August 24 of this year found us on a truly intimate tour of Robert's new working environment.
The secretary at the school phoned and informed me that my kid had been involved in an accident on the playground and his arm was bothering him.
I happened to be driving by the school at that moment and pulled right in. Thank goodness we finally bought cell phones last year! When he showed me his arm, it was clearly broken. It looked as though his entire elbow had shifted out of place under his skin.
The wait in the E.R. was virtually nonexistent. We were not even permitted to sit down in the waiting room. As we entered, an employee ushered us directly into the back with a sympathetic smile. Once we made it into our room, my child didn't even have to leave for his X-Rays. The technician brought the machine to him, which was lucky because he was in so much pain I don't know if I could have handled watching him be wheeled from room to room. It was the kind of pain where I would have tolerated all kinds of whining and whimpering. There was none of that, though, simply the request from behind his closed eyes for his mother to sing to him. (And I know what you're thinking, especially if you've ever watched me sing with the kids during primary. My only explanation for him making that request at that time is maybe there is something in sharing a genetic code that wires a kid to find the sound of his mother's voice soothing~no matter what she sounds like when she sings. I don't care, I'll take it!)
He was much happier after the surgery and the bone was set & splinted. Two pins were placed in his humerus just above the elbow in the growth plates. He's worried about the growth plate factor because he thinks his arms are already scrawny enough.
Today he visited the surgeon's office to remove the splint and get the cast. Look at that pin sticking out of his arm!
This weekend as he related the story of how he broke his arm to his Great -Uncles (Robert's dad's brothers) he said that one girl in his class thought he had over-reacted to his injury. His response was "I think I under-reacted. I didn't even cry!"
Is it ironic that the year I sign him up to play tackle football he trips on the school playground playing basketball and is out for the whole season before the first game but after all the conditioning practices?
After the Alanis Morissette song, I'm not at all certain about the definition of irony.
4 comments:
It's always nice to hear a complement to the ER (instead of the usual gripes). And so glad your Tough Guy is healing nicely!
As a veteran of broken arms, I can tell you -- I CRIED A LOT. You have one tough kid there, mama.
Amy and Christie, I agree. He is Very Tough. (Though he did cry a little. We are just not telling him that.)
Ouch! He's a trooper, for sure! (btw, is Robert an ER doc? I knew he was in medicine, but I never knew what he specializes in. Bryan's big sister is an ER doc, and she has some crazy stories!)
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