Ski Patrol, Take 2
in Giggles on March 30, 2015
I know it has been a couple of days since my last post. Please allow me to explain. If you have ever been to Disney World and had the awesome chance to experience the Mad Hatter’s Spinning Tea Cup ride, that might be a good starting place for where I have spent the last several days.
So, last week I found a small knot under the right arm of my youngest son. I absolutely freaked out–on the inside–on the outside, I was like “Hmmm, how long have you had this? Does it hurt? Let’s just go get that looked at…it’s no big deal.” However, on the inside, I was screaming, THIS IS A HUGE DEAL! BIG! MONSTER-DEAL!! (So as not to keep you in suspense, he’s fine, but the story must progress). Meanwhile, my oldest son who had wiped out twice while snowboarding in the mountains of Colorado over Spring Break was still complaining of wrist pain. As I was trying to navigate through Houston traffic during morning rush hour in order to get Ellie to the pediatrician; I had my snowboarding dare-devil riding shotgun. My plan was to kill two birds with one stone, and sneak Evel Knievel into to the orthopedic while I was already in the same vicinity visiting the pediatrician.
I vaguely remember an old saying about the best laid plans going to ruin… it must be true–because that plan did not work. Apparently my kid was not the only kid who was injured over Spring Break. The family orthopedic (yes, we have a family orthopedic, but that is for another post) could not “squeeze” him in for almost a week. Are you serious? By this point, he had already been dealing with this irritating type of pain for two and half weeks. I could not wait for one more week to go by. We had to find another one…on short notice.
As we sat in the pediatrician’s office waiting for blood work to confirm the doctor’s suspicions that Ellie’s knot was nothing more than an infected lymph node, she pulled some strings and played her I’m-calling-in-a-professional-favor card, and snagged us an appointment that afternoon with a new orthopedic. Ethan was still wearing the awesomely fabulous ghetto wrist brace that he had acquired from Ski Patrol when the doctor walked in with a smile and said: “You’re one tough kid. You broke both of your arms!”
That’s when I lost my mind.
Have you ever felt the air being forcibly sucked from your lungs, while at the same time your stomach has just decided to vacate its normal resting place and take up a new residency somewhere closer to your knees? Yeah. That’s about where I found myself. I started to hyperventilate. I could not breathe. I could not say anything except, “Oh my gosh, Ethan. I am sssooooo sorry.” This was my mantra over and over and over again. I may have had a few, “I’m going to kill your father” thrown in there as well. My memories of those first few minutes are a bit hazy. Ethan was laughing. The doctor was talking. I was 100% HYSTERICAL. I was literally coming unglued. I honestly cannot think of a time, especially in recent memory, where I completely lost my composure to the extent that I did while sitting in that office. I have turned in some pretty spectacular offerings in this department.
The doctor had to stop dealing with my broken son, and come to attend to me. He offered me water, tissues, words of comfort anything he could think of to calm me down…well, anything except a large Valium. That probably would have been the only thing capable of doing the trick. He even had to send in one of his nurses to remove me from the room, take me to the bathroom, with the hopes of helping me pull my act back together. Not one of my better mothering moments.
When I came back into the room, Ethan was all smiles. He came over to hug me and comfort me and tell me it was “no big deal.” No big deal? I’m sorry–but TWO BROKEN ARMS is kind of a big deal. I must say that the staff at this doctor’s office was exceedingly kind, and completely non-judgmental! Everyone offered me reassurances that this sort of thing happens all the time. Ugh. Kids are resilient and strong…and manufactured by Rubbermaid.
All in all, no permanent damage was done…despite the fact that I made Ethan play baseball all last week. Although, thankfully he is smart enough to know that he could not swing a bat, nor field the ball. He was the pinch runner. He still managed to slide, arms first, into both first and third bases–twice–with two broken arms. Good grief.
The hubby was perplexed at this diagnosis after Ski Patrol assure him that Ethan was not broken because after all, he could move both hands. Here’s the deal with Ski Patrol: I am grateful for Ski Patrol. They pulled both of my boys off of two different mountains and attended to them during their time of need. Elliott required an entire TEAM due to the fact that he had to be back-boarded, neck braced, and given oxygen. However, as good as they are as first responders, they do not possess X-Ray vision. The fact that Ethan had nearly complete range of motion in both wrists, had virtually no swelling, and ZERO bruising, did not mean his wrists were not broken. He experienced on-going pain that was not normal for him. The bottom line is this: listen to your kids. They typically know when something is not right within their own bodies. To think, I started that day thinking it was my little one who was going to have the bigger problem! He turned out just fine, and got to miss a day of school.
Parenting is not for sissies, nor for the faint-hearted!
Here’s hoping YOUR nomination for Mother-of-the-Year is totally REJECTED!!
-Dallas
One thought on “Ski Patrol, Take 2”
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Jeff Louis says:
Love you , babe.