Ever since Connor fell and nearly bit through his lower lip, I always just assumed I'd be pretty cool in a crisis, since I handled that one pretty smoothly. I felt confident in my ability to take care of what needed doing, keeping everyone else calm and stable, and getting everything done quickly and safely. Turns out, I was *mostly* right.
On Wednesday, November 22nd at approx 8:15 in the morning, Connor was petting our dog Chuck and Chuck lost his damn mind and attacked. He bit Connor in the head, opening a pretty solid wound over his right eye, then grabbed his left ear, creating a second, scary, bloody wound. My husband pulled the dog off Connor and tossed him across the room before picking Connor up and racing downstairs with him to clean him up and try to assess the damage.
I had been laying in bed when this happened, so I didn't actually see anything, but I will never forget those sounds. I jumped out of bed and grabbed the dog and started yelling (I honestly don't remember what all I said, but it was something along the lines of "What the fuck is wrong with you?!") I dragged him downstairs by the collar and threw him outside, then went to the kitchen to see Connor and help Mike.
There was so much blood. If you've ever cut your head, you know those injuries just bleed and there's not a lot you can do to stop it. Connor was freaking out, understandably, and every time he saw blood on me or Mike, he started screaming even more, thinking we were hurt too. Mike had to take his shirt off in the middle of the kitchen to keep Connor calm-ish. I was holding a towel to Connor's head by the sink while Mike stepped away to calm himself because he was getting nauseous at the sight of it all.
At this point, I hadn't even seen Connor's ear yet, I was just addressing the blood dripping over and into his eye. Mike came back with a clean shirt and shoes and told me he thought we needed to get to the ER asap. I didn't, because the blood was slowing over his eye and I didn't want to freak him out anymore by adding random doctors to the mix.
"Did you see his ear?"
"His ear? No.." I looked and instantly started feeling weak. There was so. much. blood. It was dripping all down his neck and soaking his shirt. How had I not seen that?! "Kylar. We need Kylar. He's still asleep."
Mike ran up to get Kylar and I could feel myself getting faint. I leaned with my head on the counter for a few seconds, still wrapped around/hugging Connor who was sitting on the sink. When Mike came down, he put Kylar on the kitchen floor, and grabbed Connor so I laid down on the cool floor for a second to try and get a handle on myself.
This was not ok. We were not ok. It felt like forever, but in reality, it had only been about 10 minutes from bite to walking out the door.
The drive took forever, and was insanely fast at the same time. We got checked in, a nice woman in the lobby tied my shoes for me, and we were back in a room with a doc and nurse. They numbed it, cleaned it, and sent us home with a referral to a pediatric cosmetic surgeon, some extra gauze, some tape and a prescription for antibiotics. All in all, we were there for an hour and a half. It felt like forever.
Connor was pretty amazing the whole time. He honestly fell asleep in my lap a couple times while waiting on the doctor to come clean it out, then waiting to be discharged. He is a bad ass; there really is no other way to describe him. At one point, he even insisted on taking off the monitors so he could use the bathroom, even though he was wearing a diaper and Mike and I were encouraging him to just pee in the diaper.
It's been a few days now, and I've had a chance to really process everything. I have to be honest, once things were settled and we were heading home from the hospital, knowing Connor would be ok and his vision and hearing would be unaffected, I had to pull over because I was on the verge of a full blown panic attack. By the end of that day, I had 3 panic attacks. By the end of the week, I'd had 2 more.
Turns out, I'm pretty bad ass during a crisis, but once things are clearly going to be fine, all hell breaks loose in my mind and I let all the emotions out at once.
I think this probably goes without saying, but I'm going to say it anyway: the dog no longer lives here. My in-laws came and took him away to our vet before we left the hospital. Our county requires bites to be reported and the dog is put in a 10 day quarantine. When the 10 days is up, the vet will be taking him to a shelter. He will never be around our family again.
Tips to Keep Calm
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Writer and Contributor for the Motherhood Community