Tuesday at around 11:00 we got a call from Tyler’s daycare, telling us that he was running in the playground and had fallen on his right arm, on the grass. Tyler wanted ice and the staff was moving his arm and he seemed to be okay. No more calls so I stopped worrying.
When Grant brought Tyler home he told me that Tyler was complaining about his right arm. He was holding it funny, not using it and not letting us even near him. Grant said that when he picked him up he was fine so he thought that Tyler was laying it on a little thick.
I remembered back to the time when I was seven years old and had broken my arm. I did everything I could to tell my parents that I was “fine” and that it didn’t hurt any more. I was scared to death of going to a hospital! I kept saying to Grant that Tyler wasn’t faking. He stupidly threw a stuffed animal at Tyler to see if he would catch it and instead it just hit him! Idiot! That’s Grant I’m talking about.
I called the pediatrician and he thought we should go to the E.R. to have it x-rayed. We packed up Tyler’s beloved Eeyore, snacks, and books and headed out. There is only one hospital in our area that takes Tyler’s Family Care (poor people) insurance, and it is supposed to have a good reputation.
Tyler was doing pretty well, he told the admitting nurse that they had been running a race but that “wasn’t such a good idea”, that he was a “special boy” and that he was “very funny”. We told the nurse that Tyler has Tourette’s Syndrome, OCD and Anxiety but was otherwise healthy. She examined Tyler’s arm and said the doctor would want to pinpoint the exact pain so they would have to not have to give him excess radiation. Hmm, I must be a walking x-ray by now.
He got a bed pretty quickly. The first thing that happened was a doctor came over to us and said, “Okay, let’s see, now your name is Rupert, you are six-years-old and you have something wrong with your stomach?” Wrong kid! The doctor exited gracefully. Maybe we should have left then?
The nurse gave Tyler some ibupropen which mostly came out of Tyler’s mouth and dribbled down his hospital gown and the bed. After a while it was time to go to x-ray. Now, I clearly had my cane, but the stupid nursing assistant, this beautiful, blonde, Nordic ice princess says, “Now Mama, you carry him to x-ray.” I looked at Grant, “I can’t carry him!”, so Grant did.
Your would have thought we were taking Tyler to the electric chair, he screamed and wiggled so much, plus his arm was hurting. Grants pants, perfect timing, started to fall down and some stranger says, “I got it buddy, I got it” and pulls his pants up for him. We decided Tyler should walk.
So he’s walking, doing okay and he trips over…air…and falls, ON HIS ARM. Tyler and I simultaneously start screaming and crying. An orthopedic doctor saw the fall and said, “This child doesn’t go anywhere any more without a stretcher or wheelchair!” The dumb-ass nurse’s aid says, “It wasn’t MY fault!” I wanted to smack her. Tyler is almost in shock. “I-I c-c-can’t s-stop crying”, he kept saying.
Grant at this point is livid. He wants to see the patient advocate, he’s talking filing complaints and lawsuits. How do you allow a little boy to be carried and then walk to the X-ray, when he is scared, medicated, tired and in pain?! Who just walks to the x-ray room anyway?!
Tyler and Grant finally get into x-ray, where now they have to take like 20 x-rays, to make sure he has not broken any other part of his arm after the fall. So much for radiation caution.
It turned out that Tyler has a broken elbow. They splinted it and put his arm in a sling. We have to see an orthopedic surgeon in a few days for more x-rays, and then maybe a cast. No school for Tyler for at least two days. As they are doing the splint, the dumb-ass nurse’s aid is ON HER KNEES apologizing to me, telling me that it is standard procedure for the mama to carry the child to x-ray. A social worker was there too. I said, “You know, I don’t think this is such a great procedure, PLUS I told you my son had Tourette’s Syndrome, OCD and Anxiety. He didn’t need any more trauma!”
More profuse apologizing from doctor’s, janitors, the social worker, and all the crappy orange juice we could drink. They fast tracked us out of there and we brought Tyler home, where he went to sleep about 1:30 this morning.
Grant and I were known as “accident-prone” kids. Tyler, unfortunately has started earlier in the broken bone department than the both of us.