Rocco can now say that he's the first Van Voorst kid to have broken a bone. (Or, at least, the first one to have it verified that his bone is, in fact, broken - I'm pretty sure Atticus broke his toe once, and he built himself a little skate out of Duplos and skated around the house for a couple of weeks because he couldn't put any pressure on it.)
Monday night, the boys were playing a game in which (unbeknownst to or sanctioned by us) they were jumping off the beds. It started on the toddler mattress, then moved to Finneas' bottom bunk, then eventually up to Atticus' top bunk. I think you can see where this is going. Unfortunately, Rocco didn't have that kind of foresight, and he jumped anyway and landed funny on his hand.
He cried a bit, and came upstairs to tell us what had happened. When asked where it hurt, he just kept being vague about it. "Kind of everywhere." He could bend his fingers, grasp things, bend his elbow, roll his shoulder. He headed back down and kept playing happily (a different game, to be clear). He went to bed, and slept fine.
When he woke up yesterday, he said his arm was still sore, and it was clear he was babying it - he was having a hard time getting himself dressed and getting his shoes on without pain. But otherwise, he was acting totally normal, so we thought it was most likely a sprain. I called the nurse, and she didn't seem overly concerned or feel that it was urgent to get him in. So we spent our morning as planned: hanging out with a college gal, dropping her off at class, and then heading to Hobby Lobby.
But while we were at Hobby Lobby, it was clear he was just kind of letting it hang funny at his side, and it was beginning to swell. He started asking to go see a doctor.
So a friend came over in the afternoon while Rocco, Juniper and I headed to the pediatrician's office to have it looked at. The doctor ordered x-rays of his whole arm, since he wasn't really complaining of localized pain, other than a little tenderness around the elbow. She couldn't tell exactly where the injury was at, but it seemed like it might be right above the elbow. (She was shocked he was so chill about having it moved or touched - he was seriously so happy the entire time she was checking him.)
No surprise there. This buddy is seriously the most easy-going kid.
So we headed over to radiology, and after getting the results back... sure enough, he has fractured his arm. We'll be going to the orthopedic pediatrician later today, presumably to have a cast put on, and I'll have to get more details then. I'm still not exactly sure where the break is (the nurse didn't explain much on the phone, and the kids were running crazy while I was trying to listen).
Poor brudder. He is doing amazingly well, all things considered. He's running and playing like normal, not really ever complaining other than to make sure we don't forget that he fractured his arm. "Do I put on my shirt on over my broken arm?" "This is my broken arm." "I'm just going to sit down with my broken arm." I think it's more a badge of honor than anything. It makes him feel both special and grown up, two things little boys crave more than almost anything else.
Luckily all his siblings have also made it their mission to take care of him and cheer him up. (All except Callista, whose mission had to be aborted when she fell and gashed her head open on the coffee table last night. Yesterday was a rough day.) It's clear he's very loved.
I'll keep you posted with any follow-up information!
1 comment :
scars are tattoos with better stories and broken bones are badges of honor, especially when broken when being brave (even if a little ill-advised)
"a bold act may prove to be a blunder. nevertheless it is a laudable error, not to be regarded on the same footing as others. happy the army where ill-timed boldness occurs frequently; it is a luxuriant weed, but indicates the richness of the soil.” - Clausewitz, MCDP
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