Yesterday, David and I headed to the orthopedist for another appointment. The plan was to get a smaller cast. ....But, once we got there, we had a slight change of plans!
WARNING! This story is NOT for the faint of heart! :)
David was taken for x-rays, as I was ushered to wait in the treatment room. David, the nurse, and doctor came in shortly after, and the nurse began to cut away the "huge contraption" that had encased David's arm since surgery. I asked the doctor about the pins...were they the ones that would come out or stay in....oh, they will come out. And then the arm was revealed. A little arm that has been wrapped since July 2nd, and has two little "knobs" sticking out of it, about an inch above the wrist. MOM , (me, of course), is not prepared for this, DAVID is not prepared for this, and both of us look at his arm at the same time. Not a wise move, for two that get quesy very easily!
David turns pale as cotton, and starts chanting, I'm going to be sick, I'm going to be sick.... Mom is not doing well either, but trying to be strong for her little man! And the nurse doesn't acknowledge that we need a pan or trashcan, now! David starts gagging, as I frantically tell the nurse, he will be sick, ....he has a weak stomach, so she hands him a pan. The doctor begins to pull out the pins, which look like super-sized straight pins. The first one is easy, and the second one...not so easy. By this time, I am starting to get flush, and praying, "Dear God, please let me be strong, don't let me pass out or get sick!" David has to be layed back, not fairing so well! I go to stand on the other side of him. I won't be able to see what the doctor is doing on that side, I'll be better there. Not so! I'm trying to focus on David's face, as I brush the sweaty locks from his forehead, and breath....deeply...and pray. And then I get a flush, hot, sweaty feeling, and my knees start to weaken, and I think that I am surely going to be sick, or worse, pass out. I am willing my body to cooperate! Can 't do this, can't fail my child, can't be the worst mother in the history of time....and then David and I are both sharing his pan. ....utter humiliation! The doctor in his usual soft spoken voice says, You better step out for just a minute, we've got him, he will be fine. I've been dismissed! It was so hard to walk away, I promised him I would be right back... As I ran to the nearest bathroom, I heard the same soft-spoken doctor yell to another nurse, "Millie, get in here, we need you NOW!" Okay, that does little to ease my nerves.
Fast forward to the ride home....David is reclining in the seat beside me, his arm in a brace lying across chest. His appearance still pale and pasty, and his little voice weak...and he begins to tell me that he sure hopes his arm is well by the fall. Then he can wear his motocross shirt, (finding clothes to fit over his arm has been a challenge), and ride his dirt bike. Oh no, NOT music to my ears, which prompts a lecture, David what if you get hurt again, break a leg. That will be much worse than an arm. (And have I mentioned before, this same child, busted his head in a hotel in Florida, while playing with Josh and Ashley on the luggage cart the night before we were due to Cruise....which resulted in 7 staples and a 2" scar!) I don't even want to hear of you on anything that has wheels...... David looks up with droopy eyes, and says, ...."But mom, I'm a daredevil, that's what I do!"
Oh, the Joy of Boys.......
And to think, my dear grandmother had FIVE boys in a row, like door-steps! ...Bless her heart!