Pinkie

Today

My nephew reported on Facebook today that his  two-year had been to casualty, having caught her finger in a hinge with an injury requiring stitches.

He was very proud of the way she's coping and I'm sure his pride is justified. I just have some thoughts whether our pride in our children's stoicism (especially at age two) could cause them to suppress their real feelings. Poor little scrap, I hope she mends soon.

In My Day

Becky was two years old and sitting in the middle of our cramped sitting room floor playing "Christmas". This game entailed her placing one of her favourite toys on a big blanket spread on her lap and wrapping it up. I walked through with a tray of coffee mugs for some visitors and trod right on her little finger that was concealed under the blanket.

I managed not to drop the tray and picked up the crying child. Her little finger nail had pulled right out of the base and the finger was turning blue.

Off to casualty where they took a look and said that they would try to replace the nail. To do this involved giving Becky a "ring-block" of 4 injections at the base of the finger to numb it after which they would try to slide in the nail and repair the finger. "If you wouldn't mind waiting outside, Mrs Barrett", they said and took my baby into the curtained booth in the middle of casualty. There was silence from within the booth.

About half an hour later the nurse and doctor emerged with Becky and bandaged finger. "She was so good," they told me "not a peep!" I looked at Becky - she was only two, after all, not an age at which children are renowned for their ability to keep a check on her emotions. Her face was strange, trance-like, as though she'd entirely absented herself from the situation. I asked her if she was alright. "Did it hurt?" "Yes" "Did you want to cry?" "Yes" "Well, you can cry now if you want" "But it doesn't hurt any more"

Thinking about how she coped without me in that strange place made me want to cry and I hugged her all the way home.

I had to have a "ring-block" a couple of years later when I was having a whitlow removed. It hurt like hell.