Where to start? Kid #2 tripped and fell last week (ten days ago) at school. When she got into the car, she was holding her left arm and grimacing. A query about her wellbeing led to a discussion about how much pain she was in. It wasn’t enough to skip lunch, so I thought she’d be fine.
An hour later, she was practically in tears and I took her to the Urgent Care clinic.
They examined her, took x-rays, and declared her arm unbroken. They gave her a sling and a prescription for Vicodin and sent us on our way.
Four days later, the Physician’s Assistant called to say that whoops, it turns out kid #2 has a fracture and needs to see an orthopedic specialist. “We’re just an Urgent Care, we don’t do casts.”
Are you effing kidding me? Do you know how long it takes to get an appointment with a specialist?
Well, I do. So I called her pediatrician (yeah, #2 is 18, but I haven’t switched her from a pediatrician to a G.P. yet). The earliest a lowly mom could get into the “fracture clinic” was a week; the pediatrician got us in two days later.
Friday afternoon we arrived at Children’s Hospital and in very short order were told that her fracture required not just a cast (I had been hoping for a removable Velcro contraption) but a full shoulder to fingertips cast. Imagine the joy all around.
The upside is the cast only stays on for two weeks. The downside(s) include no showers, Cirque de Soleil contortions for hair washing and dressing, and parental guilt trips into (at least) my retirement. Thankfully, the cast is on her non-dominant arm.
And it’s only two weeks.