It is amazing to me how you can be going along your day (in a generally merry way) and then something happens and that same day starts spinning out of control around you. Well, that was our Friday. It seemed a normal day, a good morning. We headed for gymnastics, and I was thinking about the small list of errands to run later that day. I debated whether we should stop somewhere for lunch or just run through the errands and then head home to eat because I needed to clean the floors (among other things). A typical morning in a typical week.
Kyrie had a substitute for her gymnastics class, and Degen's class was quite small (summer vacations, I'm guessing). He was acting his usual spastic-gymnastic self! He was getting great height on the trampoline, showed some good balance on the balance beam and was literally running into his forward rolls. As is also usual, he was being ornery and I more than once had to snatch up his wriggly, giggly body to set him back on the directed activity.
We headed towards our third rotation at the 'cheese pit,' and I was delighted to see him complete a 'bear walk' for the first time (walking with hands & feet on the parallel bars). However, we were near the preschool gym, which he loves and his attention for the current activity was waning. He climbed on top of one of the giant 'marshmallow' blocks and was playing with a set of rings. He playfully ran across the block when I tried to get him to come down. Feeling just as playful, I scooped him up in my arms and cradled him baby-like to me while gently admonishing his silliness. Then with a kiss, I tossed him onto the 'marshmallow' pad we were standing on (as I had done several times in the past). He landed, and the smile he had on his face in the air changed to a grimace and a cry.
Now, if you are acquainted with two year olds, you will know that this instant transformation from happy to sad is pretty common. I cannot count the number of times that Degen's laughter has turned to Degen's screams over something as simple as his sister clapping at the end of a cartoon in the car (don't ask me why, but he gets very angry when she does this). I walked right over and picked him up, thinking that he was only upset that I had done something that he didn't initiate. I held him close and reminded him that he was 'just fine,' but quickly realized that his angry cries seemed more than angry and that he wasn't calming down.
There, right there, that second was the second that we all know: when the dread floods our hearts and the only questions that our brains can hold are "What just happened? What did I do? What did I do?" I looked at his arm, and I just knew. Literally, less than one minute from toss to hold (I know that you are already disbelieving that I could know), but I looked at his forearm and it just looked funny to me. I remember thinking that it looked floppy and swollen and just, well, broken. I took 2 steps to where his coach was helping another child with their bear walk and said, trying not to let the panick overtake me, "Coach Amy, I think he just broke his arm." And then, we were running. Looking back, I realize that this was in no way a life-threatening emergency, but there is something about clutching a child who is screaming in pain and the realization that their body is broken that makes you want to rush and race and run. We ran to the ice machine where she gave me a bag of ice (which there was no way that Degen would let me hold on his arm) and then she ran to get Kyrie and our things.
Feeling the panic rising in me, I did what I always do when I panic and tried to call Darren, he would know what to do. But my cell phone had no reception in the gym. At the front desk, I asked to use the phone and quickly told them what happened in an effort to explain my barely controlled panic. They were immediately concerned and asked if I wanted them to call me an ambulance. Panic or no panic, I told them that I could drive us to the hospital (after all, it wouldn't be the first time I had driven with a screaming child in the back seat).
My mind was already racing as to where we would go, visions of our 'home' hospital where I had given birth to both kids were immediately on my mind, but they reminded me of the nearby hospital that we passed every time we came to the gym. I was headed there. In the car, Degen's screams were even louder. I tried to call Darren and left another message. I feared he was in a meeting, the all-day kind he often talked about at dinner. I tried to call others, needing a calm voice with whom I could share my panic. No answers. And then there was the hospital and I missed the turn and then finally we were parked and walking in.
The ER was empty, and I was grateful. I told the nurse why we were there and then we sat. Pitifully, Degen cried to be nursed and I could not refuse him. As soon as he latched on, he was peaceful. His eyes fluttered closed as I stroked his hair. We waited less than 5 minutes, and I consider it a blessing that in those 5 minutes before being whisked to our room where I once again had no cell reception Darren called. As always, the calm to my panic he assured me that the fault was not mine and said he was on his way. I cannot even describe the love that I had for that man at that moment. It is one thing to call your husband and say that you damaged the car or clogged the sink, it is an entirely other thing to call and tell him that you have damaged his child.
