Sunday, July 24, 2011

The Arm, part 3.

Sorry for the delay. I was trying to get copies of the initial x-ray. I thought it was worth it. The gal in x-ray gasped when she pulled it up to print off. I said, "See? That's why I want a copy."

This all went pretty fast. From the time he got hurt (around 7pm, we got to the ER about 7:30 or so), things moved along steadily. George was wheeled into surgery at about 9:35. He was out and in recovery around 10:45, and then taken to his room for the night some time after 11:30.

My mom and sister-in-law managed to finish supper, got the kids packed (amazingly despite my scatterbrained directions) and brought them to my mother in law's house for the overnight. My mom brought some things up to the hospital (including CHOCOLATE, THANK YOU MOM!!!!) and after dropping off the kids, my SIL brought us supper. I was so thankful that my family was all there to help pick up the pieces, gather the kids, and get them taken care of. Every person was needed, and we felt so blessed by that. I don't know what I would have done, what I would have thought of to do, had I been alone with all the kids when this happened, as so often when stuff happens Hubs is at work. It's not a job you can just "come home" from, especially when you're 8-12 hours drive from home. The timing, the people present, the quick service, I believe that was all under God's watchful, caring hand.

While the boy was in surgery, I posted on FB (my non-Smarphone is wifi capable - yeehaw!), and the support and prayers that came in from family and friends and even people I don't know was awesome. I could feel those prayers lifting us up.

After surgery the doctor came in and explained that all was well. The orthoped said it a high velocity break, and that in 12 years, he's only seen 3 others that bad. Fortunately it was a clean break, and the wound was clean. (I had been amazed that George didn't have any gravel or scratches on him anywhere. I even asked him if maybe he broke it by holding on to the handlebars too tightly.) The doc did have to open the existing hole incision slightly to have enough room to work, and did put a pin in to keep the larger of the two bones in place. He explained about casting and appointments, and then we just waited for George to wake up.

Sorry. The copy of these xrays isn't as good of quality.

George was finally awake and brought up to a room just before midnight. We got him settled in, but I think he was still drugged up pretty good. The nurse tried explaining the pain chart to him but he kept landing on the smiley face (Zero pain), and when we asked him about where he got the name Ham Bones from, he gave us some really wild story about Arthur and a dog looking for bones for his sock collection... yeah. It unraveled and made no sense whatsoever, but it was amusing.

When the nurse was talking to him, out of the blue he said, "You know, God was with me taking care of me during my surgery." I think we were all a little shocked by that statement as none of us knew what to say. The nurse just brushed it off, I said wow that's great, and dad just sat there freaked that his son had possibly "seen the light." Later, when the nurse had left, Kong asked him how he knew God was with him. He said, "I prayed before I went in to surgery and God came and  protected me."

Wow. Just wow. The faith of a child.

As a parent, it's touching to know that your kids believe in God or are interested in that stuff. George has not always had the enthusiasm. For as much as you can talk to them about God, the rest is between them and Him. We don't have any control over it. This wasn't just some drugged up story he was telling. At church 5 days later, he told the same story to the Kids Church, and the teacher told me George expressed he was quite sure that God had taken care of him. He didn't remember I was there after surgery, but he remembered this. So to have your child seek out and then feel God's presence, and know He was there without a shadow of a doubt is amazing.Wow. Just wow.

Since George had slept in recovery, he had been bright eyed and bushy tailed when he was transferred to a room, and was all excited to watch cartoons on cable. Unfortunately, only Hannah Montana was on at midnight. He was bummed when mom called it quits, but we all needed sleep. Kong stayed at the hospital while I took the baby home, as there was no place to put him. I left the guys to have a "sleepover." Probably not as fun as you might normally want in a sleepover, with casts and iv's, and the codeine might be a little too much fun, but we don't normally hand that out at our sleepovers. :D

Saturday, July 23, 2011


Since I'm posting things late, I might as well throw this in there.

Koko has been begging me to get her hair cut short. Since her birthday in February, I think. "All my friends are doing it." Oh Lord. We're starting that already?

