The first quarter of the year is always busy for the Morley family due to “Birthday season”. That magical time of year when all of my kids celebrate the fact that they are born within two weeks of each other, and I have a nervous breakdown. As the kids have gotten older, and their parties smaller, my insanity has become more manageable, which was fortuitous this year due to my children’s desire to meet our medical deductible before March 31st.
I was cooking Lucy’s birthday dinner — steak, macaroni & cheese, and broccoli when Harper started crying. She screamed the way only a three year old can – which means at the top of her lungs making no audible sense what so ever. It went something like this, “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I HUWT MY AWWWWWMMMM!!!! MOOOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYY!!! I HUWT MY AWM!!!!” Like any good mother of three children I ignored her. After all, I had $20 worth of steak cooking. It was only when she wouldn’t stop crying that I looked around to see her right arm limp by the side of her body.
Where most parents would immediately panic at this sight, I did not. A seasoned parent knows the sign of “nurse maid’s elbow” when she sees it, and David had already fixed this once before with the guidance of a You Tube video. (Yes, we practice medicine via You Tube. Don’t judge). I shouted to David to come “pop it back into place, because I’m putting dinner on the table”. David scooped Harper up and brought her back to her bedroom where he could calm her down and fix the arm. I plated dinner and realized that she was still crying. I finally became concerned. I left the two older kids and David to enjoy Lucy’s birthday dinner and Harper and I made a dash to the ER.
Four x-rays, a red Popsicle and a hairline fracture later and we were ready to go back home.
Thirty days later I would receive a call from the school that Max had taken a “tumble” during recess and that the school nurse thought he should go home. When I arrived at the school, Max’s hand was swelled up like a giant meat patty and his fingers were purple. I couldn’t see his arm due to the heavy University of Michigan sweatshirt he was wearing (compliments of Grandma and Grandpa). He was in obvious pain and I couldn’t figure out if he was going to throw up or pass out.
When they cut off his brand new sweatshirt at the ER it was obvious to everybody in the room (and my sensitive stomach) that his arm was broken. In fact I didn’t know an arm could bend in that direction – oh, that is right, THEY DON’T!
The orthopedic surgeon walked into the room, took one look at me and said, “Didn’t I just see you a couple of weeks ago?” Oh these doctors, so funny when it comes to multiple children in one house having broken bones. Can we all say CPS together?
Two x-rays, two orthopedic surgeons, seven hours in the ER and two re-set forearm bones and we were ready to go back home.
author‘s note: A big THANK YOU to Children’s Medical Center of Plano, Texas. The doctors, nurses and staff have been WONDERFUL. Their patience, love and understanding was invaluable to me during an incredibly stressful month.