April 7, 2008
broken: the update
We took Charlie to the pediatric orthopedist today, which will easily rank forever as one of my Least Favorite Parenting Moments. The doctor reset Charlie’s arm, although it is possible that “reset” is the wrong word, as it wasn’t actually SET in the first place, just wrapped up and immobilized. I had given Charlie a teaspoon of Lortab on the way out the door, because I was afraid of what might happen at the doctor, and I guess that took the edge off, sort of, because Charlie was a total trooper and held still through the whole process of unwrapping his arm and rewrapping it and manipulating the bones back into place.
I should have slugged some Lortab myself. That might have made the whole thing less traumatic for one of us at least.
The scariest moment was when the nurse took the outer layer of wrap off and we all saw that the gauze underneath was bloody. Because maybe possibly the bone actually poked THROUGH the skin on the inside of his forearm — no one is really sure. When I saw the blood, I nearly passed out. Twice.
The doctor very gently and carefully set the bones, while Charlie watched and worked to hard to keep his composure. He barely cried at all, which I find amazing. Even the X ray tech, who had seen the original films, said, “I expected to hear some screaming from that room.” The new X rays show that the bones are set properly now, which is a huge relief.
Then there is that matter of the hole in his arm.
It’s possible that the bleeding was from the fall; it’s also possible that the bone came all the way through. Charlie is taking a megadose of antibiotics, and we go back Friday for a follow up and to have the real cast on; we also have instructions to call immediately if we even THINK he has any symptoms of infection.
I’m sure he will be fine. I also don’t want to let him out of my sight.
Wade came as Charlie and I were finishing the X rays, after the unwrapping and rewrapping and setting. And of course, because I am a grown up, I saw him and started crying. Because in a crisis Wade makes plans and I cry. We work well together.
After the splint had dried, they cut it open along the sides, so that his arm can swell and not cut off the circulation. And at THAT point, Charlie started screaming, probably because the cast cutter thingy is so loud and scary and when it touched his arm, it really hurt. So that was fun for all of us.
I am tired and stressed; I don’t feel guilty, but I am a little worried completely freaked out by the idea that he might have some kind of infection. I have been staring at Charlie all afternoon, looking for any sign that things are not right. He thinks I have lost my mind. I probably have. My neighbor called today and told me that she had broken her arm in the exact same manner, including bone poking through skin and her arm was at such a crazy angle that people were staring at her in the ER, and I said, “Oh my god, I’m so glad to hear that, not that I want you to have had a worse experience, but because you seem to be JUST FINE now and I need to hear that.”
She said, “Well I don’t know about JUST FINE, but my arm is okay.” And I laughed for the first time all day.
