Thursday, August 4, 2011

The Arm, parte cuatro.

This is the continuation of the story of a broken arm. You can read the other parts here: 

In the morning, I tried to get back to the hospital before the doc did rounds. I had talked with Kong to check on the boy and to let him know when I would be leaving. He said that George was more than ready to come home, and was refusing to eat. He was only interested in getting the heck out of there. And, he wanted his mom. I talked to George and convinced him to let daddy order him some ice cream for breakfast. Yes, I would let you have ice cream for breakfast, son. (He perked at that suggestion.) Daddy got him to have some sausage and a pancake too.

I stopped quickly at my MIL's house to drop off some sorely missed blankies and give my other kiddos a hug, I found a sad Miss Koko. My one regret in this whole situation is that I did not say goodbye to the kids, explain what was going on or reassure them that everything would be fine. I think the two littles were clueless but Koko, a bit wiser, knew to be worried and so I'm glad I stopped by there. She needed her mama too.

When my sister in law had come to the hospital the night before to pick up my brother and bring us food, she brought my nephews along. I told my brother that Mammu, my nephew, could come over the next day and see George when he was home. As I drove out of town that morning, past my brother's house, I could see poor Mammu waiting outside, checking to see when our car would be returning home. It was 8:30 am. Poor kid. I called my brother to let him know it would probably be late afternoon, so that his son could stop standing at the corner on lookout. My dad had said that after we left the park to go to the ER, Mammu kept saying, "That's my cousin. That's my cousin," sort of in shock and worry. Gotta love how those boys love each other. And Mammu is very protective so I know he was anxiously awaiting his cousin's return to safety.

When I got to the hospital, the damn broke, a little, and my stoic and brave little boy had a bit of a cry. I had missed the doctor but the last dose of antibiotics was deemed unnecessary and so we were let out early. George was none too happy. With a quick stop to get a movie (gotta love those curbside rental boxes in blue or red) and some siblings, we were homeward bound.
George with Ham Bone.

George was a good little patient, very low key and protective of his arm. He was scared to sleep the first two nights, afraid he might hurt it in his sleep, but that's what codeine's for, right? He remains cautious, as you might expect, and for some time was upset by any talking about what happened, which is hard when everyone keeps asking what he did and "what the other guy looked like." He even told me that it makes him want to cry. Aw, poor guy. Such a tender one, he is.

We went in a week after his surgery to get a hard cast on. He was pretty freaked out to not have that cast on his arm. The PA's in casting did great in distracting him with (the constant ringing of) their cell phone which played such fun hits as the theme songs to Indiana Jones, Star Wars and Pink Panther. All hits with this kid. He chose a black cast, which required the purchase of "special" metallic markers, of which he wanted only the gold, and was very excited to have friends sign his cast. 

Now, more waiting. The fun's only half over.


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