Easter. It had been curled, but this shows about how long it was.

Kong and the Mrs. are long haired people. We like long hair. The girls have beautiful hair. It's a PAIN in the BUTT to brush. Kong tried to convince Koko that she should keep it long and beautiful. It didn't really work.

Miss Cheeks was getting a little shaggy now. 
Also, her most chopped of the chopped bangs had fully grown out.

When Cheeks gave herself her own hairdo last fall, I said "Chop it all off!" Ok, she actually said did it. I just said, "Finish the job right," and "Help me, Rhonda." So my savior friend came and did damage control. Bless her! And she did chop it all off. It was great. Looked super cute on her, suited her face and personality, and the best part: No more tears. Just like the shampoo, only with brushing. I vowed to continue on this path to greatness of shortness with Cheeks. I just didn't see it for Koko.

But then....

Summer came, I was tired of the tears, and thought fine. Let's do it.

So we did. Or rather, Andrea and ??someothergirl did.

 I love love love how Koko's is shorter in back. I asked for that and love how it suits her. Next time I might ask for more layers or something for Cheeks. They're both so adorable, if I do say so myself.

Ta da! Aren't they gorgeous? We'll be keeping these hairstyles for a while.

Friday, July 22, 2011

teeth. or not.

Here's a post I forgot to publish. I wrote it mid June. oops!

He's about as toothless as a kid could get right now. For being the one who started late (didn't get his first tooth til he was 10 months and 11 days), he's making up for it. His sister, 14 1/2 months his junior, started before him, with the two bottom front ones. He lost those soon after she did, but it was still a few months I think. Well, in the last 2 months, he has lost 6 teeth, I believe, and has surpassed her. However, he can no longer eat apples.

He's not too big on pulling teeth out, and of coarse won't let anyone near him if they threaten to do it for him. He actually lost one of this last batch in his sleep. Yeah, gross.

Even though he figured out the whole Tooth Fairy thing, we still go thru the motions. It's cute. Wouldn't want to ruin it for the others. But man, is this kid raking in the cash this summer. lol

I forgot to take a picture showing him in his wholiness, but here's a fun one of George and his cousin that sort of shows it. Funny story: the Cuz came up, saw George wearing his Superman shirt, said he'd be right back, went home, changed into his Superman shirt, and then came back up to our house to get George to go back and play at his house. lol. Yeah. A lotta of running he did. Glad they have the energy for all that.

After this pic I think he lost a few more teeth, but has since had some grow in. It's taken a loooonnngg time for the one top from tooth to bust through the gums, and it's just starting to do that now, but the top left is mostly in. So funny to see kids with these big teeth in their mouths.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

The Arm, part deux.

My kid is amazing. It needs to be said. I know that every parent thinks their kid is amazing, but mine was so awesome during these next 3 hours of the story. Stunningly so. Everyone kept saying it.

While we were still at home, the hubs had called in to work, but since he was under their "call-in window" they told him he had to come to work. If not, it was a final warning or termination. Go to work, I said. We don't need that added stress. But how sucky is that? To have to go to work when your child is "majorly" injured. We were too dazed at this point to argue it.

My kid's being a rock star started about now. By the time we got him buckled into the car, he had well finished crying. He was white as a ghost, but "calm" and quiet. I apologized several times to my mom and told her I needed her to stay with the kids. Of coarse, was the answer, just tell me what you need. I'm so glad they were there. 

My brother came to the hospital with me, as he knew I'd need help. I had to bring Huggyface since I am his favorite food source and favorite person, and I knew we'd be hours. But wrangling a broken arm and a stroller was not in the cards. Thank you, dear brother. You were A Godsend.

As we were leaving town, I just felt the need to pray. Sometimes, our prayers are not eloquent or with words aplenty, but God sees our heart. I prayed the shortest prayer ever, just thanking God for having my family present, and asking to cover our needs (medically) and to help with George's pain, amen. Ten seconds. Tops. And then I kept driving. Calmly.

