I had just finished cooking dinner and as we were getting ready to sit down to eat all of a sudden I hear this cry. I looked up and it  was my baby girl who instead of coming to tell me what was wrong she tried to go upstairs to take care of it. I immediately asked her what was wrong? Her sister said that she had cut her finger and you need to see it.  I asked her to let me take a look at it and when she had pulled back the paper towel it was more than I could have ever imagined. There was blood coming from the finger she had cut and it looked as if she had taken a big chunk out of it.  I asked her what happened and she said that she was trying to cut open her icy that she had made. I didn’t hesitate with what to do. I wrapped it back up and said let’s go, we are going to the emergency room because I already knew she would have to have stitches.  I was trying to make sure everyone stayed calm including me, although on the inside my heart was beating fast because that is my daughter and I don’t like to see when my children are hurt and they are suffering.  I had them to take their dinner with them so they could eat it along the way.  Of course my baby girl was still crying, but I kept trying to reassure her that she was going to be ok. I would hug her tight whenever I had the chance.  As we were on the way I noticed it was a little after 7:00 and thought about my Doctors office which was still open. I decided to call and to see if they would be able to work her in so we wouldn’t have to go to the ER and sit their for hours.  They said that they would see her and take a look at it.  We got there and after they looked at it said that they were going to be to able to fix her up. As I had thought she was going to have to get at least 4 stitches. Of course she was not happy about that, but the Doctor reassured her that she was going to be ok.  She talked her through every process and even let her pick out her own color stitches. The hardest part was that they were going to have to stick a needle in her wound to numb it. Not just once, but 3 times. She immediately started crying even harder because she has never been able to handle needles. The Doctor kept reassuring her and I told her I was right there and she could squeeze my hand. Each time the Doctor put in the needle I held her tight and told her to squeeze my hand as she let out a big scream and cried. She burried her head into my chest and I looked straight up to the ceiling.  Now that was tough. All I could see was blood and a swollen finger and I kept praying.  The last thing I needed to do was pass out. The worst part of it was over and it was now time to put the stitches in.  The Doctor began to talk to her about the next progress. She told her because she had a very clean cut they wouldn’t have to do any special repairs, that it would heal up just fine and that it wouldn’t take long.  You might say well

what happen to her sister during this time? She decided to wait outside because she couldn’t bear to see her in pain. She would periodically come in and check on her and right back out the door she went. It was finally over and the Doctor gave us instructions on how to keep it clean and when she needed to come back to have the stitches removed. We told her how proud we were of her because she really did good. I explained to her on the way home that she didn’t ever need to try to hide what she had done  because it was an accident, it could have gotten infected which would have made it worst.  They say that in time all wounds heal. You can normally tell by the type of cut what kind of scar it will leave, although there are some cuts that will leave an internal scar that can’t be seen from the outside. We tend to hide our scars out of fear of what others may think, embarrassment or the memory of how the scar even got there. No matter how ugly your scar it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It is what it is a scar and the scar(s) are only a testimony of the thing(s) that should have killed you, BUT yet you survived instead. We all have a story to tell and it is the tesimony of our scars that could help save someone else’s life.