Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Broken arm

I will never again complain about not having a topic to chat about in my upcoming columns.
Because last Tuesday, only a few hours after I told Charlie I had nothing to write about, a column fell into my lap.
Well, it actually fell out of my son’s bed and landed us in the emergency room for a few hours.
Thankfully, we finished up the Back-to-School edition early, which NEVER happens, and my house was clean and the laundry folded and put away.
I was so ahead last Tuesday night, I indulged myself and stayed up way too late doing nothing worth the lack of sleep.
As soon as I forced my lamp off, I heard a thud upstairs. Not an alarming sound at my house.
After moseying upstairs to investigate, I found Rylan disoriented and crying in the girls’ room. Didn’t really seem out of the ordinary, so I put him back to bed and tried to soothe his crying.
You parents out there know sometimes when kids wake up when they are extra tired, they just cry, at least mine sometimes do.
I headed back downstairs to finish out the few hours of sleep left in the night.
But Rylan just wouldn’t stop crying. Then it turned to more of a wail. (This did not go on very long. We aren’t THAT mean.)
Matt decided to see what was happening and brought Rylan downstairs so we could calm him down.
At this point, it was obvious something was wrong.
He wouldn’t move his right arm and it was just laying on our bed like a limp noodle.
Pause for some background: I have a tendency to pass out at inconvenient times like medical emergencies. Just the talk alone of medical stuff can make me teeter on the brink of consciousness. Another note: this REALLY annoys Matt.
And, of course, with the broken arm chatter, I began to feel the fade.
I told Matt I was going down.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
By this age, I am an old passer-outer pro and I knew exactly how to handle it.
I slid off the bed and laid on the floor. A few seconds later I felt up to crawling to the phone and called my parents for back up.
Yes, you can laugh. Matt makes merciless fun of me (after the fact).
After I made contact with my folks and faded in and out of consciousness for a few more minutes, I crawled to the kitchen for something to snap me back into reality.
In no time, we were off to the E.R., where we found out Rylan had a “Greenstick break” in his forearm. They casted him up and we were on our way home in record time.
I couldn’t believe how well he did. Once he woke up and the ibuprofen kicked in, he was chatting it up and was in a pretty good mood.
Life around the farm has been pretty interesting since the broken arm.
Rylan has had to teach himself how to play the Wii, eat (yes, in that order), bathe and all the rest.
We go Thursday for his permanent (six-week) cast and he is going to pick Mt’neer green (if he can choose) because football season will be under way soon and he wants to represent.
Poor Rylan. It seems he is going to be “that” child in our family.
He has rode in an ambulance, been hospitalized, had staples, has had an allergic reaction to antibiotics, will soon have braces and now has the family’s first broken bone.
Even though he will start kindergarten in a cast and his summer swimming days have ended early, he is in pretty good spirits about it all.
After all, like he told his nurses, he is “as tough as a snake.”

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