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The bright side.

2010-04-16 - 4:10 p.m.

Last night, peering into my Happy Meal bag as I unwrapped my burger, I exclaimed,

"Hey! You remembered to grab me a BBQ sauce! Life is good!"

This elicited some odd looks and chuckles from those seated around me, so I hastily added, "Well, I mean, as good as it can be, given that I'm sitting in the Children's Hospital's ER waiting room."

Let me explain: Biscuit, poor little man, had taken a funny fall on his arm at daycare, and when I saw him over an hour later he was still not using it. ER ho!

After several hours, several trips to and from various locations within the hospital, 3 X-rays, one consoling popsicle (his first! Aww.) and several unsuccessful attempts at fixing things later, a doctor finally managed to pop his it-turned-out-to-be dislocated elbow back into place. Ten minutes after that he was using it normally and we got the all-clear to head out to pick up his sister from friends*, and home again, home again, rig-a-jig-jig.

After he got over the initial fall (which I wasn’t there for), he never seemed to be in any pain as long as no one was actually touching or manipulating his arm (he elicited a lot of cooing in the sign-in line for nuzzling me with kisses, actually), but he wouldn’t use it at all; it was cradled permanently against his side. Take note in case you find your toddler behaving in a similar way after a tumble and get thee hence to have it looked at.


* These friends are rocks. not only understood when we made the decision to go to the hospital and bailed on mutual dinner plans, they took Grommet home with them, played with her, gave her the Easter package they’d put together for her, bought her pyjamas and a toothbrush, and washed and dried the pyjamas!. She was comfortably ensconced in bed with one of them reading books to her when we arrived. She, needless to say, didn’t want to come home.


P.S. When I said, life is good given the circumstances, it wasn’t an unfair statement: Biscuit was contentedly munching a chicken nugget, I had some food, my husband was there to help with the child-wrangling and to pass the time with, and in comparing our situation to those of the people around us (especially the child with the bloody towel clamped to his scalp, and the one who’d swallowed an earplug and couldn’t keep any food down since) I really did feel like we weren’t too badly off. Just call me a glass-half-full kind of person.

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