Nothing says fun-filled-Friday like a trip to the ER.
I knew it was coming eventually. And I was pretty sure which one of my darlings would get the first trip.
And Momma was right. Although Leah did not need stitches, a cast, and hadn't fallen off anything, she wins the ER prize.
Turns out she needed the help of her big brother and two friends to get there.
It turns out they were playing "rescue" and taking turns pulling one person out of water, quicksand, a giant vat of peanut butter... or something. But when it was Leah's turn, the strength of a 5, 4 and 3-year-old on her little pudgy arm was too much. Or they got her at just the right angle. Dislocated elbow.
She came upstairs howling, grabbing her arm and climbed on me. I didn't see anything obvious, but she wasn't acting right. A quick call to my friend's hubby who is a doctor (SO helpful) confirmed what we feared.
Off to the ER we went.
The doctor tried to pop her elbow back in, but she was crying too much so he stopped. He ordered some Motrin for her to help with the pain and x-rays, just to be safe. As long as I didn't touch her arm, she was okay. She was really okay once I let her play Angry Birds. (Note to self: download kid games to iPod and/or phone BEFORE walking into a giant building where you'll have no cell signal to speak of. I had games before, but then the cell phone from you-know-where reared its ugly head and had to be wiped AND replaced. It was on the to-do list. Somewhere. Maybe.)
About an hour after the Motrin and 30 minutes after the x-rays, the doctor came back and popped her arm back into place. She cried and it took awhile before she would move it. Once the doc saw she could move it again, we were on our merry way.
Three hours, no bloodshed and I didn't have a nervous breakdown. And as long as we keep the pain meds on time, she'll be fine.
Until next time...
Showing posts with label illness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label illness. Show all posts
Friday, August 19, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
The Brickyard 400
I did something Sunday I never thought I would do.
I went to a NASCAR race without Hubby. Or his grandfather.
I still remember the first time I sat down to watch a race on TV with Hubby. It was the summer before our junior year of college and I was asking a lot of questions (as I tend to do) to try to understand what it was about racing that held his attention. I just thought it was a bunch of guys turning left forever.
Hubby has attended every Indianapolis 500 since he turned 13 and until now had only missed the inaugural Brickyard 400. His grandfather has been attending the 500 since the 1960s, and Hubby was the only one of his family who really got into racing, so has been at his side for years.
The following year I got to go to my first 500. I was hooked. There's something about being at the track, watching the cars whiz by at amazing speed and with the kind of high-pitched whine that the unruliest toddler can't rival. Helio Castronevez won that year, and famously climbed the fence.
Grandpa had enough clout to get a few more tickets so I could eventually go to the Brickyard as well. Hubby's favorite driver, Tony Stewart, won his first that year. The cars are so much brighter in person and if you close your eyes, you can feel your ribs vibrating when the cars drive past.
Every year, we get up early and head to breakfast. We talk about who's on the pole, who didn't qualify and I end up picking Grandpa's brain about the history of the race. The last few years, my brother-in-law has joined us as well.
I've frozen to death at the 500 and melted in the failed-tire-fiasco that was the 2008 Brickyard, when tires were blowing out left and right and they had to bring in the cars every 5 laps for new ones. I've seen 4 races pregnant, and wondered why I thought sitting in Indiana's 90-degree July heat was a good idea. I was keeping hydrated, but had to pee about every 10 laps. I saw Danica Patrick nearly become the first woman to win at Indy, when 250,000+ people were on their feet, cheering for a chance at history.
And the whole time, I had Hubby and Grandpa with me. I never met my grandfather, so he's as special to me as if he were a blood relative. But this year, after a terribly slow and painful walk into the track in May, Grandpa admitted his knees weren't up for the Brickyard this year. He's gonna talk to his doctor and see what he needs to do to be in top shape by the next 500. Can't let that nearly 50-year attendance streak die so easily.
Hubby stayed home with a mystery illness that we now know is an ulcer. Like HOME home. I drove to Indy without him. I couldn't believe that I was doing all the things we normally do on race day, just me and my brother-in-law. I was even more impressed that I remembered the back way into the neighborhood where we park, without needing my brother-in-law's GPS or the over-the-phone walk-through with a map in front of me that Hubby insisted on the night before. I couldn't tell you road names, but I knew exactly where I was going.
