First aid kit.
I saw the shriek three (or maybe four?) seconds before I heard it come out of Nicolas.
We were only going to be on the patio for a couple of minutes so I hadn’t bothered with shoes for either of us. I thought he’d gotten the point after I redirected him from the hot pavers in the sun back to the cool ones in the shade. But he’s a toddler and there’s nothing he loves more right now than asserting his independence and doing things his own way. So it wasn’t entirely unexpected when he shot me a big grin and skirted back in the other direction.
Was I already standing up to go get him or was I still sitting on the ground by his trucks as I realized how hot the strip of metal flashing between our patio and the neighbor’s must be?
How fast does a toddler’s nervous system say “freeze” while his mother’s turns on the fight?
And how many seconds, exactly, does it take for a scream to travel 15 feet?
***
Nicolas’s feet will be OK. Painful, yes, especially to stand or walk on at the moment but there are so many ways it could have been worse.
After cool water rinses and a dose of baby Advil for the pain, Nicolas was still crying just as hard as when I first rushed him in to the kitchen sink so I told Joe I was calling the Health Unit’s duty officer to find out what we should do. Because a few small blisters had appeared, we were advised to head to a pediatric urgent care just to be on the safe side.
The car ride must have been a distraction because Nicolas calmed down and was mostly content to suck on his soothie while I sat next to him stroking his hair and Joe battled traffic the twenty minutes and 7km it took to get to the clinic.
It took some fumbling for us to find the words to describe first to reception and then to the doctor and nurse what had happened and what we had done, but we managed. And we could follow along as Nicolas’s feet were washed with saline, swabbed with betadine, and slathered with silver sulfadiazine cream. Poor child screamed bloody murder the whole time but I suspect it was more out of fear than pain (although I’m sure it didn’t feel pleasant). Then the doctor slowly and simply explained follow-up care and sent us home with a script for more cream and a slightly stronger NSAID.
The whole trip cost $4,290 DOP (about $75 USD).
***
I have, over the course of my life, been incredibly thankful to have access to decent medical care. But I don’t think I’ve been quite so thankful as I was today. Let’s break it down, shall we:
Joe is a trained first responder (although his EMT card is expired) and I’m more or less current on my first aid training. We knew what to do in the immediate moments after Nicolas burned his feet. Plus, we had access to running, clean (if not potable) water to cool those little tootsies off and a bottle of infant pain killer at ready disposal.
When it was clear that we needed some extra support, all I had to do was pick up the phone to call the embassy. I was connected to a medical professional who knows both the American standard of care as well as the local system’s capabilities and limitations.
We had a vehicle that we could use to quickly get us to a private clinic specializing in pediatric care. And we had the means to be able to pay without hesitation what, for many, might be a difficult sum.
***
There’s a lot to ponder right now. I’m feeling what I think is a healthy amount of guilt for the parenting miscalculation that led to my kid getting hurt. I’m reflecting on my privilege and knowing that it comes with responsibility. And I’m feeling immensely grateful that Nicolas is OK.
I’m pretty sure it’s time to call it a day.