At the hospital, they got him in immediately upon seeing the arm, and dispatched a call to the on-call orthopedic surgeon. (At the time of injury, the bone was probably protruding a 1/4" to 1/2".) Usually there can be a lot of waiting with emergency, but we either lucked out with it not being that busy (there were a lot more people there at midnight, that's for sure) or it was just. that. serious. Probably both. Either way, we didn't have to wait a ton of time to get things moving. The nurses did really great at talking to him and trying to divert his attention, and also at minimizing his pain. He would get a little freaked out whenever they would start touching him or wanting to do things but by explaining what they were doing, and getting reassurance from mom and uncle, he took it all just fine. It was pretty funny when one of the male ?EMT's was helping to get him undressed and said he'd have to cut off his shirt. George freaked out a little and said, "www wait. you're what? you're gonna cut my shirt?" high-pitched and with this wild look on his face. It was kind of funny, but I suppose he didn't understand why they would need to. I just told him yep, so they don't have to pull it over your arm, and that reassurance from mom that it's ok settled him right down. WHen he had the IV put in they loaded his arm up with numbing stuff first, which was helpful. The nurse explained step by step what she was going to do (and used the term straw instead of needle, Thank you, nurse - so helpful), and even though it still hurt, he just lay there watching, and took it all with the most amazing reserve of courage I've seen. 

This is my kid who is afraid of the dark, who can't watch shows about lion attacks or 48 Hours because he'll be traumatized for weeks, regardless of the consoling and convincing we try to give him. He'll sleep with his sister when he can't convince mom to let him sleep in her bed, and refuses to go upstairs alone, even during the day. Nightlights... a MUST. He fears shots or pokes weeks in advance, even for the dentist. We, everyone - nurses, attendants, doctors - were so awed by how brave he was, and kept saying so. There was never any fuss, no crying, no kicking or screaming or knashing of teeth that you'd easily see in kids his age and even adults. He just took it all in stride. We even told him it was ok to be scared and cry if he needed to. Nope, he just held it all in with stoic bravery.

On his commute to work, Kong had called back and ended up on the phone with a company manager to discuss this situation. Fortunately he'd make a special allowance. Good thing, cuz I think that guy woulda crashed a semi. He was in no shape to be driving, honestly. So he was able to turn around and come to the hospital. Lucky for him, he missed most of the gory stuff with the IV and x-rays. Daddy doesn't do well with needles. And I was very glad to have him there with us.

One of the things the staff did to comfort George was to give him a handmade stuffed animal. The nurse brought it to him with a bandage around it's arm too, and asked him to name it. Ah, such a funny kid. He named it Ham Bone. We sure got a kick out of it and his funny sense of humor. Apparently it was part of a conversation earlier with his cousin and Grandpa, and also something to do with Spongebob or Aurthur. I dunno. He was drugged up when he told us the story.

George with Ham Bone

From the x-ray, it was pretty clear that both bones were broken, and the orthoped came in fairly quickly and talked to us about what was next - surgery. His injury was a compound fracture, a couple inches above the wrist, with the bone protruding out the front side of his arm. Obviously he would need surgery to set it, and there was a possibility he might need a pin to hold the bones in place (which he did). Fortunately, the break had missed the growth plate (a blessing). Amazingly, the doc said he should only be in a cast 5 weeks or so. Wow. So fast to heal.
I'm pretty sure I don't have to indicate where the break is on this picture.

We were all pretty freaked out but stayed calm and kept our jittery nerves below the surface as much as possible. Both mom and dad got a little teary with our first born child, but all in all we tried to make it a "no big deal" situation, while also expressing to George how brave he was and how proud we were of him. Also, how we would DEFINITELY be buying him that Lego toy he'd been bugging me about all day. LOL Something to look forward to. I think he earned it.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

Arm Photo (with WARNING)

The picture you are about to see is kinda gross. 

If you are not into freaky graphic photos, them just back up now. Click the X and come back tomorrow. 

I don't want to be the cause of anyone losing their lunch. Well, actually, I don't think it's that gross, but it will make you recoil a little, maybe feel a little sick to your stomach. It is of a broken arm, and all. A broken arm that had the bone sticking out. The bone is not too obvious in this picture, but there is some blood and you can definitely see where it came out. Just lettin' ya know.