Hubby's cousin and her boyfriend used two of the tickets too. The four of us had fun, and maybe this was foreshadowing what is to come - the younger generation taking over. We probably won't wait until 13 before we take Nathaniel to his first race, if we have the opportunity. And I was kinda "in charge." I still feel like a kid a lot of the time, especially with family (never mind the fact that next month I'm turning th... thhh... well I can't say it, but that number after 29).
I texted Hubby throughout the race, knowing it pained him to be missing it, but I couldn't NOT turn to him when something happened. I had to have him to talk to.
And I hope I don't ever have to do that all again alone.
I still remember the first time I sat down to watch a race on TV with Hubby. It was the summer before our junior year of college and I was asking a lot of questions (as I tend to do) to try to understand what it was about racing that held his attention. I just thought it was a bunch of guys turning left forever.
Hubby has attended every Indianapolis 500 since he turned 13 and until now had only missed the inaugural Brickyard 400. His grandfather has been attending the 500 since the 1960s, and Hubby was the only one of his family who really got into racing, so has been at his side for years.
The following year I got to go to my first 500. I was hooked. There's something about being at the track, watching the cars whiz by at amazing speed and with the kind of high-pitched whine that the unruliest toddler can't rival. Helio Castronevez won that year, and famously climbed the fence.
Grandpa had enough clout to get a few more tickets so I could eventually go to the Brickyard as well. Hubby's favorite driver, Tony Stewart, won his first that year. The cars are so much brighter in person and if you close your eyes, you can feel your ribs vibrating when the cars drive past.
Every year, we get up early and head to breakfast. We talk about who's on the pole, who didn't qualify and I end up picking Grandpa's brain about the history of the race. The last few years, my brother-in-law has joined us as well.
I've frozen to death at the 500 and melted in the failed-tire-fiasco that was the 2008 Brickyard, when tires were blowing out left and right and they had to bring in the cars every 5 laps for new ones. I've seen 4 races pregnant, and wondered why I thought sitting in Indiana's 90-degree July heat was a good idea. I was keeping hydrated, but had to pee about every 10 laps. I saw Danica Patrick nearly become the first woman to win at Indy, when 250,000+ people were on their feet, cheering for a chance at history.
And the whole time, I had Hubby and Grandpa with me. I never met my grandfather, so he's as special to me as if he were a blood relative. But this year, after a terribly slow and painful walk into the track in May, Grandpa admitted his knees weren't up for the Brickyard this year. He's gonna talk to his doctor and see what he needs to do to be in top shape by the next 500. Can't let that nearly 50-year attendance streak die so easily.
Hubby stayed home with a mystery illness that we now know is an ulcer. Like HOME home. I drove to Indy without him. I couldn't believe that I was doing all the things we normally do on race day, just me and my brother-in-law. I was even more impressed that I remembered the back way into the neighborhood where we park, without needing my brother-in-law's GPS or the over-the-phone walk-through with a map in front of me that Hubby insisted on the night before. I couldn't tell you road names, but I knew exactly where I was going.
Hubby's cousin and her boyfriend used two of the tickets too. The four of us had fun, and maybe this was foreshadowing what is to come - the younger generation taking over. We probably won't wait until 13 before we take Nathaniel to his first race, if we have the opportunity. And I was kinda "in charge." I still feel like a kid a lot of the time, especially with family (never mind the fact that next month I'm turning th... thhh... well I can't say it, but that number after 29).
I texted Hubby throughout the race, knowing it pained him to be missing it, but I couldn't NOT turn to him when something happened. I had to have him to talk to.
And I hope I don't ever have to do that all again alone.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Waving the white flag
A plague descended on my house last weekend, while I wasn't looking. I have been fighting crazy allergy symptoms for a month now, so I figured that was it. I'm kinda getting used to being miserable.
Then Nathaniel started coughing.
And coughing. And coughing. With a crazy high fever. And then I got the crazy high fever. We were quite the pair.
We didn't leave the house Monday or Tuesday and spent a lot of time watching cartoons and laying on the couch. I have now seen the Imagination Movers in concert a dozen times. I can't ever get those hours back.
By Wednesday I figured we would both be feeling better.
