If you’re friends with me on Facebook or follow me on Twitter, you know that Elizabeth fractured her elbow two weeks ago. She was playing soccer in my mom’s backyard, and she went to, apparently, kick the ball with a savage fierceness previously unknown to her brother and two cousins, when she kicked and lost her footing, falling down with a mighty thud and crack, right on her right elbow. I wasn’t there when it happened, but as my mom said, the cry was just different this time. With Elizabeth (especially with Elizabeth), if the cry is more tears and less hysterics and babbling, you know something is seriously wrong.
We called the doctor’s office right away, and they had an appointment for us within 20 minutes, which just happens to be how far away the office. One simple explanation, and were hightailing it over to the Women’s Imaging where they could take a peek at her creaky little elbow. After heading back to the doctor’s office, and a mere 90 minutes after falling at my mom’s house, we were on our way home, Elizabeth now sporting a purple cast. Thankfully she’s left-handed and this was her right elbow. I shudder to think of the horror this would have been with her primary hand.
Elizabeth is the first one of my kiddos to break something. Andrew had his stitches when he was two that sliced his ear open (he was stitched up by a midget doctor… that whole situation is insane, and if I was the type that imbibed, I’d have said I was extremely inebriated), but no one’s broken a bone. My niece had surgery and wore braces and casts. But I didn’t get to partake in the pure joy it is to have a 7-year-old in a cast. Oh, the whining. The itching. The irritation. The first days were the hardest. We’re now right at week two, with just a week to go (please, please, please let that sucker be healed and not need another three weeks!), and it’s not as bad as it was, except for the bathing situation, which is fraught with me being super worried about getting that sucker wet and stinking. But the first days, like I said, were torture for her protestations of feeling hot with it on and feeling that devil of an itch that no chopstick could navigate.
Next Friday can’t come fast enough. Not only do I hope my kids don’t break bones for their own well being, but I’d prefer they don’t break any for my sanity.