It just happened.



I really wish I had some amazing story about how he jumped in front of a bus to save baby ducks or he was running in a race and tripped on a kitten.

but I don't.

To be honest, I have no idea how it happened, which really didn't help my case when I felt the nurses were questioning my ankle breaking skills.

I have no ankle breaking skills.  I promise.  I truly don't know how this happened.

Although I'm hearing some things of "Riverdancing" tonight.  Perhaps this is a Riverdancing injury?

Embarrassment!

I'm sticking with the tripping over a kitten story.

The real story is that he was limping a little bit last night, I made him walk up six flights of stairs with me and then by the time he got to his bedroom he couldn't walk anymore.  At all.  I had to drag all 70 pounds of him around the apartment while he got ready for bed. I told him to go to bed and he would feel better in the morning, figuring this was just growing pains or that he twisted his ankle on the stairs or something.

In the morning he was not better and I felt I had to take him in to a doctor to get it checked out.  Figuring this was his (very smart) scheme to get out of school, I didn't worry too much about it.  He had a field trip today so I mentioned it to him thinking it would reveal his plan, which didn't work and in fact only made things worse.  I don't always make the wisest decisions.

So I dragged him down the hall and across the parking lot to the car where I hoisted his body into his seat.  When we arrived at the hospital I did the same thing all the way into the emergency department.  Thankfully it was not busy at all (until after we got there!) and we went right back.  I was asked so many times what happened, and so was Evilboy, but neither of us had any idea what happened.  Which I think raised some red flags because they asked the same question a few times in different ways.

Then we went to x-ray where I saw his cute little bones on the screen, his cute little healthy bones (or at least I thought so). When the resident came back with a doctor I knew something was up.  I mean, I sort of knew something was up when he couldn't stand on his own, but I could feel this was bad news...and my bottom lip started to tremble before they even said a word.

Then there were a blur of words "we think it's a fracture in the growth plate"  "...10 days in a cast" (me: cry) "has to use a wheelchair" ...and then I did that embarrassing cry/sob thing and immediately thought of all the things he now is not able to do.

Birthday parties (his best friend's POOL party), karate lessons, baseball, swimming lessons, Beavers, SCHOOL.  All these things are suddenly taken away.  The selfish part of me can't even think how lucky we are that he doesn't have to be in a wheelchair for his entire life.  Right now I can't see past the things that he is missing. I'm angry because I don't know what happened to my child, and of course the first thing people ask what happened to which we have to tell them it's a mystery.

I hate not knowing things and this is all new to me.  I've never broken a bone in my entire life.  I knew a girl who had a broken arm once and she was at my birthday party, that's all I really remember, other than the time she ate one of those Halloween toffee candy things and her tooth (her MOLAR!!) came out in the candy.  It was the grossest. To this day I'm afraid of my teeth falling out in sticky candy. 


I had to help them put the cast on his leg, all the way from his toes to his knee.  It was brutal.  I'm not much of a cast maker (and neither was the resident) so the cast came out wrong the first time and they had to cut it off and re-do it. This time I just watched because I really didn't like the cast cutter thingy.


and then they sent us on our way...without a wheelchair and instructions to get a wheelchair, from the Red Cross, which was right across the street.  So I went to the Red Cross, dragging a now 70-something pound kid (add a pound or two for the cast) into the building, which actually turned out to be a blood donor clinic only, the building I wanted was across the other street (argh).  I got him in to the right Red Cross and turns out they don't rent out paediatric wheelchairs.  I really wanted to punch something and then cry. Punch and cry, it's what girls do when they're beyond frustrated.

A light bulb went off.

and I went to my work.  Because I work in a physio/OT clinic (duh) and we order wheelchairs and supplies for clients all the time (DUH!!!!).  He had a shiny red wheelchair within an hour, and they even made a special cushion for him and he is lucky enough to get in to see the best paediatric physio in all of London, in my opinion anyway. 

Everything has been a challenge.  Eating, getting dressed, using the washroom, bathing, brushing teeth, going to the movies, getting in the car, getting the wheelchair in the car, getting the wheelchair out of the car, picking him up, putting him in bed, to name a few. It's all been a huge challenge and I honestly can't believe he is going through this.

He is not able to attend school because they have a lot of stairs. He can't go to Beavers for the same reason.  He can sit in his chair and watch TV, lay on the couch and fall asleep and get waited on hand and foot...which sounds like an okay deal to me.

One thing I learned to do when your kid is sporting a bulky cast, don't  put on pants if you don't have to.  They just get in the way when you need to make washroom trips. Mom's t-shirts work just fine for my little guy. 

We also learned that Super Mario pictures on your cast makes everything feel better. 

Share this:

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Hello..this is my blog. I bought this fancy theme and I don't know what to write here just yet. Maybe one day remind me I have to write something inspiring here?

0 comments:

Post a Comment