I have never, ever been so wrong.
But as bad as I felt, I tried to drag myself through the shower to wash some of the stink off and get dressed for the day. (And by dressed I mean yoga pants and a sweatshirt. I know, a vision of loveliness at all times. That's how I roll.)
But every time I tried to stand up, the room started to spin and get fuzzy. I crawled out, wrapped in a towel and made my way to the bed, where I managed to get the phone to call Hubby without picking my head up off the pillow.
I'm sure he was thrilled to get a call 10 minutes after he got TO work telling him to jump in his car to drive 30 minutes BACK home. But the alternative would have been to leave the monkeys in charge of the zoo. No good can come from that.
It took every ounce of strength I had to shuffle downstairs, pour 2 cups of juice and 2 bowls of cereal and fill 2 animals' bowls before collapsing on the couch under the world's warmest and most awesomest quilt.
When Hubby walked in an hour later, I took said quilt and shuffled to our bed where it was quiet. The next thing I remember was looking at the clock that read 12:40 p.m. I haven't slept off a sick like that... well... I'm guessing middle school. I came downstairs for lunch and parked myself on the love seat. I proceeded to sleep through my darlings doing what they always do - everything at full volume.
Man, I needed that.
I thanked Hubby for rescuing me, which may seem unnecessary, but really, as a SAHM, there is nothing worse having well kids when you're sick. I don't get to cancel meetings and tell my bosses I'm sick. My "bosses" still expect 3 square meals, a minimum of 2 snacks, potty help or diaper changes, stories to be read, games to be played, and all in all, my undivided attention. When you can't lift your head upright without wanting to yak, that ain't happenin'.
Whenever I mention to other mom friends that one of my kids is coming down with something, they feel my pain and dread. Because there is no such thing as one person out of a house of four being the ONLY one to get sick.
Because now that Nathaniel and I are almost better, Leah has a fever. And a cough. We'll be couching and cartooning it tomorrow, too, to round out the week.
It'll be Daddy's turn to join us next.
Then Nathaniel started coughing.
And coughing. And coughing. With a crazy high fever. And then I got the crazy high fever. We were quite the pair.
 |
| This was me. Minus the teddy bear. Maybe. |
By Wednesday I figured we would both be feeling better.
I have never, ever been so wrong.
But as bad as I felt, I tried to drag myself through the shower to wash some of the stink off and get dressed for the day. (And by dressed I mean yoga pants and a sweatshirt. I know, a vision of loveliness at all times. That's how I roll.)
But every time I tried to stand up, the room started to spin and get fuzzy. I crawled out, wrapped in a towel and made my way to the bed, where I managed to get the phone to call Hubby without picking my head up off the pillow.
I'm sure he was thrilled to get a call 10 minutes after he got TO work telling him to jump in his car to drive 30 minutes BACK home. But the alternative would have been to leave the monkeys in charge of the zoo. No good can come from that.
It took every ounce of strength I had to shuffle downstairs, pour 2 cups of juice and 2 bowls of cereal and fill 2 animals' bowls before collapsing on the couch under the world's warmest and most awesomest quilt.
When Hubby walked in an hour later, I took said quilt and shuffled to our bed where it was quiet. The next thing I remember was looking at the clock that read 12:40 p.m. I haven't slept off a sick like that... well... I'm guessing middle school. I came downstairs for lunch and parked myself on the love seat. I proceeded to sleep through my darlings doing what they always do - everything at full volume.
Man, I needed that.
I thanked Hubby for rescuing me, which may seem unnecessary, but really, as a SAHM, there is nothing worse having well kids when you're sick. I don't get to cancel meetings and tell my bosses I'm sick. My "bosses" still expect 3 square meals, a minimum of 2 snacks, potty help or diaper changes, stories to be read, games to be played, and all in all, my undivided attention. When you can't lift your head upright without wanting to yak, that ain't happenin'.
Whenever I mention to other mom friends that one of my kids is coming down with something, they feel my pain and dread. Because there is no such thing as one person out of a house of four being the ONLY one to get sick.
Because now that Nathaniel and I are almost better, Leah has a fever. And a cough. We'll be couching and cartooning it tomorrow, too, to round out the week.
It'll be Daddy's turn to join us next.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)