The Day of Statue Ants or The Worst Day of My Life

I bolted awake when I heard him wail. I had dozed off while reading on the sofa.

"Mom! Joel's bleeding!" Stephen called. I raced up the stairs to find Joel clutching a white towel to his left hand. Spots and streaks of blood had started to soak into it. I kept asking him to let me see but he said it hurt too much. He was crying but his voice was weak and I knew it wasn't good.

"How did you cut it?"

"I don't want ...to...tell you."

"You have to. Was it with a knife?"
"Yes," he whispered through tears. My fear and anger were mixed, but my fear was stronger.

This was my baby.

"What happened?"

"I cut my hand and ran up the stairs.......to the bathroom....for water.....then everything went blue....I fell down. Good thing I didn't ....hit...my...head on the toilet or anything....."

He had nearly fainted trying to give himself first aid!

"Why didn't you call me?"

"Because......I thought you'd be angry."


"That you used a sharp knife?"


"Uh-huh."

Well, the lecture didn't need to come. He had suffered the first round of pain from his disobedience. He would get the lecture on deceit from his daddy later.

I was really afraid seeing the blood oozing into the towel. But I know that sometimes it's not as bad as it looks. So I took a peek. He had sliced a one-inch long gash into that webbed area between the thumb and forefinger. It was open enough to tell me it probably would need stitches. That's what I told him. It's always better to warn kids of what could be a'comin' down the pike.

Sarah and I drove him to get some urgent care. In the van, I questioned Joel to keep him alert and to find out why he'd had a knife. Turns out he wanted to make a craft--what kind he didn't know--and he was cutting a thin plastic cup with a long serrated knife. Mind you, I keep the knives at the back of the counter. He has heard many times not to ever use one till he grows up and learns to be a chef (one of his dreams).

Patient First was busier than I'd ever seen it. Seventy minutes after arriving, Joel was getting lidocaine (sp?) . Lots of it from a needle that seemed more jabbed than guided, honestly, by the doctor. It was incredibly painful. He screamed louder than if he had sliced his hand again. I wish I could've taken the pain for him. I'm pretty tough with needles myself--a veritable pincushion--but I hate to see them stuck into my loved ones.

When the doc checked him five or so minutes later for numbness, Joel gave his typical answers.



"Can you feel this?"

"Kind of."

"Can you feel this?"

"Two percent," he answered.

The doctor looked at me as if to ask, "What'd he say?" I told her "two percent-- means a little bit." She smiled.

When he was sufficiently numb, she rubbed iodine and some other clear antiseptic on his skin. It must've hurt like the dickens. He screamed again, and cried, and Sarah whispered into his ear, "What Jesus went through on the cross was worse than this." I told her, "You don't have to compare. I don't know if that's helpful," but then I felt convicted .When I was having labor pains, the Lord himself reminded me, "For the joy that was set before Him, he endured --" Maybe everyone needs to be reminded when in pain that nothing compares to what the Lord suffered?

When Joel quieted down, I told him the doctor is an artist like he is, and was painting his hand. He wanted to know what color. (Hey, anything to bring commonality.) "Orangey red and clear," I said.

She put four stitches in, nervously. She said she was nervous knowing that he was nervous, which Sarah gathered long before.

Joel checked out the finished product of black sutures in a row and said, "They look like ants. Statue ants."

That was the best description of stitches I'd ever heard.

His hand is now bandaged so that he can't flex the thumb . Had to keep it dry during a bath and I found that wrapping Saran Wrap around the bandage and wrist a bit does a great job. It clings to itself and to skin.

At least 14 times Joel has declared that day "the worst day of my life."

Statue ants. I would love to think it's the worst thing he'll ever endure. And yes, he got the deceit lecture from dad later that night.