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Home > Blogs > Adventures in Motherhood > Archives > 2009 > January > 16 > Entry
Has your child broken a bone?
Alternate title: “Family On The Go Momentarily Loses Touch With Reality”
I’ll preface this blog entry with the fact that Hubby and I made it through 13 years of parenting without one trip to the emergency room for a broken bone, stitches or a raisin up the nose.
It was that “13 years and 2 weeks” that killed us.
Last Saturday morning, during her first basketball game of the season, my 10-year-old daughter started cradling her hand like a bird might tuck an injured wing. To the parents around me, I remarked, “Look, she must have stoved her finger.”
Gross Club Alert: This portion only for those with strong stomachs (basically, all parents and most people with siblings or pets, or those who enjoy medical shows or IFC movies).
A few minutes later, my daughter started staggering to the sideline in a daze. It was like watching an auto accident in slow motion, or a mouse hopped up on Decon. Then — up came the chuck, right onto the court. “Oh, no,” was all I could get out, then I scooted over to escort her out of the gym. (Hubby stayed behind to help mop up.)
She vomited again in the hallway, then I finally got her into the bathroom, wiped away the chunks, and helped splash some cold water on her face.
OK, Wimps: You can start reading again.
At that point I wasn’t thinking that she’d broken anything. Running through my mind: “Was the milk spoiled at breakfast?” “Has that virus that’s been going around town gotten to us?” “Was she just nervous for her first game?”
I asked her about her hand, which she seemed to have forgotten about in the confusion of the moment. As I ran cold water over it, she said a ball had jammed the pinkie of her right hand and that it hurt — BAD. I tried to think back to my long-ago days on the basketball court. Yes, stoved fingers really hurt. So, that’s what I went with.
We were due at older son’s wrestling tournament up at Northridge, so I cleaned her up, iced her down and off we flew. In the van on the way to the tourney, we gave her a Tylenol (which Hubby later caught h-e-double-toothpick for from the doctor), and she didn’t complain much, honest.
Twenty minutes later, we hustled her into the gym — 3-year-old and his 50-pound backpack also in tow — just in time to see Son No. 1 win his first match of the day.
Adrenaline still pumping from the excitement of the match (I tend to be a screamer), we called our grappler into the stands for some fist bumps and to tell him that his sister had hurt her hand during her game. Hubby asked her if she could move it. She tried, and squealed with pain. Then her tears started rolling.
Big brother, always the realist among us, shouted, “Don’t be sitting here watching ME! Get her to the HOSPITAL. NOW!”
Hubby and I looked at each other with wide eyes, exchanging a look that said: “Duh! Why didn’t we think of that?”
Just about then, another, more seasoned wrestling mom came down to inspect The Finger, which by then had started turning deep purple and midnight blue at the base. Veteran Mom nodded her head slowly, knowingly. “You probably should go have it checked,” she said with reserved restraint. (When what she really meant was, “DUH!”)
Then we sprang into (delayed) action. I scrambled for my wallet, shoved her insurance card at Hubby, and away they went to Dayton Children’s Medical Center, leaving me in the stands with the antsy toddler and spotty cell phone reception, awaiting the next match and an update from the hospital.
Less than two hours later, my daughter was once again by my side in the stands. But this time, she was sporting a splint on her pinkie like a badge of honor.
In the days that have followed, she’s been rather stoic, even went to basketball practice on Tuesday and caught the ball with her left hand (which is not natural for her). Facebook friends poured on the sympathy.
She did ask for ibuprofen on occasion, but she also seemed to enjoy the strangeness of it all, like showering with a giant Ziploc and rubber band around her hand, and wearing a knit cap like a glove on her way to school. (I’ll take credit for that brilliant idea!)
But, alas, a winter storm struck on Wednesday, and she couldn’t resist playing in the snow.
She slipped on the ice, and because she couldn’t catch herself with her right hand, she landed with a bang, right on her tailbone. OUCH!
So now, we’re headed to the X-ray room again. Poor girl. Now that it’s started, will it ever end?
Permalink | Comments (5) | Post your comment | Categories: Funny stories, Mommy confessions
Comments
By Lisa
January 22, 2009 11:18 AM | Link to this
Oh, dear. Even though I already knew her story, reading it just now, I’m gripping my hand to my mouth, my abs are tensed…oh, poor thing! Wow. That’s a lot of calamity for one week. Let’s hope the rest of 2009 is injury free for her!
By ccbiggs
January 20, 2009 1:59 PM | Link to this
please tell me what was a 10 year old trying to do—DUNK. I really hope so—otherwise if not trying to dunk what was she doing—behind the back pass. Keep it up Jean—u will surpass your DAD in no time at all.
By Lea
January 20, 2009 9:03 AM | Link to this
I’ve got a stepdaughter who swears she’s got a broken bone every time she bumps her hand so I don’t react 99% of the time. She had a “hairline fracture” of the forearm 2 years ago that required a cast according to her mother but the ER at Children’s wasn’t too keen on it. They put it on to shut her up. So what kind of painkillers CAN we give kids now? I’m sure ice might cause frostbite.
By ana
January 18, 2009 4:39 PM | Link to this
This is only funny because I now know she’s OK. It’s a funny feeling when your children make you realize what you should have known all along. Good call from child #1! My child #1 once fell and hit her head and instantly “up came the chuck,” as you put it. That was a little more obvious of a cause and effect relationship. Oh, and I didn’t know tylenol was now blacklisted, too!??! Soon we’ll all have to resort to whiskey, like our grandmas did, or was that just my grandma? ana
By jkj
January 16, 2009 6:21 PM | Link to this
Oh the first broken bone of parenthood. Welcome to the club…glad that your daughter seems to be ok. Tailbone injuries can be extremely painful though…and there’s no sling or splint or cast for that particular part of the body. Ouch. I’m a mom of 2 boys. They played about every sport there was. My youngest is the one that spent much time in the ER with many broken bones. The ortho doc knew him well. That’s not a good thing. LOL!! Hang in there…you’ll get through this.