How Many Times?

It was a great plan, or so we thought. Abbie has shown a little interest in golf over the past several weeks, and I've taken the time to go to the driving range with her, setup a net in the backyard for practice, and finally, to get a tee time for us this past Sunday afternoon. She's really been doing well, and I think it might be right up her alley since she only has to concentrate in 15 second bursts rather than say an entire hour at a softball game.

So, Leah and I talked and thought it would be a good idea to spend some time as a family on the golf course. Since it was a little cold and dreary, we figured there wouldn't be too many people on the course, and we planned for Reagan and the other sisters to join us at the number 6 tee box since it is close to the house. After we got the all-clear from the clubhouse to put three people in each cart, we headed out and called Reagan to meet us at the green for hole 5.

Abbie had been playing very well, but you know what happens when you get all the kids out there together. They can't stand for only Abbie to be playing. Emma and Sydney had to try as well. Surprisingly, Emma walked out there (4 years younger than Abbie) and took a swing with a club that's really too long for her and hit the ball almost as far as Abbie. I was pretty impressed. Sydney didn't do so well, but the shortest club we have is nearly as tall as she is, and Reagan chose to just sit in the cart and watch.

We were really having a great time with the kids on the course, and we stopped after the ninth hole for a quick break in the clubhouse. It was just after that that the trouble started. After Leah, Abbie, and I took our second shots on the tenth fairway, the kids were taking their turns. I was watching Sydney, and apparently, Reagan had chosen to take a swing, too. The next thing I know, Leah was screaming at the top of her lungs. Not like angry momma screaming. It was more like Jamie Lee Curtis trying to get away from her crazy brother screaming.

I turned around and saw Leah laying on her side, holding her head. Reagan was standing over her crying. Abbie was hiding behind the nearest golf cart, curled up in a ball, and crying. Emma was stunned. Sydney was still trying to hit the golf ball and looked at me as if to say, "Could you please get the gallery to be quiet?"

I ran over to Leah and did a quick visual inspection. She was bruised all around her left ear and the top of her ear lobe was bleeding. There was a lot of blood, but I couldn't find any other sources than just her ear lobe. I put the kids into action getting towels, picking up clubs, gathering our hit balls, and waiting for me by the other cart. I took Leah to the clubhouse to get some ice for her ear and head. I think the girl at the register thought I wanted to use it for a cooler or something, though, because when I said I wanted a little bit of ice, she pulled out a trash bag and starting filling it. I didn't have time for that. Two scoops in, I grabbed the trash bag and headed back to the cart.

We got back to where the kids had been waiting and the marshal had driven up. I don't think he heard the screaming, but I'm sure he was wondering why there were four unattended children on the course. Apparently, Reagan had already told him what had happened. She was swinging her club and didn't check behind her. Leah was behind her and didn't know she was swinging. Reagan had hit her ball and then her mom.

Reagan took two of the sisters with her in the other cart, and Leah and squeezed Sydney between us in our cart. The marshal followed us out to the truck and helped us unload our things and took the carts back to the clubhouse for us. He was really very helpful, and I'm going to write a note to the club later today expressing my thanks for his help.

Quickly, I dropped the kids by the house and left instructions with Reagan and Aunt Sis before Leah and I headed to the ER. The closest hospital to us that I know of is Baylor Garland, so that's where we went. I was not prepared for the rest of our evening.

First, I was shocked at the number of people in the ER that showed no outward symptoms that seemed worthy of an ER visit. Come to find out, there are some people that identify ERs that will take them without insurance and they go there for there for pretty much anything. Some of them even have insurance, and they still game the system this way so they don't have to pay the co-pay and deductible. I'm not sure how it works, but it kept us in the waiting room for a while. Honestly, while we waited, I saw one little girl that had what appeared to be a very minor scratch. She was there about ten minutes and left with a band-aid. Come on, I'll give you $1 to buy a box of band-aids and get out of my way. I also saw another woman who seemed to know everyone there, including the patients. She chatted with the nurses about how things were going around the ER and some of the recent process changes they had made. I think this woman just comes in every Sunday to hang out and see if anything is wrong with her. It was almost bizarre, but nothing could have prepared me for triage.

Talking to the triage nurse opened my eyes to whole different world that this ER apparently deals with on a fairly regular basis. Up to that point, a lot of people had asked what happened. The kids, the marshal, my aunt, etc. Without exception, they asked the same question after I told them that Leah was hit with a golf club: "How did that happen?" It's just not something that happens very often, so it seems like a natural question. The triage nurse broke that trend. He asked Leah what happened, she told him she was hit with a golf club. Without looking up, slowing down, or even changing his deadpan delivery he says, "How many times?"

It took me completely off guard. What kind of question is that? Leah was confused. It never even entered either of our worlds that someone might have intentionally hit her; not to mention having done it multiple times. This guy was completely serious. Obviously, this was not the first time that he'd ever seen someone hit with a golf club, but I think it might have been the first time that he saw it happen accidentally. Leah told him, "Only once…I think." Great answer, hon. Now the guy is eyeing me, and I can tell he's trying to decide whether he should call the cops to investigate or not. Blood on my pants, a golf club, "Sure it was an accident," his mind screamed. And I'm trying not to smart off with something like, "Hey, I stopped when I realized the blood would stain cotton." See, sometimes I can resist being sarcastic.

We sat in that waiting room for at least 90 minutes. I told Leah that I think it's a weed out process. If it's bad enough to sit in the waiting room for 90 minutes, then you get rewarded with a room, a bed, and a TV. But that's just the second phase. You have be able to wait in a room, on a hospital bed, with a TV tuned to some unknown cable channel, with no remote, and the volume just loud enough that you can tell the actors are talking but not loud enough to actually be able to understand them. If you can wait in that room for another hour, then you get rewarded with a nurse. It keeps going until you finally get to home about 5 hours later.

Now, to be fair to my friends in the medical community. I know that there can be more serious cases that need to take priority, but honestly, did it really take 5 hours to put a little superglue on Leah's ear and write a prescription for some pain medication? We had a CT done by 8pm. We had the results by 10pm (which seems like a long time to me). We left the hospital at 1:30am, and then we had to go wait at the pharmacy for drugs.

And tell me this, how is it possible that when I went in the CVS at 1:45am that it still took 20 minutes to get the prescription filled? It's just me and the pharmacist in there. Who else is he filling prescriptions for? Or is he having trouble counting out the pills? Hopefully, not or I should be concerned about the meds I got. I think he was punishing me for acting like I was going to smart off and say, "Dude, who could possibly be in line ahead of me at this hour?"

The good news is that she only has a minor concussion and a small laceration on her ear lobe. The bad news is that the whole left side of her face is bruised and her ear hurts so bad that she can't move it all. Not even like when she talks or eats. Well, maybe the talking part should be in the good news, but you get the point. It hurts.

She's at home now, and I'm only in the office long enough to do a couple of meetings and then I'm headed back to take care of her.