Word Count: 507
The Day the Rabbit Died
By Peg Scarano
It was a hot August day and the neighborhood children were romping around the pool while my friend and I played lifeguard. Jenny volunteered to make a Cool-Pop run. The pool gate flew open as she bounded toward the house tripping up the concrete steps. Her scream sent chills up my spine in spite of the heat of the day. I bounded out of my chair and assured myself Jenny was over-reacting to a scraped knee.
I looked at her knee. All I saw was a gash and what looked to be her kneecap. I do not do blood. Panic set in. As calmly as I could, I said to her, “Get in the kitchen and sit down.” I helped her hobble to the house and sat her down. I grabbed the first towel I saw (white, of course) and immediately threw it on her knee just as I saw Mount Vesuvius spew red lava. “Hold this tight,” I cried as I looked away.
I grabbed the phone and called my husband. Fortunately, he answered on the first ring. “Come home right now!” I wheezed and hung up. I then called my pediatrician’s office and while I was hyperventilating and gasping for air, I whimpered, “Jenny fell and I can see her kneecap,” and hung up.
My OB-GYN and pediatrician were married. I was surprised to see my OB-GYN meet us at the door and then I remembered him telling me after the birth of one of the girls that he loved to sew and embroider. He took one look at Jenny’s knee and calmly whispered, “Take her to the ER. I’ll meet you there.” That didn’t sound good!
Five minutes later, Jenny was in an exam room and I determined I was the worst mother in the world as I couldn’t look at her, afraid I would see blood and feel more nauseous than I was already feeling. Reflecting on that thought for a moment, I recalled I had been feeling queasy for several days. As the doctor prepared to perform a work of art on Jenny’s knee, he looked at me and said, “You don’t look so good. Are you OK?” I shook my head in thought and asked if he could write me prescription for a lab test.
While Jenny and her dad were being brave and supportive, respectively, I left the room. As I wobbled back to the ER, the doctor was just finishing his masterpiece. I was told there were three layers of stitches on her knee cap. How do you do that when there was no skin in sight? At least it was bandaged and I could be a loving and caring mother again.
Later that night, the phone rang. It was the good doctor asking me how the patient was faring and then informed me the rabbit had died so I had better get ready to deal with more bumps, bruises, broken bones and blood. That piece of news was the final stitch in sewing up our eventful day!