israeli ramblings

My 13-year-old son had an altercation with a can of tomato paste, causing a deep cut. We went to the pediatric clinic, where the doctor said the nurse should just glue it, and the nurse said we should go to the ER for stitches. It was between his thumb and finger, on the back of his hand (not the palm side, is that what you call it?). We opted for the ER. At the ER (Schneider children's hospital) the nurse said we could do either one, but the surgeon said to stitch it. She was an immigrant from France who didn't know the Hebrew word for can (kufsat shimurim). Unfortunately, the surgeon doesn't deal with hand injuries so they sent us to Beilinson to see the orthopedist (the outpatient clinics at Schneider are closed in the afternoon, don't ask how I know). We trekked over to Beilinson, opened a file, and found the orthopedist. He looked at the stickers and said, "Who's Dorit, aged 5?" Schneider had given us a set of someone else's stickers! Both hospitals print out sets of stickers for each patient, to paste on all the paperwork. Back to the Beilinson ER admission, got new stickers, waited for Schneider to send over a new set, and back to the orthopedist, who had just started putting a cast on an unfortunate child. The orthopedist examined his hand, made sure no nerves were cut, and sent us to the nurse for gluing. Argggggh! Then we trekked back to the car. Coincidentally a babysitter, whom my 3yo loves, was out with the kids when this happened, and my 15yo was home to let them in.

Hayim liked the French doctor and suggested we invite her for Shabbat. He thinks just like me; I'll ask my friend who works there (and who wasn't on duty, but I can't complain because she glued the last family injury).

So why was it my fault, in the mind of a 13yo? Because I don't buy catsup.