And, what if that child was, your very own!
Well, that's what happened to my five year old daughter a few days ago.
And, quite frankly, I thought I knew what fearlessness meant, until I saw what took place on the surgeon's operating table.
I mean, we've all read about some act of fearlessness, courage and boldness, but, we've probably never really identified or felt it... up close... and, personal.
So when the consul
ting surgeon said that it's better that the lower lip was operated on (my daughter fell from a height of around five feet, letting go of the monkey bars, but landed on her chin, so pushing her lower teeth through her bottom lip), both my wife and I agreed.We also agreed that general anesthetic would be better, but, settled for local anesthetic.
So what the surgeon first did was apply an anesthetic gel to the ripped and torn area of my daughter's lower lip.
What happened next, jolted us.
The surgeon said that he was going to apply stitches to the area, now, right at that very moment.
What jolted us was the fact that there was no local anesthetic being given.
When we asked the surgeon, he just said that we should do it now because it just needed to be done, right there and then.
So now I was spread across the surgeon's consulting couch to get in front of my daughter who was propped up against the back support.
I was showing her pictures and videos on my mobile phone, just to distract her attention from the stuff that was about to happen.
My wife positioned herself behind my daughter's head, supporting and comforting her from that position.
The blood was now, flowing.
My daughter, was screaming.
I was fumbling with the various images on the phone, trying to talk through the pictures and videos to my daughter.
The surgeon was stitching, and stitching, and stitching.
It seemed like, an eternity.
I was getting hotter and hotter.
I was sweating, madly.
Like I had some form of tropical fever.
I needed air.
No. I WANTED air!
Desperately.
I removed my sweater with one hand, still fumbling with the phone in the other.
The surgeon looked up at me and asked if I was okay.
"I'm burning up" I told him.
And in a matter of seconds, he'd finished his work.
I was now in the corner, head between my knees.
My daughter was having the blood wiped from around her mouth area. She had five stitches.
I looked up at her from where I was sitting, still a little hot, eyes moist. And totally in awe of what happened.
I'd just witnessed pure courage and fearlessness... in all its glory and reality.
My daughter.
She's my super hero.
Who's yours?