I asked George if I could take a picture of his arm. At first he said no, but then he changed his mind and agreed. It was a pretty bad break, as I've already sort of described, and it was so awkward looking, it was worth remembering. I figured he would be interested in looking back years later.  Turns out, he's already asked to see the picture a time or two.


If you're sure you want to see it...

Here's a picture of his sweet face, first, just so blogger does't post the grody pic as the post icon. Cuz no one needs to get exposed unnecessarily.

Sweet face. smirk.
That's his best Superman pose, apparently. Fierce, isn't he? lol

And then the yucky pic.

Last warning.

Ok. Your choice.

Don't say I didn't warn you....

Kinda makes you wince, doesn't it?

Late to the story? Read all about it here: Part One, Part deux, Part Three, Parte cuatro

Monday, July 18, 2011

The Arm, part one.

It was a dark and stormy night...

Haha. Nope. Just kidding. It was a bright sunny day.

I would like to preface this story with the statement that you may go through tough things, trauma of all sorts. Life sort of ensures that. While we can wonder at the 'why me' or 'where was God,' the reality is He doesn't say that he will keep us from experiencing those things, but, and what I and my family felt, was that HE, indeed, is present during those times. There are lots of parts to this story, small seemingly insignificant moments, easily overlooked, that show that He was there for us.

So back to this bright sunny day.

A few years ago, my parents decided to start a new family tradition of "Picnic in the Park" family dinners. Since my brother and I both live in the same town, both have kids, and I conveniently live across the street from a park, they thought we could have a get together where they would come to us. The kids are entertained by the jungle gyms and swings, the adults get to talk, and no one has to clean their house. Win win. 

It was our first one of the season. My dad was grilling, my brother watching, (younger brother couldn't come) and mom, my sister-in-law and I were chatting. The kids were all playing except for the big boys who were riding their bikes around in the street. I had only been there about 15-20 minutes when I heard some commotion, saw my brother start jogging and looked over to see that George had fallen off his bike. He was getting up, holding his arm. At first I thought he was looking at his elbow, thinking maybe he scraped it. I also started to jog towards him, and during that I saw that his arm was flopping in a rather unnatural fashion. 

Oh crap. I just knew he had broken it. There was no denying it, even from a few hundred feet away. The panic started to rise, and my heart was beating fast. As he got to me, my brother and I both saw that not only did he break his arm, but the bone was sticking out. 

Oh, gees. Deep breath. Panic... panic... now what? My mind was racing. Poor kid was screaming, more in a frantic nature, and kept saying, "Am I going to have to have a shot? Will I have to get stitches/" You almost want to laugh at this. Least of your worries, my dear. I did my best to stay calm and just say, I'm not sure, but we'll get it taken care of.

Meanwhile, my mind is still racing, and freaking, thoughts stumbling over each other. I strangely asked, "Do I have to take him to the hospital?" My family looked at me like I was stupid or crazy or both, and said, "Uh, yeah. He needs to go to the hospital for this." Later, when I thought about it, what I meant was, "Do *I* take him, or do I call 911?" I got a little laugh out of that one. The looks on their faces. lol

My brother and I helped George hold his arm and walk across the park to my house. The girls kept coming up to me and I just kept telling them, Go to Grammie. I didn't want them to see his arm and be freaked out. I told my brother to go yell up the stairs to Kong, who was sleeping and would be getting up to go to work shortly, that George broke his arm, and then to go get a towel from the bathroom to wrap around the arm to help stabilize it. Poor hubby. What a way to wake up, especially for someone who doesn't handle trauma very well. Later he told me that he even just stood at the top of the stairs, dazed, saying to himself, "I don't know if I can go down there."

My mom brought an ice pack from her cooler, and we put that and a towel around his arm, set it on a pillow, and then on a cookie sheet to stabilize the pillow. I quickly called the ER to let them know we were coming so they could be expecting us and so that we wouldn't have to wait or explain too much. Not that a bone sticking out isn't explanation enough. 

