My 3-year old daughter endures a house-cleaning accident. For Daily Flash Fiction.
|The gut-wrenching sounds of gasping and gurgling alerted me to run to the livingroom. No script in any child-rearing manual had prepared me for the sight of my three-year old daughter, eyes wide open, coughing up bright red blood. At her strangely still feet was the toy broom she'd been sweeping with, its plastic-tipped handle stained crimson. After a quick scan of her mouth revealed no obvious source of the bleeding, and thus, nothing to apply pressure to in a bid to staunch the flow, I scooped her up and sprinted to the car. At the hospital emergency department a blood-spewing toddler garners immediate attention. We bypassed the usual triage protocols and were ushered straight into an examination room. During the doctor's assessment I held my breath, marvelling that Carrie managed to breathe while hemorrhaging with a scope probing her throat. Eerily, she could not sob. A few tears slid silently down her cheeks. With time and medical magic, the blood flow finally ceased. Carrie was grateful to be speaking again; she was normally a chatterbox. In a hoarse whisper she told me she'd 'falled down' while sweepin'. Obviously, her mouth had been open, probably in surprise, because she'd unknowingly attempted a clumsy tonsillectomy. Yep, the broom handle had made Carrie's right tonsil a target. (216 words)|