Saturday, November 14, 2009

Head Over Heels

Tuesday evening Isaac was jumping on his friend's trampoline. He did something that hurt his hip, and his buddies called me in a panic that Isaac was injured. I ran up the street, leaving my flute student doing her warm-up exercises. I found Isaac, limping down the street, crying his little eyes out. He could walk OK, but he couldn't sit down, and he couldn't rotate his hip at all. I calmed him down and let him rest while I finished teaching, and by the time I was done, he was feeling much better, so I thought I'd just watch him overnight and see how he was in the morning.

At about 2:30 AM he came stumbling in to my room, crying about his hip hurting, so I snuggled him for a while and he fell back asleep. Dennis and I decided that we'd better take him in to the doctor first thing Wednesday morning.

In the morning, we got everyone ready for school. Kate had already left, Paul was still asleep, Dennis and the boys were finished eating, and I was rushing around trying to finish getting ready. Isaac was complaining that he couldn't walk to school, and I was worried that his teachers wouldn't believe him that his hip was hurting and that they would make him sit on the floor, which was the one thing that REALLY made his hip hurt. So we decided to drive the boys to school and Dennis would run in and explain to Isaac's teacher that he would need to sit on a chair on not on the floor until we could get him in to the doctor. Dennis and the boys were just getting ready to walk out the door, and I was coming down the stairs to give hugs and kisses.

I got about halfway down the stairs when the right heel of my awesome suede boots got caught in the cuff of my left pant leg. Next thing I knew I was airborne, and then I was mashing my head against the wall and my right knee against the floor and then, oh my goodness it hurts to even remember, I landed with my full weight on my left hand.

Dennis heard me yell when I fell, so he turned around (he was standing at the kitchen sink for those who are familiar with the floor plan of my house), just in time to see me come flying out of the stairwell. From the way my face hit the wall, he was sure my neck would be injured. Isaac was also standing in the kitchen doorway, and he saw the disgusting wreck as well. He did the only sensible thing for a six-and-a-half year old boy to do--he burst into tears. Which is also what I did. Only Isaac was softly crying, and I was yelling and sobbing like a demented banshee.

Dennis, my hero, rushed to me and spoke softly and told me to hold still. He got me straightened out checked all the damaged places, then brought pillows, then Ibuprofen, then ice. I told him to take those @#$% boots off my feet and throw them in the trash. He took them off and said he liked my boots and that they were very cute. But I should probably get rid of the pants. Through all this, I could hear Wade in the kitchen reading Isaac a book about starfish. What a great big brother to step in and take care of his little buddy.

I was 100% positive that my wrist was broken. It was swelling and red and my whole arm hurt. I couldn't move my fingers without pain, and I couldn't move my thumb at all. I was thinking about the rehearsal I had that evening, and the concert I have next week. I was thinking about my day at work and the things I still had to get done for our department review that was beginning the next day. I continued to cry because that is what I do best. Dennis brought me a blanket, and Paul came up to sit with me while Dennis took the boys to school.

When Dennis came back from driving the boys, he had already called the doctor's office. They would be waiting for both me and Isaac as soon as we could get there. So Dennis helped me put on some FLAT shoes (which did NOT hide the red Christmas socks I was wearing like my awesome high-heeled suede boots did), and brought me a bowl for my severe nausea. Dennis and Paul bundled me out to the car, helped buckle me in, and off we went.

We picked Isaac up at school, Dennis called my boss (I was still crying too hard to talk to him), and I cuddled with my barf bowl. Since this story is getting way to long and the good part is over, I'll just cut to the chase. The doctor diagnosed Isaac with a pulled groin muscle, and not the dislocation we were afraid of. She touched and wiggled my arm a little, and I cried enough that she quit and just ordered some X-rays. We went to the hospital, where they wouldn't let Isaac come in because of precautions for Swine Flu, so I cried some more. Dennis took Isaac outside, and I took myself in for the X-rays. The X-ray technician was very nice and cheerful, and he took good care of me. I felt better by the time we left the hospital.

The hospital people said that it would be a while before they would get the X-rays read, and then they would call the results in to my doctor. So we took Isaac back to school and got him settled, and then we went to work. Dennis had an appointment with a student, and I figured I might as well see what I could get done at work. So I took my make up-free face and my fuzzy, unstraightened hair and my red Christmas socks with black pants and my pillow and my dish towel and my bag of ice and went in to work. I sent some one-handed emails and ate birthday pizza with one of my co-workers, I checked on all my business for the review, and I got some things ready for the next day. Dennis came up to pick me up about an hour later, and while he was there, the doctor's office called with the results of the X-ray.

NOT BROKEN. Just a bad sprain. Take ibuprofen and ice it. Well, I guess that's good news, right? But I still felt like crap and I had done the things I needed to do, so I took my pillow and my ice and the rest of me and just went home. I spent the afternoon in my bed with my arm on a pillow. Isaac came home from school feeling mostly fine, and although he continues to favor that hip a little, he is doing much better.

That was Wednesday. Now it's Saturday, and I'm typing with two hands, but I still don't want to hold a pencil. I can play my flute a little, but it hurts and I can't move my fingers very fast. The wrist is very tender, and if it was a weight-bearing limb, I would be sitting around a lot. But the swelling has gone down a lot, and can you even believe it?!! I don't have one single bruise on my body. Anywhere. My neck is a little sore, and my right knee is a lot sore, and of course the wrist, but other than that, I'm fit as a fat fiddle.

And I have a new pair of black, cuff-less pants.

7 comments:

Kazzy said...

Holy Hannah! I hope you are both on the mend soon. WOw!

I fell down the stairs a few months ago and once I felt it coming I just tucked and rolled. Luckily I was totally fine and ended up laughing my head off once I landed. The kids laughed too.

Sharon said...

You are an excellent writer! Thanks for sharing that with me - it truly brightened up my day!

Lee and Melody said...

:P What a week. Sounds like you're due for a break. Wait, scratch that. Sounds like you're due for a respite. :) I am jealous in one aspect, because you know how I bruise (in fact, I should have taken pix of the one I got at church a few weeks ago. And your Halloween pictures are so fun! ANd I am posting, as we type, a video for you and Kate.

Susan said...

Thank goodness it wasn't broken! I hope you both get 100% better soon. Good luck with the flute. Wrist injuries are no fun.

Tat said...

You poor thing! I'm so sorry you had such a spectacular fall.

heath said...

Oh Marianne! That is the worst! I sure hope that your wrist heals very quickly. If that happened to me I wouldn't have thought twice about calling in sick to work--you're a better woman than I.

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