Accidents Do Happen

No matter how careful parents are, they can’t be with their children at all times. We feel we have been blessed with not having had really serious things happen, but accidents seem to happen to boys, and ours were no different.

The first major accident happened in Denver after we had moved to our new house on Patton Ct. Jim, 1st grade, and Jay, kindergarten, were home from school. A neighbor boy, Michael, came over to play, and they all trooped downstairs. I was in the back bedroom getting ready to go to my alumnae meeting of S.A.I. when I heard a terrible “thump, thump, thump.” Michael had left the basement door open (our boys were trained always to close the door) but Lee, 10 months old, in his Taylor Tot stroller, had followed them, and gone down the stairs. That was the “thump”. I rushed to pick him up, my heart pounding, and discovered he’d been knocked out, but his face, from top of the nose to upper lip, had been split open. My mind went blank. I couldn’t remember Jim’s office number, or the doctor’s name or number. In the meantime, Michael had rushed home to get his mother. By the time she arrived, my memory had returned, and I had called Jim and the doctor. The doctor called an ambulance, but Jim came before the ambulance. We loaded Lee in the car and drove to the doctor’s office. He took one look at Lee and directed us to the hospital where the doctor had arranged for a plastic surgeon to meet us. The doctor sewed him up with stitches inside and out and also put both arms in casts so Lee wouldn’t disturb the stitches. We brought him home in a day or two, but the nurses had given him his milk in a cup, so that was the end of the bottle.

Another accident had happened a little bit before Lee’s accident, Jimmy was standing at the front screen door when a wind gust went through the house and knocked him out the door onto the front cement porch, breaking off one of his front teeth. I took him to our periodontist, but because it was a baby tooth, he felt it would be all right to leave it as it was.

The next experience (not really an accident) was the removal of tonsils and adenoids. This operation was normal procedure, back in the day, whether children really needed it or not. Jimmy was the first, at about age 6, and he really did need it. However, when he was about 8 or 9, the doctor discovered his adenoids had grown back. So, this time the procedure was done in the doctor’s office, nurse assisting and I was assigned to sit holding Jimmy’s hands, trying to keep him calm, while the doctor probed in his nose, cutting the adenoids out. That, however, was not the end of it. They grew back again, and we went through the same procedure once more. Not fun, I can assure you – but finally a success.

Next came Jay, with no problems with his operation. He was about five.

Then came Mark. He had had so many colds, sore throats, etc. that the doctor decided he should have the operation, even though he was only about 3 ½. When Jim and I were allowed into the recovery room, Mark was standing up in the crib, crying and yelling, and shaking that crib. The doctor wanted him to be in hospital one more night. That was one of the hardest thing we’ve done, having to walk out of that room. We did pick him up the next morning.

Lee had his tonsils and adenoids out but had no problems.

When Mark was about 8 or 9, he and his Dad, the other boys, Carl Bunger and his boys were in the back yard playing catch with a football. Mark went back to catch a pass, running backward, and ran into one to my clothes line poles (no dryers back in those days) and knocked himself out. He came to a little bit later but really had a “good egg” for a while.

We had bought a trampoline while we lived in Denver, and we were very fortunate not to have any serious accidents related to that. Our rule was to have only one person jumping at a time, and all were to take turns. I have always believed that the moves Jay and Mark made in their diving careers, they learned from their trampoline moves.

The next accident happened to Lee. It was the spring of 1965, and Jim had already started a new job at Commence Bank in Kansas City. I remained in Denver to let the boys finish the year at their schools, and to sell the house. One Saturday afternoon Lee went to a friend’s house to play. Later, as he was leaving he leaned down from his bicycle to pet his friend’s dog. No one knows what got into the dog, but he jumped up on Lee, caught his chin in his teeth, and bit him, causing a bad gash. The mother, of course, called me right away. I picked Lee up in the car, called our pediatrician, who met us at his office. The doctor told me he would sew Lee’s chin up, but he would need a plastic surgeon later. So he sewed him up, with me holding Lee’s hands (Saturday and no nurse available). This was not pleasant for either of us, but Lee was very brave. Fortunately, Lee’s friend’s family had insurance, so when we moved to Kansas City, Lee entered the hospital and a plastic surgeon redid the bad scar that had been left on Lee’s chin.

Things went along smoothly for a few years. The boys had cuts and scratches normal to active boys. We had not taken a real sightseeing vacation with the boys (we typically came to Kansas City and Pittsburg, KS to visit grandparents) so we decided to change that and head for California. However, before we left Jimmy had jumped down from something and landed wrong, breaking bones in his foot. The doctor put it in a walking cast, and we went on our vacation. This was really a “bummer” for Jimmy because we spent time on the beaches along the coast, and all Jimmy could do was watch us having fun in the ocean. I’m sure he was quite ready to get that cast off when we returned home. The boys were all active in sports from an early age, but it soon became evident that Jimmy was leaning more toward musical activities. However, he did play 9th grade footfall and then center on the senior high football team.

Jay, Mark and Lee played football. Mark and Jay played basketball, Mark and Lee wrestled and the three of them played baseball till they entered college. As you’d imagine there were accidents along the way.

In 8th grade Mark got his nose bashed in (he insisted on going back into the game even though the coach didn’t want him to). We headed for the doctor’s office, and again, I was called on to help. I held Mark’s hands as the doctor put 2 small wooden splints up his nose to be sure it would grow back straight. Mark also broke his wrist as a senior on his high school team. Mark also was hit so hard in one game he was in a coma for a few minutes (a scary moment for his parents).

Jay had a broken nose in a basketball practice, and again, I was called. Jay was taken to the hospital where reconstruction surgery was performed. Jay had a sprained ankle as a senior on the team. Do you see a pattern here – first Jimmy, then Lee, and finally Mark, holding their hands to help the Doctor and keep them calm? I kept hoping I didn’t ever have to do that again.

Lee had a hard hit on his upper arm, in football, and in a year or so a bone spur had grown where he was hit, so that had to be removed. He has quite a scar several inches long, and he used that at times to get sympathy from girl friends. He played in about five games and then hurt his back, so that was the end of his football season.

I’m sure you who are parents know how injuries or accidents affect you. In each case, it seemed as if my adrenalin surged through my body, and I always wished it was I and not one the them experiencing the trauma. All in all, however, we feel very fortunate not to have had anything more serious happening to them, as they reached their adulthood