On October 15, 2011, on a sunny autumn day approximately nine thirty to be exact, my heart felt like it wanted to stop. It was pounding as fast as a racing car engine. I was at work when I received a phone call from my fiancé Allan letting me know that something had happened to my son Julian. So, thoughts were piling in my head trying to find out whether it was good or bad. All I could hear was that he was trying to open the door and went through it. Now I am thinking about how bad the situation was. Did he cut his face, arms or legs? Is he having trouble breathing? Was he going to be rushed to the hospital by ambulance? Once I gave myself a second to stop and breathe, I realized that I had to calm down. Allan took Julian’s arm and wrapped it with a towel because blood was gushing out like a busted water main. It was everywhere on the walls, floors, sink, and even in the car. Then Allan took Julian and rushed him to Moses Cone Hospital in Greensboro, NC. They immediately brought Julian to the back of the pediatric trauma unit. Julian remained as silent as a mouse the whole time everything was happening. For a minute it was thought that he might have been in shock because of all of the blood that was lost. The nurse said he lost enough blood to fill a pint size milk container.
Once I sat down for a second, at around ten thirty a.m. I found out that Julian put his right arm through one of the glass panes of the kitchen door. His arm had a cut so deep that you were able to see his muscle contracting. It looked like a heart beating rising up and down. One part of me was relieved, and the other part was still on edge because we still didn’t know if Julian had did major damage to his arm. It was the weirdest feeling ever to know that something had happened to my child, and I couldn’t do anything about it at the moment. I was without my car and trying to figure out who was going to bring me to the hospital. I made a phone call to my soon-to-be mother-in-law, Marsha. She answered the phone and I said, “Julian cut his arm open and I need a ride to the hospital, please.” She said, “I just got to the North Carolina A & T homecoming parade and I parked about three miles down the road.” Then I said, “Well if it’s going to be an inconvenience I will figure out another way of getting there.”She then said, “No! I will come and get you just give me a second to walk to the car.”I said, “Okay, I will be out front waiting for you.”
It was now around eleven thirty when Marsha came to my job and brought me to Moses Cone Hospital. It took us about ten minutes to get there. I went in and asked, “Can you please tell me what room my son Julian Elliott is in?” The receptionist said, “He is in the pediatric trauma unit.” We went back in the room and that’s when I saw how bad the cuts were. Julian had cut deep enough that I was able to see the muscle move. I didn’t know whether to cry, hold him in my arms or just be brave for Julian. The nurse came in and started cleaning his arm. She told him that he was being very brave. I thought to myself, if it were me, I would have panicked and made the wound worse.
After the nurse cleaned it, Julian was sent to x-ray around eleven fifty-five to make sure there was no glass in his wound. The radiologist technician told Julian that when he was his age he did the same thing to himself but he had put both arms through a glass window. He then showed Julian the scares that still remained from his accident. They were thick like tree limbs and dark as a sole of a shoe. At around twelve fifteen the doctor came in the room. She greeted us by saying she was Dr. Tamika. She said to Julian and the rest of the family “If Julian would have cut about one-half inch deeper, then he would have done major damage to his forearm.” I was thanking God at that moment because he didn’t allow Julian to injure himself severely. The doctor cleaned him with a sterile solution and stitched his arm and wrist with a needle that looked like Captain Hook’s hand in the Peter Pan movie. By time the doctor was done, Julian had six stitches in the inside of his wound, seven on the outside, and two in the middle of his wrist. The nurse wrapped his arm in gauze and told him to not immerse his arm in water for at least a week or two.
Julian was released at twelve forty-five but while sitting in the hospital to find out how bad his injury was felt like eternity. I learned never to take for granted that nothing will ever go wrong and to always be prepared for any situation. Since this freak accident, the door has been fixed of course but I have taught my son to slow down and be careful. I said to him, “He was blessed because it could have been much worse.”
It’s been three months since the incident. Julian still has pain in his arm, so every time he looks at his arm, he says, “I wish I wasn’t rushing that day because now I have this big scar on me.” I feel bad when he says that because I just wish I had been there to prevent him from getting hurt. No mother wants to find out that something has happened to one of their children. So parents, please make sure if you aren’t able to be with your children all the time, just please have someone responsible keeping an eye on them.