No one is really quite sure exactly what happened, except she was chasing after Luke and his friend, tripped on a stair and somehow hit her head. She never lost consciousness, she wasn't bleeding or vomiting, and the paramedics my Mom called said all her of vitals looked fine. So, why did we go? Because she also didn't cry when she fell and hurt herself, was dazed and kept nodding off, and because her response times were really slow to stimulus and questions. She just wasn't herself. We called the pediatrician to get her take, and she said a head injury is nothing to mess with -- get Meg to the ER.
The emergency room is maybe a 10 minute drive from my Mom's house. On Monday it seemed to take FOREVER. Oh, and not just because we were on our way to find out if Meg had a serious head injury, but also because she was requiring we play a "Yo Gabba Gabba" album at full blast because it "made her feel better." Yet, even with the obnoxious music blaring, she could hardly keep her eyes open.
Once we got to the ER though, everything changed. It started when we sat down in the waiting room. Meg was curled on my lap, kind of dozing, when she put her head up and said "I want to go look at the fish." At first I thought she had really lost it. Fish? I saw no fish. Was this like her version of seeing stars? I wondered if I should call the nurse. Before I could Meg was down off my lap and walking away. Then I saw it: the fish tank in the far opposite corner of the room, probably 30 feet away at the least. That's when I knew Meg was going to be just fine.
Over the next two hours of waiting, being seen, waiting more, and being seen again, Meg improved rapidly. She started asking questions, singing songs, and playing shy when anyone who looked doctorish spoke to her. The doctor decided she probably had a mild concussion, and asked us to wait and let Meg have something to drink to just make sure Meg didn't need a CT scan. They brought Meg a lemonade slushie, which I am pretty sure she now thinks of as one of the greatest things to ever happen to her. I think of it as the most expensive frozen treat she'll ever have. When she didn't throw it up, or go back into drowsy mode, they let us go home.
It was only as we were walking out that I realized how truly lucky we were. The doors of the other rooms were closed, but all had windows on them, and I'm nosy, so I looked in. One kid bleeding from the mouth, at least three were being given oxygen, and most of them were crying. Outside one door that had it's window covered a group of probably ten crying adults were gathered. I quietly thanked God Meg just had a little bump on her head.
Meg is now recovering nicely. She says her head hurts at times, but it's nothing a little Motrin can't fix. She keeps asking if we can go get slushies again. I tell her yes, but this time let's just go to 7-11.