This site is dedicated to my fondness for fowl. Not in any way that requires years of therapy. It's not even my favorite meat. I just think it's neat. What can I say? I am easily amused.
Plus, it may have something to do with the fact that my first and middle names said together are a homonym of poultry (Paul Troy).

Thursday, March 27, 2008

A Major Minor Medical Emergency

Yesterday. 8:45 AM. I get the call. The caller display on my cell phone says Children's Paradise, the daycare for both our sons. Having been a client there for almost 4 years, I am somewhat used to the calls. No, that's a lie. You never get used to those calls. When you see the display, you hope it's something minor like a scraped knee or a slight fever. You hope that it is not something horrific; something major like an injury requiring stitches. We've never had a major call, until yesterday.

Our oldest son, the 3 year old, was sitting on the floor playing quietly when another boy who was spinning around accidentally head butted our son in the mouth. Maria, the head Daycare person, said that his teeth were bleeding and that I should take him to the dentist. I assured her that I would be right there.

Now, comes time for the second call. I had to call Mrs. Pheasantly and tell her what happened. I think it's important to enter a side note at this point in the story, one to all the other dads out there. When calling your wife to tell them something has happened to one of their offspring, choose your words very carefully.

scene: her phone rings
Her: Hi Honey. What's up?
Me: I got a call from daycare.
Her: Oh, what happened?
Me: There's been an accident. Wesley has been hit in the face. I am going to need Dr. Krugman's phone number.

This is the point in the conversation where Mrs. Pheasantly envisions our oldest sprawled out on the floor gurgling blood staring in a daze at some of his teeth laying next to him.

Yeah. I could have phrased that a little better.

So, after I calm her down (I've arrived at the daycare by this point), I reassure that it doesn't look that bad and I take him to our family dentist, Dr. Krugman.

The end of the story is that Wesley did not suffer any major damage to his teeth, either his baby teeth or his adult teeth which are already formed. One of the baby teeth may turn black but we'd only have to live with that until it gets replaced with the adult tooth.

It could have been a lot worse. Just ask my wife.

4 comments:

Jessica@Foodmayhem said...

Are you trying to scare me into not having children?

sari said...

Yes, you must always choose your words carefully.

For example:

"EVERYTHING IS FINE, but..."

that way you know there's something but it's not life threatening. :-)

TroyBoy said...

Jessica, hey, you can handle having your doggie toss his cookies into your hand; you'll be fine!

Sari, thanks for the tip. Albeit a tad late this time around but it'll come in handy next time. :-)

Andrea Frazer said...

Wow, you lose either way. If you tell your wife on the way over, she's freaking out. If you wait until you've surveyed the damage, and then call, she's mad that you didn't notify her sooner. (I'm guessing on the second.)

Basically, I'm acknowledging that sometimes women are crazy, and you seem like a good balanced man.

And congrats on good teeth.