Can Life Get Any Crazier...

So I was making dinner tonight about 5:30, expecting Allen home in the next thirty minutes, and I asked Brookelyn to put away my bathing suit that she had put on earlier. She walked into our bedroom (which is a wreck because we have moved everything around for the painters) and tripped on the rug, falling into the wooden bedrail (the same bedrail she tore her lip on just a few weeks ago). I heard the crack from the kitchen. I went running in there, scared to death to pull her hand away from her head, and saw a huge lump protruding about three inches from her forehead. Scooping her up, I ran to my new neighbor's house, who just happens to be a nurse (thank you God), leaving Braedyn on the kitchen counter in his bouncer, but her son told me she was in Jamaica. Plan B: I remembered Mom pointing out the emergency care clinic down the road and saying how she was always superstitious about finding the nearest clinic whenever she moved. I put both babies in the car, grabbed our new insurance cards that we had only received the day before, and called Allen en route. I ran into the med clinic only for the nurse to tell me they stopped taking patients 30 minutes before, but she would definitely suggest I take Brookelyn to the hospital--thanks for the help!! So, I load everyone back in the car and call Allen again, who has asked some random lady on the DART where the nearest hospital was. Taking her directions I start driving toward where we think the hospital is and it comes a torrential downpour. I can barely see where I am going and am driving 20 mph. I find the street I am supposed to turn on and continue to drive into NOWHERE! I am driving through water that is easily three feet deep and coming to farms and pasture. So, I call Allen hysterical and say words that I won't repeat, explaining that we need to be at the hospital NOW. He told me to stop at a gas station and ask--not exactly what I wanted to hear. I drive back toward civilization, call 411 and finally get connected to the nearest hospital. The nice lady on the other end explains she just got off the phone with Allen and gave me directions. Needless to say, 2 hours after the accident we were seen by the doctor. Brookelyn should be fine (the picture really makes it look much better than it truly is) and is just supposed to stay way from the playground, or any "high risk" situations as the doctor put it--doesn't he realize walking in a straight line is hazardous for Brookelyn?!