shopping cart. She tumbled from the cart, dropping roughly four feet onto the concrete floor. She landed on her forehead. She understandably cried for a while. Then, after some comfort from Grandma, she resumed her usual behavior and disposition. I thought nothing of it. We went on with our shopping journey. We came home and Elizabeth took her long-awaited nap. She woke up in a great mood and joined her older siblings on the swing set. As I was making dinner, she kept touching her head and indicating that it hurt. I then brushed back her bands to discover not a lump but an indentation.

I remember from Caleb’s encounter with the zoo’s cow that a raised bump indicated normal swelling and to not be concerned. However, I wasn’t quite sure what to think about a thumb-size dent in my toddler’s forehead. In a somewhat panic mode, I called our local Ask-A-Nurse (AKA Mary Carney) who was also perplexed by the situation. After some more phone calls to various doctors for whom I am grateful, we ended up in the ER for a better part of our night.

Elizabeth was an excellent patient. She was her usual charming self. She swallowed the pain medication with no problem. She was very calm and relaxed during her physical examination which included checking for broken bones. (I didn’t even think to do that.) She let the doctor inspect her up until she got to her head. Then the crying began. My sweet little two-year-old fought off anyone and everyone who wanted to get near her skull.

Then, the most unpleasant part of the entire evening was the dreaded CAT scan. They took that same sweet little, now wailing, child and literally strapped her down to a board and wrapped her in a lead jacket. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, they took an ace bandage and secured her head to the other end of the board. Yes, I understand (intellectually) that this is all necessary to get a high-quality reading. Nonetheless, my heart was aching for her. She was petrified. I was anxious. We both wanted to be done.

After a short little stay, we were cleared to go home. She had no bleeding in her brain nor had any broken skull pieces (remember that her skull is not completely fussed together yet). We were given some take home instructions of which include not letting her drive or operate large machinery and waking her every four hours. Hence, why she is in our bed. But that does not explain the stinky feet.