Déjà vu

No one ever said life was fair.


How many times did my sister and I hear my mom say those words? These words echo in my head, and I've accepted this statement and learned to live with it.

This was our first true weekend of fall in north Florida, and the boys only entered the staleness of the house to eat and sleep. Yesterday they rode bikes and played football, their dad joining them for an afternoon throwing session, while our lab pup Zoey ran alongside. All William did was go out for a pass...

Zoey, running with William, was suddenly under his feet. William hit the ground in an ordinary fashion-- just as I've seen him fall hundreds of times. Suddenly there was yelling.


My elbow's out my elbow's out!


William NEVER cries wolf. I darted from the porch, and Vann was already to him, examining his right arm-- the one dislocated exactly two months ago (see Delusions in My Head). But William cradled his left! How could this be? No, life isn't fair.

We could see it. William knew it, and we did too. The end of his left radius was clearly amiss, leaving a strange crater in its place. Vann scooped him up and we headed for the bowels of the earth -- the ER at Tallahassee Memorial Hospital. We attempted the milder Urgent Care first, where William was doped with morphine and sent to the x-ray room. The first image showed that both the ulna and radius had dislocated. The doctor-on-call, who I wanted to personally strangle, ordered further images.

While I clutched William's shoulders, the x-ray tech wrenched William's arm onto the film, suddenly popping one misplaced bone back into place. William stifled a yelp, and then, "It's back in!" Yes indeed. However, the second film still showed the ulna twisted to the side. The doctor I would like to strangle grew confident, and proceeded to tell my 9-year-old to visualize his bone moving back into place while he yanked and twisted. William's face grew red, and then pale. I thought he would vomit. I thought I would vomit. We were promptly sent to the main ER for sedation.

One week ago in Tallahassee

William relaxed a bit in anticipation of his ketamine fix. After more waiting, William was doped, and his elbow was reduced, while a roomful of Tallahassee Community College EMT students watched and took notes.

What a day.
What a kid!

BMX Mom