My mind was racing as to what all I should bring, what to tell my mom to do, and then off we went.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

I Corinthians 13

Love is patient 
Love is kind 
Love does not envy 
Love does not boast 
Love is not proud (or too proud to humble oneself in repentance - my words) 
Love does not dishonor others 
Love is not self-seeking 
Love is not easily angered 
Love keeps no record of wrongs 
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 
Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 

Really struggling with this lately. 

I fail. 
I am a very imperfect person. 
I make lots of mistakes. 
I try to say sorry, but sometimes that's hard for me, the admitting of wrong. Who wants to be wrong? Not me!
I try to have grace. I fail. 
I have good intentions. 
I very rarely intend to inflict harm, and even then I'll just stop doing the nice things I do or smear boogers on your good towels (uh, sorry mom. :D) 

But I am human. So sometimes my good intentions comes out wrong and I have to do this (to admit my mistake). My good intentions are sometimes shadowed by my own anger or hurt feelings. sigh. It seems like a never ending battle for me. Will I ever get it right? Wouldn't it be nice if we weren't human? Never made mistakes? Always said/did the right thing? sigh. 

I struggle.

I'll keep trying. Eventually,.. maybe,.. I'll get something right.

Love never fails

I hope.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

A natural

Cheeks: There was squirrel poop outside but I didn't step in it.
Mrs.: How do you know it was squirrel poop? (hey, I wouldn't know.)
Cheeks: Squirrel poop is green.
Mrs.: (Really?!?) How do you know squirrel poop is green?
Cheeks: Because it is.
Mrs.: Yes, but where did you learn this.
Cheeks: No where. I just know. I'm a natural.

Well, there you have it.

And who knows. Maybe she's right. She does talk about becoming a vet-er-in-arian.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

A first for someone

We've had an exciting night. My big boy George broke his arm in a big way tonight. He got a quick rush to the hospital where he just got out of surgery. Uffda!

Nothing like giving your parents a heart attack. He'll be here overnight just to make sure he's ok.

More on that story later. Right now I'm just trying to get the image of his bone protruding out of his arm out of my head.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Sweet 4th and 16th

We missed you today. We did the things you'd want to do - celebrate the 4th in true Fourth of July fashion. George even remembered about Z99 signs and made one for everyone. (10 points if you can point out his "dyslexic" one. teehee)

We sweat our buns off this year. The temp wasn't bad but it was humid so that makes it seem so much hotter. We enjoyed the shade of Auntie Naynay's FIL's house for the last half of the parade, but it was packed there. The afternoon was relaxed, with lunch at Pizza Ranch with Grandma, Irene and Coco, and then a cool down in the pool, while we waited out the day's final festivity. (and for the life of me I can't get the pics off my damned phone. maybe later.)

We even went to the fireworks in town. Boots is so scared of them (and the loud noise) that there was no way we'd be able to do the small town ones like last year. We sat on the courthouse lawn (they shoot them over the river now) and had a great view with less noise, but the skeeters were still giving us a workout. Fireworks sucked, though. Lasted a very lame 15 minutes. Seriously, we were in the car by 10:18. (That's why the other town is better. I found that out when I would drive home from mkts display, more than once, and be watching said small towns still-going fireworks from 10 miles away.) We still had fun, though. 15 minutes of fireworks is more than we have most other days.

Now we're home (well, your dad's at work), everyone's sawing logs, covered in bug spray and sucker stickiness. 

But I feel that missing thing. 

Happy Sweet Sixteen, my dear. 
I hope it was the best ever. 

For what it's worth, we, all of us, your dad, me, the kids, we ALL love you and miss you. 

He misses you, but he's not fighting your rejection anymore having trouble getting through. Anytime YOU want to call US (your dad), to make a connection, let us know where you are... well, that'd be nice. Because he's tried, many many times. And you must not want to be found you're hard to reach.  Regardless, we're still here and we still love you. Nothing could ever change that. I repeat. Nothing could ever change that and don't ever believe otherwise.