I thought about titling this Trevor and the Terrible, Horrible, Not-so-Good Day. He was already having a rough time because he had to eat a lunch he didn't like (perish the thought). Then, he tried to invite two different friends over to play, but both of them were not at home or not available. After complaining about the day, he went off to the guest room with his rubber 4-Square ball, bouncing away (the only safe room for such an activity).
Apparently, he turned the treadmill on and began rolling the ball against the motion of the treadmill. Somehow, the ball got wedged between the treadmill and the floor and Trevor says that he tried to get it out and, in doing so, managed to get his own hand wedged between the running treadmill and the floor. He had to yank to pull it out. He quietly ran to the bathroom and we heard sobbing. The first thing he did was begin to apologize for getting hurt (as if we would be upset with him for getting hurt). The first thing I did? FREAK OUT!
I am not a smooth operator in the midst of crisis. No, I crumble into a shrieking mess. I took one look at the wound and screamed "Oh, no, Trevor! Oh no!" John took a brief look at it and thought that he had rubbed the skin off clear down to the bone (because of the white bits we could see - we didn't realize that these were just areas of deeper skin layers). At this point, he did begin screaming and begging for the pain to go away.
Looking back, I can see how my own reaction only compounds the moment. It wasn't as bad as I made it out to be. It is bad, but it is just equivalent to a deep carpet burn (so says the doctor who looked at it at the emergency room). I felt like the workers at the emergency room felt it didn't warrant a trip to the ER. Still, I was thankful for a nurse to numb the area before digging out any dirt (that would have been quite a procedure if I had tried to handle it on my own with a screaming boy).
Hopefully, he's learned his lesson. No balls on treadmills. No hands near the moving parts of a treadmill. Ever.