Two Days Of School, Two Broken Bones, And Two Wishes

The first day back to school means a fresh start, sharp pencils, and the promise of leaves crunching underfoot in current 80 degree weather. It’s saying goodbye to last year and to babies who are no longer babies. It’s happiness, and grief for moments gone by. It’s  wondering whether summer vacation was memorable enough.

The first day of school means posing on the front porch and having your mom share your photos on Facebook, asking which expression is more closely matched to inside feelings.

Two Days Of School

With only two days of school under his belt, Tucker broke both bones in his lower arm in a bicycle accident. It wasn’t even an epic crash involving wolves, Vikings, or steep mountains.

It was a slow-motion, “need to scratch my head and adjust my helmet” fall. He’s fairly new to cycling, and still finding his way with adjusting gears and feet, and adjusting to too-quickly growing limbs and life, and he simply turned too far one way to correct himself.

The minute he landed, he said “I broke my arm!” and then thought he was going to vomit. “It’s probably okay,” I said, not thinking it was broken. It wasn’t swollen. I gave him an ice pack, and at about 1:00am, I was pretty sure he was right and I was wrong.

Two Broken Bones

He couldn’t sleep, and I wrapped his arm and hand with an Ace bandage, and tickled his back until he went back to sleep. At the E.R. the next morning, the doctor said “He broke two bones in his arm.” I was shocked, but not shocked.

You know that feeling in your gut that tells yourself what a dumb-dumb you are? I owned that. I own it still, but hope to forget, just enough to not go down the rabbit hole at 3:00 a.m. Again, anyway.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!” I said.
“I told you,” Tucker replied.
“Don’t worry – you don’t win the worst mom award for this one,” the doctor said. “My mom did the same thing when I was a kid.”
“It wasn’t even swollen!”
“I told you,” Tucker said. “Can you believe it?”
“I’m sorry,” I replied.

I felt terrible about it. I still do.

He’s now in a heavy, can’t-bend-his-elbow temporary splint cast thing with a sling, because, heavy. Last night, I ended up taking him to see Fast and Furious even though I thought I’d wait another year or two to introduce him to those movies (I haven’t seen one before, but figured the violence can’t be worse than Avengers violence – it wasn’t).

We were told to see a Pediatric Orthopedic specialist right away, and given one to call first thing today. I had him get ready for school “just in case” but should’ve known, from when I broke my hand before Black Friday (and had to learn one-handed skills with a cast) that “first thing” is never first thing when it comes to doctors, insurance, approvals, and referrals.

I spent much of today calling back and forth, worried his bone (partially “offset”) is healing crooked. Not knowing is so much worry, isn’t it? Well, being a mom is worry. Being a special needs mom, is more worry, even when you feel like you’re past most of the issues that used to keep you up at night.

He ended up going to school, although late, and will miss some or all of his fourth day, tomorrow, for the ortho appointment.

Two Wishes

Moments in which we think “oh-please-oh-please help me to hold this memory” are often later blurry. I want to remember these wishes later, while tonight, they’re so prevalent.

I wish Tucker won’t need surgery for broken bones.

I wish he gets a lighter-weight cast that’ll be more easily manipulated during his healing.

I wish love and light on all of the children being held without their parents because I know having a broken arm and mom taking them to the ER is so much better than what they’re going through. I also know it’s unfair to dismiss our own issues because “others have it worse.” Both exist. Both, and.

Okay, that was three wishes, and I have 1,002 more, but these three suffice for tonight, while my kiddo is manipulating life with a crappy, heavy cast. It can be so much worse, always.

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This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday (er… Monday???) post, with the prompt of “Back to School.” If it weren’t for the amazingly lovely Tamara, who had already written, I’m not sure I’d have posted this week at all. Thanks, my friend. Thanks, to all of you, always. You matter, in whatever existence you’re experiencing tonight.