Now, I have to interject here that though at this time my thoughts & emotions were wrapped around the part that I played in Degen's injury, I do realize that it was an accident and that I am not 'guilty' of anything. I don't blame myself or think I'm a horrible mom, but I also cannot deny that I am responsible. Not guilty or at fault, but responsible. I feel bad the way any parent feels bad when their child is hurt under their watch. And trust me, when faced with the question, "What happened?" No parent wants to have to say the words, "I threw my child." Yes, it sounds a tad less harsh when you add phrases like, "at gymnastics" "playfully tossed" and "onto a giant, foam pad," but those words do not entirely negate those 4 little words you must honestly speak at the start. I am eternally grateful that this injury happened in the gym with at least a hundred people around because at that point, having someone question the innocence of the situation probably would have been my emotional undoing.
Back to our room in the ER, where I was nursing Degen again (he howled pitifully when I stopped to carry him back to the room) and nurses started to collect information. Someone handed Kyrie (who was absolutely the best behaved child you could possibly imagine) an old book & stuffed animal and placed another stuffed animal on the bed for Degen. After the initial info was collected and all had retreated, Kyrie asked, "Mom, what are these?" I explained that the nurses were trying to make her comfortable by giving her these things to look at while we waited. "Oh," she replied, and dutifully turned the pages in the book.
Degen was weighed, and then I was told that I should stop nursing him because they didn't know if they would need to do procedures that required an empty stomach. He fussed when I cradled him to my shoulder, but he was exhausted and did not move as the Nurse Practitioner examined him and seemed pleased when Degen did not yowl with pain. For one small moment, I thought that maybe it was not so bad, maybe it wasn't broken. Then everyone left the room again, and he screamed and cried with pain, and I cried, too.
A few minutes later, we were walked to radiology and a nurse mercifully gave me a syringe of Ibuprofen for Degen. In the radiology room, the world spun out-of-control again. Too many times in my life have I had to hold down my panicked & screaming children for medical procedures, and every time it is like a piece of my heart is being torn from my body. The radiologist struggled to hold Degen's arm steady for the x-ray. Fighting against every parental instinct I have, I, too, applied my firm hands to his shoulder or his fingers trying to still their movement and ignore the frightful, panicked screams of Degen on my lap. Each time the radiologist moved Degen's arm, twisting or turning it to capture every necessary angle my stomach rolled, my heart ached and I silently cried out, "what are you doing? you can't do that. his arm is broken."
Finally, they had the x-rays they needed, and the kindhearted radiology nurse walked us back to our room. She cheerfully chatted with Kyrie and when we reached the room she gave me a long, tight, reassuring hug. Tears filled my eyes and I mumbled something to her and she gave me another hug before leaving the room. I found the TV remote and put on a cartoon. I swayed with Degen on my shoulder until his body grew heavy with sleep. Someone from the hospital came to collect our information and then Darren was there. He stroked Degen's sleeping head and held me briefly while I cried into his shirtfront. We answered questions, and I caught Darren up on what had happened thus far. His calm and reassuring strength stabilized the world and my emotions.
The NP returned with the x-ray results. The arm was indeed broken, both bones in the forearm showed tiny cracks at their edges. With such tiny cracks, I am uncertain of how I knew with such certainty that the arm was broken: mother's intuition, I guess. The NP talked with us about how the arm would be splinted and then within the week we would need to make an appointnment with an orthopedist to have a cast applied. Two ER paramedics splinted the arm while Degen slept. Our visit to the ER was wrapping up. We were given instructions, asked our questions, Darren requested a copy of the x-rays (something I never would have thought to ask for, but we need for our orthopedic visit), Degen woke up and we headed into the bright sunshine that waited outside the ER's doors.
In the car, Degen was out-of-sorts with his "robot arm" as I started to call it, but he was happy with some stickers and a juice box. At home, he didn't want to be babied, so I let him be. Sadly, I realized that our summer would not be ending the way I had planned: no swim lessons, no gymnastics for Degen, uncertainty about play dates to splash pads and playgrounds.
It's been a few days now, and Degen is doing really well. Our vows to keep him inside and calm went out the window the same day as the break. He wants to be with Kyrie going up & down the stairs and running outside, and his robot arm does very little to slow him down. Any attempts to reign him in are met with tears and screams of protest. I am good to keep him dosed with Ibuprofen or Tylenol, not wanting the pain to get ahead of him.
His arm is supposed to stay dry and we talked about keeping him out of the bath entirely, but for a child who is used to taking two and three baths a day that resolve did not last long either. Our first bath with a bagged arm did not go very well (too thin, newspaper bags), but the second (with a sturdier bread bag) kept the arm dry. I was unable to find a child's sling at CVS to help him handle the weight of the splint, but was able to fashion a sling using an ace bandage that worked well enough. Our appointment to the orthopedist is set for Tuesday afternoon.
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