The initial excitement of having his first broken bone has worn off for my son. He needs help taking his shirt off and putting pajamas or other tops on. He can’t put his seatbelt on himself. The cast above the elbow, locking it in a ninety degree angle, is unwieldy and adds pressure on his arm because he doesn’t want to wear the over the shoulder, around the neck sling. And the cast itches just inside a location he can’t get to with his finger no matter how hard he tries.
He’s realizing now that seven weeks is going to be a long time. We think it’s going to be seven weeks, we’re not altogether sure yet. Yesterday the doctor told us it would be one week in the temporary cast while the swelling goes down and then six weeks in the permanent cast. We’ll find out more in a week on total duration, but my son isn’t happy.
He also doesn’t want people to know how he broke his arm. Technically, he was doing something at Parkour camp he shouldn’t have been. I’m not sure if it was that he shouldn’t be doing that thing at that time, or he shouldn’t have been doing it at all. Perhaps my son realizes he made a poor choice and got hurt as a result. He’s embarrassed about it. He really shouldn’t be; he could have done something to hurt himself at any point in time and broken a bone.
I tried to talk to him in the car on the way to lunch about it. He says he wants to tell people, “it’s none of your business” if they ask how he broke his arm. I told him broken bones are sort of fun in that they’re the only injury other people get to participate in—by signing the cast. That in a way, having a broken bone is sort of cool. Sometimes, you even got out of doing certain activities because you couldn’t with the cast on.
But he was having none of it. He’s upset as of today and just wants his unbroken arm back. He’s not in any real discomfort now that the bone has been isolated from moving, but that doesn’t make his pride hurt any less.
The Big Boy Update: Edna has cleaned our house for many years and I consider her a close family friend. My son has known her ever since he was a baby but he doesn’t interact with her that much, although she is very kind to him, what with having both children and grandchildren and knowing just how to talk to a young boy. She told me today last ween when my son saw her, after we’d been away for a month, he said, “Edna is here! Oh, Edna, I missed you so much. I haven’t seen you in a long time.” He went into the laundry room and gave her a hug. She was very touched by my son’s unexpected words and affection.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter loves playing Hangman. She does a verbal version in which there really isn’t a way to lose, you just keep going until you figure out the word. She loves coming up with good words. In the tub the other night she asked me to write down some words she had come up with for future use in Hangman (apparently not against me). She had a pretty good list including: insect, finger, xylophone, cymbal, symbol, lotion, myth, snorkeling, towel, koala, toilet, and gambling.
Walking the Hot Dog: Margaret and I went for a brisk walk in the park yesterday. I was trying to figure out how far we could go before having to turn around to make it back in time for dinner when my dog nosed up against the leg she had been heeling on in a different than normal way. We had kept her hydrated at the over two miles so far and it was hot but it wasn’t bad in the shaded woods. I suddenly realized she might not have the stamina to go double the distance we’d walked and I got very worried because she had to make it home. I also worried that the gravel was hurting her feet. I had been trying to keep her on more of the smooth surfaces of the trail, but there were rocky bits. We turned around and doused her in cool water from the fountain pulling water from under ground not far back. She made it home and I think was completely fine, including her pads. She enjoyed the walk and did a very nice job of heeling and dropping into a down whenever fast bicycles came by, staying safe the entire time even though she got tired.
No comments:
Post a Comment