A trip to the hospital

It’s not that I live in constant fear of impending disasters, but I do seem to be a crisis orientated person once the disaster has occurred. So while others calmly observe and consider the situation before acting (like my husband), I have the gift of being able to imagine the worst and then panic about how I will deal with it.

So, with this in mind, I admit that the potential for accidents and the enormous distance we are from good medical care does stretch my peace and faith at times. However, it seems that location doesn’t really mean much, as this story will show.

Our family had gone four years and ten days without any significant accidents, but it was bound to happen. And happen it did. Last Friday evening, just before getting into bed. Tobias and Esther asked for one last chance to enjoy one of their most exciting activities, jumping with great enthusiasm on their beds before getting into them. It’s all fun until someone gets hurt – so I’ve been told.

Tobias fell, and bumped his head on the edge of the wooden bed head with such force that he split it open! For this relatively new mummy, with her first case of split head, this constituted a significant medical emergency. Blood spurted from the wound, while Tobias screamed and my hands got sticky.

There should have been no cause for concern, since we are staying in a modern and progressive country, with an excellent emergency department not 10km away. But … Wim was not at home. The neighbours were not at home. I had no car and no telephone. We are hidden away in the woods, far from any public conveniences. I can’t speak Dutch AND it was freezing cold – literally!

I suddenly longed for my “home” in the jungle where I could run across the road to our Australian nieghbours, who would no doubt have a huge first aid box. I needed my trusty mobile phone and my ever faithful doctor Mary, always available to us day or night “at home”. But here I was, completely alone, without car, phone, friend or first aid box.

It’s so funny how things like this happen. I’m sure that the Lord is teaching me that He is the only one I can completley rely on, no matter where I am. So Esther, Tobias and I did the only thing we could do, we prayed, and I held this head with a bathroom towel to stop the blood. Eventually I was able to look up head wounds on the internet and comfort myself with the fact that Tobias probably only had a superficial head wound and would not die sitting in the comfort of a Dutch holiday house on the outskirts of a major city. After an hour or so, and comforted with a funny DVD, Tobias reminded me that it was okay, that God would look after his head. “Don’t worry Mummy...God will look after me”. Tobias’ faith was greater than mine.

Wim returned and by the end of the night Tobias was back from the hospital, his head repaired and confidently announcing that he didn’t even cry! With amazing genius the doctor had used Tobias’ own hair as the thread and tied the wound together from either side, securing it with glue. So we even learnt a helpful hint for securing head wounds without the benefit of needles. That may come in handy some time in the future, when we really are far from a hospital.

Something similar happened to me about 21/2 years ago when I returned with Esther to Adelaide in preparation for Tobias’ birth. Within 10 days, Esther, who had always been completely healthy in Cambodia was admitted to hospital with some chronic illness that everyone presumed to be tropical. After a week they admitted that she had picked up something serious after arriving in Australia.

So much for the dangers and illnesses of tropical Asian destinations. It seems that at least in our case, we have more use for the hospital in developed counties!