Splints to Bind

So, there I am, back where we left me. Returning from the kitchen in our house, where the rest of the family and I had just sat through a quiet dinner (in itself an incredibly rare event) having been under direction to give me the ‘silent’ treatment during the meal (see blog 22^nd July 2012). Leaving the warm kitchen (ambient temperature, not feeling),where the pineapple upside down pudding was cooking in the oven. The pudding I would not be allowed, as I was sent back to the room, awaiting the return of my mother, injured brother and father. My father would then be dealing with my punishment for injuring my brother (even if it was an accident). The hours of waiting (a bit like the waiting for those of you following this blog), were already starting to take their toll. I was not just worried, but was suffering from the full extremes. The stress was steadily rising. Facing the unknown. What could I expect from my father?
Initially, the total panic, when I actually believed I had killed my brother (Accidentally) and realized I would probably be killed by my father, when it was discovered as with so many witnesses I couldn’t just walk away and disappear for ever (or could I? The thought was a fleeting possibility). My fears changing as I realized he was still alive and carried his small form limp in my arms as I ran back home with him. His head injury, undetermined, but the blood poured from the wound. Some first aid knowledge, or rather some calm application of the small amount of first aid I did know, would have been helpful. Realizing I should have just put a cloth over it and applied pressure, before moving him would have helped enormously. But there was that panic factor, and we were only young children. There were some techniques we as young children were aware. For example even at that age, I knew how to make a splint to protect a broken arm from moving.
Does that sound as bad as it seems? Our family had already suffered various injuries including several broken limbs between numerous members (myself included). But they were quite different to my brother’s current injury, as they did not (bar one), involve copious amounts of blood. And a compound fracture (of which I am referring to as the one that bled), while looking pretty nasty, is definitely colourful. The skin tones, the muscle tones, the bone tones, and of course the blood, all laid out. The first aid technique for treating a compound fracture can on occasion involve a splint, but when the injury I am referring to occurred (later blog), there were more than enough adults to deal with it, not just a group of slightly stunned children as had happened at the park with the stilt collecting my brothers head. 
(Continued tomorrow)