Trauma

5 days ago Graham broke his leg.  This has inspired me to get back to blogging for several reasons:  to spare my Facebook friends from my daily commentary (though FB has been a huge source of support the past few days!), to provide myself with a little bit of therapy as we get through these next few weeks, and finally, to document what will eventually be a triumph over tragedy story in little G's life!

This will probably be the longest post because I'm going to start from the beginning.  Then, I hope to just document the ups and downs of this little speed bump set in our paths.  I'm going to try to stick to the basics here:

What:  A complete fracture of Graham's right femur.  Pretty much right in the middle of his thigh with a slight angle to the fracture.

When:  About 9:00 p.m. last Wednesday.  Right before bath time.

How:  G-man and Daddy were enjoying yet another summer evening racing two balls down the driveway.  G was chasing the balls downhill at top toddler speed and stepped on one of them as it was rolling.  He landed on his knee which impacted the femur.  (I'm already getting nauseous again)

All of this led to a trip to the local 24 hour ER where they x-rayed (horrible), splinted (horrible), stuck him with an IV (twice, horrible) and FINALLY gave him some morphine.  An ambulance had been called from Children's in Plano which is about a 30 minute drive.  We were already hearing words such as "significant", "worst bone to break", "have you seen the x-ray?".  Mommy and Daddy were doing our very best to keep it together for Graham.

I rode in the ambulance with him, but they made me ride up front for "safety" reasons.  Whatever.  They just didn't want me in the back for some reason.  I swear I was not hysterical at this point.  No siren by the way.  Apparently this was not a "lights and sirens" type of emergency.  The morphine was doing it's job, so G was comfortable for the eternally long ride in that rattle trap of an ambulance. 

Once at the children's hospital, they had to x-ray again because the disc sent from the first ER wasn't compatible with their system.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  Sometimes morphine just isn't enough.

Finally, one of the 12 doctors determined that surgery was not necessary -- rule of thumb is usually to cast if under 4 years and under 100 lbs.  G is both of those!  So, now we start talking casting.  G had to be sedated which was some newfangled medicine rather than anesthesia.  It was truly the worst part of all of this.  G is awake, but in a "dreamlike" state where supposedly he won't remember anything.  They had us stay in the room while they administered the first dose.  When they moved his leg his eyes got wide and he was trying to say "mom" but couldn't.  Horrible.  Complete and totally deserved breakdown once we got out of that room. 

Casting took about an hour.  I think.  When we went into see him he was happy and being silly.  He could answer all of my questions but the nurse wanted him to cough before we finally got a room.  Every time I'd say "Can you cough for mommy?  Can you cough like this?"  He'd smile and say "BUUURP".  Of course that made everyone laugh so he did that about 36 more times, but never coughed.  We were all pretty sure his airways were clear at that point.

Finally, thankyouLordJeasus, we were wheeled up to the pediatric ward.  It was around 5 a.m.  I thought G would crash, but we all stayed awake and watched Nick Jr. until he finally fell asleep around 7 a.m.  He was awakened 29 times to change IV, change the battery on the IV machine, check circulation in his foot, to show us how to put him in a special seat belt harness, and to practice putting it on him.  We were released by 10:30 a.m.  I don't think that should count as a full night's stay, do you?

The road home

Finally home and codeine-happy!

The cast, called a SPICA cast, is set in a sitting position.  It covers the entire broken leg, his hips, his torso up to his rib cage, and the thigh of his "good leg" with the bar in between.  They left a hole for potty and poo which is a whole nuther post. 

Day 1.  Done.  Exhausted. Happy to be home.  Grieving in spurts for the little things...new school clothes that would not be worn, showers with Daddy-no more, and a little guy whose world as he knew it was just turned upside down.  Then hope, as people began to share their stories with me through e-mails and facebook messages, hope as we had small talks with ourselves about how much worse it could've been and IS for some children and families. 

And so, blogtherapy begins for the next 6 weeks.  Perhaps someone will Google "SPICA" like I did and come across this blog and find it helpful or at least comforting to find someone out there who is going through the same thing.