Stitches and gray hairs

Well, I knew it would happen sooner or later.
Last week Sean was playing outside with his friend and fell on the road. He came limping home, hysterical and spit out a piece of tooth. I saw a little bit of blood, but not much. I was surprised he was so upset.
I brought him inside and had him on the couch, got a cold cloth and wiped his face and then I saw it.
A deep gash just under his chin. It's that part you can't really see unless someone has their head tilted all the way back.
We made a trip to the ER. It was late, I had had a rough day, and was preparing for an even rougher one the next day. We got home around 11 something after several hours of him crying, worrying, being terrified, screaming, and quite a bit of resistance. It would have been fine if the numbing medicine had worked. When the guy came in to wash the wound it stung really bad, and that set the tone for the evening.
They numbed it more, but then he didn't trust them at all. So when they came back to wash it again he was a basket case.
Same with the stitches.
Now fast forward to Tuesday, the day he had to get them removed.
Bad scene. Our appointment was at 11:30 a.m. We were finally leaving the Dr. office at 1:30. He was afraid it was going to hurt, and had already decided he couldn't trust nurses and Dr.s anymore.
I'm pretty sure I've got a few more gray hairs than I had last Wednesday.