Stadtspital Triemli

Our Ella woke up with a head cold, so we decided to stay really close to home today.  The kids lounged and watched cartoons until they got restless and started throwing pillows around the room. At that point, I started throwing things, too. Namely, children. Outside.   I don't think they much minded, though.  I often wonder what all the kids will remember from this year.  I suspect that their courtyard soccer games, like the one they fell into almost immediately, will be one of the things that really sticks in their memories.

As the kids chose teams and established goals and foul lines, Joey wandered into the group, asking "W-Where? Where me?"  I tried to call Joey back to play with me, but Ella was quick in his defense: "Oh, no, mom! He really wants to play." And then she turned to her friends and informed them that Joey would have to be included, which made the largest boys snort a little. But Ella was firm, ignoring them. "And there are a few rules when Joey plays.  You have to be really careful around him. And he gets to use his hands if he wants to." And so Joey played, too.

Ella got tired pretty quickly, though--she really wasn't feeling well--and so soccer didn't last too long today. Joey toddled off to the sandbox, and Ella wandered inside and asked if we could play card games.  And so we spent a good part of the afternoon resting in the sunshine on the patio, teaching Alex how to play a variation of rummy called Five Crowns.

After fixing an early dinner (and realizing that it's really hard to cook the world's longest pasta, those noodles we bought in Italy) I took the kids outside to play.  Ella had been begging me all day to play Gargamel to her Smurfette, but when we finally played, she got tired of running almost immediately.  I suggested that she try to make a Smurf board game instead, and the wheels started turning...

Back in the house, Joey, informed me that it was his bedtime, and he went right to sleep after his story, well before 7:00. But Alex wasn't even close to tired. He was bouncing around so much that Dennis decided to take him for a scooter ride around the neighborhood.

It's interesting, how attuned a parent is to the particular cries or her child.  I heard Alex shrieking before I could see him.  When he did come into view, he was draped in Dennis's arm. Alex been going at a pretty fast clip, and he'd been considering crossing the street but, when he looked both ways approaching the curb, he noticed a motorcycle coming up the street.  So he corrected his course, but he also lost control of his scooter, slipping on some gravel.  Alex was mostly concerned with his scraped hands, raw and red, but a trivial injury.  I, on the other hand, was really worried about his knee: a small, sharp stone had cut deeply into him.

He had to go to the hospital: I was sure he'd need a stitch.

Our closest hospital, Triemlispittal, is only a mile away.  I was knew our neighbors would loan us their car to get there, but Dennis didn't see a need: he scooped Alex up bodily and carried him to the tramline, to he hospital.

Meanwhile, Ella was frantic on Alex's behalf.  "I never thought something so awful would happen to someone close to me!" She'd almost had a stitch, once, and I don't think the fear of the needle has ever left her.  She sat down to make her brother a card, straight away.

And while she was writing, I was on the phone with Aetna, trying to figure out exactly how our policy works. This is the first time this year that we've had to deal with anything medical. It turns out that we always need to pay for our claims out-of-pocket, and then submit a form for reimbursement after the fact.  I guess the hospitals and doctors here don't much feel like dealing with the insurance companies.

Alex saw several nurses and two doctors, all of whom spoke good English, but his final the doctor's was impeccable.  The checked all his bones and looked for signs of a concussion, and they were particularly concerned that the stone might have punctured the bursa fluid sack in his knee. But all was well...essentially. He did, indeed, need a stitch.

All patched up

Dennis made the slight tactical error of explaining to Alex exactly what a stitch was.  Alex was so out of his mind with fear by the very idea that he started bawling as soon as he saw the stitch kit.  But the nurse had rubbed a magical numbing potion on Alex's knee and so the doctor managed to put the stitch in place before Alex even realized the procedure had started.  He was too distracted by crying, and Dennis with calming him.

II was amazed to learn that the charge for the emergency room visit was only 310 CHF.  Dennis had explained that he'd be paying out of pocket, but that the insurance would be reimbursing.  But the nurse told him, in turn, that she'd given him the lowest possible charge: Dennis wasn't sure if she believed he actually had insurance, or if she was just trying to minimize his inconvenience.  Either way, they were very accommodating.

I have to say, I'm incredibly grateful that Dennis took care of Alex through all of this.  I think I would have been a bit of a mess, but Dennis handled the whole thing beautifully.

The doctor sent Alex home with a plastic syringe that he took great pride in showing me, as well as a spare surgical cap.  And he'd gotten to watch many, many Smurf episodes in the waiting room. And I'd spent my quiet evening making him his favorite berry cake: he picked out the scent of it as soon as he got in the door.

So, all in all, he was feeling pretty fine by the end of the night.