VBS is over!  Yea!!!!  It was a success in many ways.  As some of you know, my husband decided to write this year's VBS.  There is a reason that so many churches buy curriculum already made.  This undertaking consumed his summer.  The children, however, were not aware of the tension and work involved.  All they know is that they had a really great time.  Quite a few were saved.  The VBS week ran from Sat - Wed.  This was a real break with tradition (something Jeff has no problem doing).  Usually VBS is Mon - Fri, but because of a wedding it was moved.  Jeff didn't think that the bride would appreciate getting married in a sanctuary that looked like a cave. 

The last night of VBS was a memorable one.  Jeff had already taken off for the church late afternoon to get things ready.  My boys were at the neighbor's house playing.  I was alone.  This was big and exciting to me.  I pondered many things that needed to be done and decided to sit myself down on the couch and play on the computer.  I had no sooner flipped the cover of the lap top open when I heard the sound.  The wailing.  The screaming.  The horror.  Yes, my 7 yr was injured.  I stayed put for a moment while I assessed the crying.  Anger? no.  Injustice? no.  Minor scrape? no.  "O Man".  was the thought that went through my head as I closed the lap top and sprang into action.  As I met my boy in the hallway I knew we were in trouble.  His face was covered in blood.  It appears that he fell and hit his face on some wooden steps.  He had two deep nasty wounds on his face.  I grabbed a towel to hold to the wounds.  My oldest boy came running in the house to announce "I didn't do it.."  Remember, he threw a plastic cup the week before at the same brother and we had to go to the ER that night.  I told him to gather everyone up we were going for medical attention, again.  Now for the silver lining...it was late afternoon.  I didn't have to go to the big, nasty, smelly, crowded ER.  No, I could go to the Rapid Response office were my boy would be lovingly tended to and in about half the time.  On the way to the RR, I dropped the other boys off with their dad.  Now here is where the real fun starts. 

We get to the RR office.  I notice that the waiting room is pleasant.  It is not filled with many family groupings having reunions.  It is quiet.  There is carpet. The chairs are padded.  We walk up to the receptionist.  I explain briefly our need.  This Florence Nightingale leans out from her little window and announces "Take him to the ER.  He needs a CAT scan and we don't do that here."  I blubbered up "Please, I HATE the ER."  She is unmoved.  However, in a moment of compassion she does hand us a cold compress.  As I drive away, the anger started to well up within me.  They didn't even check my boy out.  I Hate the ER.  So I call my son's doctor.  Her office is right around the corner from the hospital.  My thinking at this point was to have them assess the situation and order a CAT scan if they think one is needed.  This would allow me to skip the whole ER thing.  We were told to come in and Dr M would check things out.  We go in, I pay my co pay, you know the waiting room drill.  Finally we get into an exam room and this nurse says "We can't do anything, you need to go to the ER."  Ok.  Imagine a mushroom cloud going up after a nuclear explosion.  I was really mad now.  "Why did you tell me to come in here then?"  This nurse told me that they wouldn't order a CAT that late in the afternooon because they were about to close and they couldn't do anything if there was a problem.  WHAT?  YOU ARE MY SON'S PHYSICIAN!!!!!!!!!   Okay, so nurse sees that mama bear is about to blow a gasket so she scurries off to get the Doc.  Then they proceed with an exam.  I watched, knowing they were totally trying to at least pretend to care. The doctor starts lecturing my son on not wearing a bike helmet.  "Oh," I say.  "Are they suppose to wear helmets for tag?"  He wasn't riding a bike, you see.  He was playing tag!!  

 Now for the ironic part of the whole evening:  We leave our loving physician (I can't wait to see the bill) and head to the ER.  I HATE the ER.  Anyways, we get there and my son is so embarrassed.  I mean, he just got stitches 8 days before.  I sign him in.  A nurse comes up to us and asks if we have insurance.  YES!! Please don't make us wait here for hours.  She takes my card and then a Doc comes up to us.  We had only been sitting down for about 5 min and we were already talking to a doctor?  (insert twilight zone music here).  He asks my son questions trying to decide if he needs more than stitches.  Nope.  Just stitches.  The doctor says he'll try to get us in as soon as possible.  I beg him to do so.  He walks down a hall and enters a room.  He comes out of the room and beckons me to him.  I look around trying to figure out who the nice doctor wants.  US?  You mean it is our turn?  But we have only been here about 10 min.  Don't hospitals have some rule that each patient must spend a minimum of 2.5 hours waiting?  So my son and I follow him.  We greet the nurse who sewed up my boy last week and they get started!  We were in and out of the dreaded ER in just under an hour!  My son announced later that night that he was going to start collecting hospital bracelets (he has hung them on his bedroom wall as a trophy).  I really hope that he finds something different to collect.  Jeff wants to make him wear a catcher's mask the rest of the summer.