October 30 started like any other weekday. I woke with the roosters, and made the trek to the metro station so I could get to work at 8:00am.
It was going to be a long day. I was leaving for my organization’s Annual Meeting the next day, so I needed to finish packing for the trip when I got home from work, and we were going out to dinner with the kids after football practice to celebrate our 14th wedding anniversary.
I really needed another 10 hours in my day to get all this shit done.
At 8:17am, I received this text from my husband:
I responded with this:
Kidding. What I actually texted back was this:
At 3:39pm, I got this text:
I dialed my husband’s cell phone, prepared to hear a rather grousy spouse who needed a better description of where the car was parked.
Instead, this is what he said, “Uh, yeah, I’m at urgent care with Nick. He broke his leg at recess today. Gotta go – the doctor just came in with the x-rays. Click.”
Which pretty much made me feel like this:
With two active, sports-loving boys, I should have known visits to urgent care would be a staple in our lives. So far, we’ve had three visits for our oldest son Alex:
- a broken finger, from goofing off with other kids at the Y, where a kid fell on his hand:
- a chipped tooth (no one can remember how it happened), and
- a severely sprained ankle during a basketball game, that kept him out of commission for 2 weeks and required him to make a very mature decision about when to play again.
And two trips for Nick:
- a chipped tooth (which my husband described as “a small chip”) after he ran into a metal pole while goofing off with some other kids at a high school football game, and
- a broken leg
When I got home, I learned that the broken leg happened at recess, while Nick was playing a game of kickball with his classmates. He had kicked the ball and was running to first. The ball was thrown at him. He attempted to jump over it to avoid being thrown out, but the ball hit his feet and he came down awkwardly. He told me “mom, when I hit the ground, I heard it pop!”
My husband then said, “Wait a minute…you got thrown out? Your crazy ninja kickball jump was in vain?”. I could see the disappointment on my husband’s face when he realized that not only had Nick broken his leg, but (even worse) HE HAD GOTTEN OUT. I reassured my husband that the college scouts wouldn’t be holding this one transgression against Nick when it came time to dole out sports scholarships.
Diagnosis for Nick – a substantial break. A spiral fracture that required great care as he would be in a cast from his toes to his upper thigh for a minimum of four weeks. If he bumped his leg, fell, or applied any pressure at all to the leg, he could injure it further, which would mean surgery, screws, and even longer healing.
That night, we hurried through our anniversary dinner because Nick’s pain meds were wearing off.
The next morning, I called to get a later train to Philadelphia so that I could go to the doctor with my husband and Nick for the big casting event. The doctors took off the temporary half cast he got at urgent care:
And proceeded to cast him to the upper thigh in blue and gold (school colors!):
So with crutches to get him everywhere, he now strikes quite the pose:
His two week check up with the doctor showed that the break is healing nicely, and he may be out of the cast just before Thanksgiving. Once he’s out of the cast, he’ll transition to a walking boot for awhile.
The biggest adjustment for Nick has been no sports. He missed out on his Bowl game with his football team, which they won. And he won’t be able to play basketball this winter until he gets the all clear from the doctor.
Tough break, kid. Literally.