Broken Wing

Our baby bird, chirpy and sweet with mouth always open wide for a cracker or whatever mommy is eating, has a broken arm. Joel endured more than 24 hours of parental cluelessness before his broken arm was diagnosed.

On Thursday I noticed that whenever he took a tumble, he would either refuse to stand back up, or only use his right arm. He was uncharacteristically fussy and clingy. We examined his arm and it looked okay. He would have flashes of happy playfulness, though. We were confused. There was no obvious moment of trauma or bad injury. There were no spectacular falls. He is a rough and tumble kiddo who enjoys a good climb and freaking out mommy. But there was no one bonk or boom that stood out from the others as arm-breaking.

Friday morning he woke up quite cranky, again. I called the pediatrician and left a message with the triage nurse. She decided that due to his age he needed to be seen. I thought that would best, too. The physician’s assistant pressed his arm in various spots. His anger was piqued when she got to his lower arm. We were sent for x-rays.

Because of my pregnancy, I knew that I couldn’t go into the x-ray lab with him. Hubby left work early and picked up Ryley at kindergarten and Sammy at preschool. They joined Tommy, Joel, and I in the jam-packed waiting room for what turned out to be an hour and a half of waiting and vending machine worship. 2 bags of Cheetos, 1 bag of Goldfish, 1 bag of pretzels, 1 bag of Skittles, and 1 Twix bar later, Joel and hubby were ushered back to the x-ray room.

The geniuses wanted the six of us to wait even longer for the results. But Joel was cranky, Sammy was wild and even turned off the hospital hallway lights when he found the switch, and Tommy and Ryley were still hungry despite their Cheeto beards. So we gave them hubby’s cell number with instructions to call us with results. I was hungry too, since the last thing I ate was an Eggo about seven hours earlier.

We were in the Red Robin parking lot when the phone rang. Joel’s arm was most definately fractured and he would need the services of a pediatric orthopedic specialist. In our city, those types are found downtown, at Children’s Hospital. They would call us with an appointment time.

Our tummies tackled our brains so we went inside. The waiter took our order and the phone rang again. The appointment was right now. Um, Mr. Waiter…that order you just took? Make it to go! That severely angered the kids, who had just gotten started on their coloring and lemonade.

I took the boys home and hubby took Joel to the hospital in case more x-rays were warranted. Several hours later they came home with a new friend–a large green cast extending from Joel’s little hand up to his little shoulder. The break was clean and should heal nicely. In the meantime, he has a large fiberglass and plaster weapon to swing around and bonk siblings with. He is having trouble with holding sippy cups, but otherwise his resilience is astounding.

He is happy, again.