January has been a standout month for my family, medically anyway. This is an account of our latest adventure.
While calmly working on my Etsy shop, stinkR, inside the house, nice and cozy, the air was suddenly split by a blood-curdling scream from outside. I knew the kids were running down to a neighbor's house to deliver a get well card, but I didn't know there was a large group of them and they were running in a herd as if being chased by a T-Rex. Mr. M was in the middle of the pack.
He is not fast, nor is he as old as the other kids around him, and someone accidentally (I keep repeating that word to myself) tripped him. He fell full force on his hands and later told me he felt his pinkie finger bend all the way back. Hence, the scream.
Like any good mother, I froze, waiting to see if the screaming would stop before I had to do anything. It did, but only because he went into that silent scream mode. You know, like that painting? My older son raced in and got me. I looked at M's hand and there were no outward injuries. But he kept crying, unusual for him. He is quick to cry and quick to stop, especially when there is playing to be done. He was not interested in doing anything. We kept icing it on and off and decided to give it until morning to see how it looked. He was subdued and slept through the night.
Well, when he woke yesterday morning, the first thing I noticed was he totally favored the hand, like kept it close to his body and wouldn't move it. I took a closer look and WOW. He had a huge cartoon hand that was turning blue in places! We immediately headed to urgent care.
A few x-rays later and we had the diagnosis. He has what is known as a Boxer's Fracture. We watch UFC and MMA fights so he's familiar with these guys and how this fracture can happen. I think he felt a little better. The problem is that the fracture is ugly, not clean. The bone is off to the side, not on top of itself. He may need surgery to have a pin inserted and get the finger growing straight. He has a soft cast until Monday when we see the hand specialist. Oh, man. Almost a week to wait.
This is my youngest son. He already has a surgery scheduled for next Wednesday to correct a, ahem, personal boy issue, and I was struggling to handle that. A child going in for surgery? Under anesthesia? With probing and cutting? Not a mother's best day. Add this whole finger-pin-insertion thing and I am feeling like I'm on the edge of insanity for real.
If you think of him, please pray. He's a trooper. He is utterly brokenhearted about missing the baseball season, which is just starting. He cried more about that than anything else.
Did I mention that my van wouldn't start when we were leaving the hospital? Yeah, it wouldn't. I sat for an hour repeatedly trying to start, waiting for my husband to come from work an hour away. I knew it wasn't the battery. We have a finicky starter. I just could not believe that I had to deal with that, too. But it finally started and I raced home.
I won't describe the rest of my day, but at one point, I knew it was over and I took a 2-hour nap. I had to check out for a while, you know? I woke up, spent some quality time on Etsy, DH made dinner, and then I went to bed and slept soundly. I have declared today Yarn Therapy day. I am going to knit and not look up. Except to take care of Mr. M, of course.