As my sister pointed out to me, my kids are lemons. “Didn’t you get the extended warranty on them??” she asked.
Tony says that extended warranties are for suckers. In this case, we totally should have. Or perhaps purchased some sort of Child Injury Insurance that pays Tony’s salary every time he has to take time off when one of our kids injures himself and ends up in the ER.
Last week, I posted about Keesadilla’s tooth. Well, the tooth ended up dying, turning grey, and wiggling in his mouth. If we could have just gotten the darn thing out ourselves, but that was not the case. The root was too long. So we managed to get an emergency appointment at the dental surgery clinic for Wednesday morning (6 days after the original break). Those 6 days and nights were unpleasant. Advil around the clock, alternating with Tylenol when the pain started kicking back in well before we could give him another dose. Not to mention night time, when the drugs would wear off while he slept, causing him to wake up sceaming in pain and it was all we could do to coax him into putting more medication in his mouth. One night, in fact, this process took two hours, during which iBean also woke up and thought it was morning what with all the noise, and Sashimi thought it would be great to start having full-on conversations with us while tending to his little brother’s screams.
Tony left work early on Tuesday, drove the boys to the city, 500 km away, went to sleep, woke up the next morning, brought Keesadilla to his appointment for 8:30 am, Kees was put under general anaesthetic at 9:15 am (by Tony’s cousin, who happened to be the anaesthesiologist at the clinic…small world), was awake again by 10:15 am, and the boys made the obligatory pit-stop at Toys’r’Us before leaving the city and being back home by supper.
Both boys slept like rocks last night.
Today, 19-toothed Keesadilla was back to his 3-year-old antics, and it was a hot day. We were invited to a friend’s house for the boys to play on their enormous inflatable water-spray-slide thing. It was seriously cool. Until Sashimi jumped from the top into the water, landed on his foot funny, and crawled out crying.
He would not put any weight on his foot. There was a distinct spot that was inflammed, and his foot was all red. The mom, who is a nurse practitioner, looked at it and when Sashimi was still complaining about it 15 minutes later, she told us we should go to the ER and have it looked at.
All I could think was: You have GOT to be FUCKING KIDDING ME.
After making arrangements for iBean and trying to get Keesadilla to stay with a sitter (he refused), the boys and I treked to the hospital. Again. Wasn’t I just there yesterday? Oh yeah, I have not told that story yet (that’s another post for another day).
I picke Sashimi up like a man carrying his bride over the threshold and put him in the car. I had a stroller in the trunk, so I figured that could be my make-shift wheelchair. After two hours in the ER, we had a verdict: a cracked growth plate in his foot. The crack did not go all the way through the bone, so it was not very visible on the x-ray (there were three people looking at it). Since we do not live anywhere near a pediatric hospital, the doctor told us that they did not have the right size of walking cast for Sashimi. They would have to make him one out of what they had.
He is casted from toes to half-way up his calf, although the cast only runs on the back of his leg. A tensor bandage wrapped around his leg holds the whole thing in place. They said that once it feels better, he can put weight on it and use crutches for extra support. Have you ever seen a 4-year-old on crutches? Let’s just say that their coordination skills are not developed enough to really use them properly. He tried and tried, but it was so much work he just collapsed into my arms and asked me to carry him back to his chair.
So for now, this means no more going for walks during the day, no park, no splash park, no pool, no running around outside. In July. It’s like that Simpsons’ episode where Bart breaks his leg and thinks Flanders murdered his wife. Only with not so much attitude.
Or maybe that will come.