Finally Home

67. Tyler

Having the girls home was bittersweet. Obviously, we were so happy to have them home with us finally.

Rosie was clingy and would panic and cry if she couldn't find us. Usually if that happened, we'd find her cuddled with Samantha. Sam told us when Rosie couldn't find us, she'd ask if the 'bad people' were coming again.

Sam's Christmas presents still sat, wrapped, under the tree. She didn't seem interested in opening them. Even she was a little bit more clingy. And her nightmares were back with a vengeance. The first few nights home we were woken by her screaming and in her room in a flash.

Tonight though, it wasn't Samantha's screaming that woke me. It was a loud crash from the kitchen. I sat up as soon as I heard it. I checked the clock. It was 3:30 am.

"Tyler, someone is in the kitchen," Jenna whispered.

Like an idiot I went downstairs to see what was happening. I wasn't thinking. It could have been a burglar.

I cautiously went down the stairs and saw Sam lying on the kitchen floor. I ran over to her and saw blood on the floor near her. There was broken glass around her. Her eyes were closed.

"Sam! What happened?"

Slowly, her eyes opened. I grabbed a towel and helped her sit up. Thinking maybe she'd had a seizure and hit her head, I checked the back of her head. It was fine. But her right arm had a nasty gash. I pressed the towel on the gaping wound.

Jenna came downstairs asking what was going on. Samantha was dazed and a little confused as to why she was on the floor. She didn't know if she'd had a seizure. It seemed the most obvious reason she'd be lying on the kitchen floor at 3:30 in the morning, though. But why? She'd broken a mug.

We looked at her arm and Jenna and I both determined it needed stitches. Samantha didn't want to go to the hospital and pleaded with us, but we really needed that looked at.

She must have been in quite a bit of pain, because she continued to cry. I ran upstairs and got into sweatpants and a hoodie, grabbed my phone and wallet and went back downstairs where Jenna helped Sam into a coat and I took her out to the car.

"It'll be okay," I said. "We'll get you a pain killer, as well."

Sam continued to cry. I felt bad that she was in so much pain. I didn't remember her broken ankle causing her to cry so much.

We pulled up to the hospital and I had to convince Sam to get out of the car.

We went in and I got her registered and we were triaged. They sent her to 'Acute Care' which meant while it was important she be seen quickly, it wasn't life threatening.  Sam sat quietly beside me, sobbing silently. I put my arm around her and whispered to her that she would be okay.

We were called about 20 minutes later, by which time the hand towel was toast.

The nurse who looked at Sam's arm and cleaned it up a bit was very nice and very gentle. A doctor came in as well, determined that yes, it does need stitches, and told the nurse to prepare and to get a pain killer for Sam, who was still silently crying.

"Hi there.  I'm Dr. Walters and I hear we have a nice cut that I get to sew up," he said. Samantha barely acknowledged him. "Samantha, We'll get you fixed right up, and then back home and into bed. How was your Christmas?"

Sam shrugged.

"It was okay," she muttered, as the doctor injected the area around the cut with a numbing agent.

The doctor looked over at me.

"She had a great Christmas. She was in California visiting an aunt and uncle," I said.

"That sounds fun!" The doctor said, as the nurse brought in a tray of instruments. "Was it?"

"I guess," Sam answered.

"Okay, Samantha, I'm going to move your towel, and clean the cut, okay?  It might sting a little, but hopefully the Novocain has kicked in a little.

He picked up a bottle of sterile water and a basin the nurse had brought and placed Samantha's arm over the basin. He poured the water over her arm and Sam sucked in a breath between her teeth. She squeezed my hand with her left hand.

"Okay, good job," the doctor said to Sam, as he used a towel to gently pat dry the wound. Blood welled up.

"How did you manage this?" The doctor asked. I saw fear flash across Samantha's eyes and face.

"I fell," she said, looking at me.

"What we're you doing at this time in the morning to fall and cut your arm like this?" The doctor asked looking between Sam and I.

"I, I don't know," Sam said.

"We think, her mom and I, that she had a seizure in the kitchen. There was a broken mug near her on the floor and that's what she cut her arm on."

"You have epilepsy?" The doctor asked.

"No," Sam said. "I just have seizures sometimes. Mostly when I'm really tired because I haven't slept well."

"When did those start?"

"Sam's had a head injury with some damage to her brain. Her records are mostly here. She started having seizures after." 

"I see," Dr. Walters said, as he carefully stitched Samantha's arm. "So you had a seizure?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "Maybe."

"Why were you in the kitchen, anyway?" I asked.

"I was thirsty," Sam said quietly. I didn't press the issue any further. I'd talk to her on the car ride home.

"Okay, Samantha, all done," the doctor said, cutting the thread. "Keep that as dry as you can and change the dressing every day. You should be able to get those stitches out in about 10 days. No need to come back to the hospital for that. Urgent Care or your own physician should be able to take care of that. Sit tight, and I'll be right back with more info, okay?"

Samantha looked up and looked panicked. I nodded at the doctor and frowned at Samantha in confusion when he left.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Nothing. Can I go to the bathroom?" She asked me.

"Of course. Want me to come with?"

"No!" She said quickly. "I mean, no. It's okay. I think I can handle peeing by myself."

She hopped off the stretcher and went outside the curtained area we were in.

"Okay. I'll wait here for you," I said.