The Baby Suffered a Rek-O-Kut

It was the fall of 1958.  Jeff, our first child, was ten months old.  His mother and I were visiting her parents.  Her father and I had been messing around with his Hi-Fi installation all morning (High Fidelity Magazine featured it on a cover, labeling it "The Clancy System").  There were pieces of equipment lying about when we sat down at a card table in the living room for a sandwich and coke.   Toddler Jeff was sitting at the table on a chair-back kitchen stool.  We adults were talking and happily munching away, when young Jeff reached for his Micky Mouse mug and fell off the chair.  The floor was carpeted, so his landing should have been relatively soft, but a Rek-O-Kut turntable was lying there, tilted at a 45 degree angle.  Jeff landed head first, his jaw striking the sharp metal edge.  We jumped to pick him up and were horrified to see that his lower lip was deeply split, forcing his mouth into a hyper-wide, grotesque grin. 

We held a clean towel to his chin to staunch the blood flow and quickly carried him to a doctor's office which we knew was located in the next building.  We burst into the reception room.  In a few moments the doctor appeared.  He was clearly taken aback by the scene of the baby screaming at the top of his lungs, his bloody gag, and two panicky parents.  We forced ourselves upon him, demanding his assistance.  Reluctantly, he backed into a treatment room where, with shaking hands, he attempted to thread a needle.  He approached the baby who howled even louder, wanting nothing to do with this stranger.  G' WAY! G' WAY! he screamed.

The doctor threw up his hands, shaking his head, and said to us, "Sorry, I'm not up to this".

Fortunately, there was a doctor who had treated my wife located only a few blocks away.  We hurried there.  He was everything the first doctor wasn't, and somehow, despite a screaming, squirming patient,  he managed to stitch the lip back together so well that Jeff hasn't a trace of a scar today.

I am happy to report Jeff never developed a dislike for high fidelity classical music.  In fact, I am sure he doesn't even recall the event.  But I certainly do, for while not scarred either, my memory surely bears the mark of that day.