What started as innocent playground fun ended with swelling, scans, and a 3am discharge from the ED.

Disclaimer

All characters in this story are real, but some judgement calls (like walking up slides) may have been questionable. No fractures detected – unless you count the crack in our evening plans.

It was an ordinary weekday evening – well, ordinary until my phone pinged with a photo from my wife.
There was our 7-year-old, sporting a faint bruise on his right cheek, looking more like he’d been in a minor playground scuffle than anything too dramatic.

“What happened?” I text back.

Apparently, about an hour earlier, he’d been walking up a slide with some friends (and really, who hasn’t done this?).

Unfortunately, gravity staged a protest. One slip later and he’d face-planted the slide. Straight home, ice pack applied, and everything seemed fine. I told my wife I was just finishing up at work and would head home.

The swelling begins

About 20 minutes later, still at my desk, my phone rang. It was my wife – frantic. The bruise was no longer faint. In fact, it was swelling by the minute, blossoming into a deep purple badge of misadventure just under his right eye.

Before I could say anything, she announced she was bundling him into the car and heading to the Emergency Department (ED… or A&E… or whatever your local term for “hospital where bad things are checked out”).

I threw on a hoodie over my work clothes and headed straight there.

The waiting game

We were triaged by around 7.30 pm. By 9 pm an ED consultant appeared, apologising for the “extremely long” waits. Five hours until we could see a clinician.

And indeed, it was around 1.30 am when we were finally called in.

The big question: X-ray or CT scan?

Pros and cons were discussed, but the size and location of the swelling – right next to his eye – tipped the decision towards a head CT. The worry was a possible orbital fracture.

As a parent, I’m usually fairly laid-back about bumps and scrapes. My wife, on the other hand, has a more realistic (read: cautious) approach. This time, I was firmly in her camp.

Into the scanner

By 2.15 am we were in the radiology department. Our son was unfazed – we’d explained what a CT scanner was before – and his only question for the radiographer was whether he should keep his eyes open or closed. We were told to wait outside.

My wife, ever the questioner, asked why we couldn’t wait in the control room where we could see him. Good question. I had no answer – likely just hospital protocol. Something I’ll check on next week.

The best 2.30 am question ever

Ten minutes later, from inside the scanner, our son asked the radiographer:

“When will the report be ready to be seen?”

Honestly, not bad for a 7-year-old at 2.30 am.

Of course, the radiographer couldn’t give him an answer. I knew the protocol – reports usually have to be completed within an hour – but explaining that would have killed the moment.

The verdict

Back in the waiting room, we were called in just after 3 am.

The consultant showed him the images and explained: no fracture. Just swelling.

The prescription: Ibuprofen, paracetamol, cold compresses, and – to our son’s dismay – no sport for 2–3 weeks.

Pain-wise? He rated it a 3/10.

We left at 3.30 am and collapsed into bed. By 8.30 am I was back at work, messaging the team to explain why I looked like I’d been up all night (because I had).

Today, the bruise looks worse. But as we all know: it always looks worse before it gets better.