Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time. With two boys who love to wrestle and play sports, I was expecting some injuries. I just assumed it would be later in life. After all, Brock is 9 and still hasn't had any major injuries, or even stitches. But Tyler broke our lucky streak. Wednesday at the church, while I was setting up the Gym for New Beginnings, Tyler pulled a small round table over on himself. It landed on his right hand. I've never been so happy that he's a lefty. He informed me the next day he was pretending to swing from the table like Curious George. I just laughed, because that is so Tyler. He is obsessed with that monkey.
There was a lot of blood, but it stopped fairly quickly. My concern was over the need for stitches. Doug rushed him home, and spent the next several hours cleaning him up. It took so long because Tyler refused to let anyone touch him. So he cleaned out his own wounds with hydrogen peroxide and a Q-tip. Wish I had a picture of that, because - again - that is so Tyler. Always needing to be in control.
That night he was bandaged and sleeping. I had abandoned any worry over the need for stitches. His wounds would be impossible to stitch. Then it occurred to me - there was a good chance his little fingers could be broken. Sure enough, the next morning, one of his fingers was completely black and blue. So I took him in to the doctor.
Thankfully, the P.A. was a woman. Tyler and his fear of people, especially men. The fact that she was pretty did not go unnoticed by my little charmer, and they immediately won each other over. He told her all about the accident, and how he cleaned his cuts all by himself.
He never talks to people. Especially strangers.
Then he let her squeeze all over his wrist and fingers and check to make sure the injuries didn't extend past his fingers. He wouldn't even let me touch him to put a band-aid on. All he told her was "that hurts" when she was touching the bad fingers. No tears. No screaming. Stoic and calm, as if she were squeezing someone else's fingers.
Due to the bruising, she assumed at least one finger was broken, so she sent us over to the hospital for an x-ray. Again, Tyler charmed the nurses, collecting stickers from everyone he saw. His only complaint was that he didn't get to see the picture of his bones.
Twenty minutes after the call confirming that two of his fingers were indeed broken, the P.A. called back to say that the Orthopedic Surgeon she had been consulting with wanted to see us immediately. So we dropped Brock off at a neighbor's and went back around the corner (it's so nice living by the hospital). After a very long 70 minutes in the waiting room, during which Tyler was an absolute angel, we were with the doctor.
Tyler finally got to see his x-rays. Two fractures. One on the tip of his ring finger, and one just above the middle knuckle of his middle finger. Both of them so small, the doctor could barely see them, so he suggested a cast.
Two more nurses came, only to be charmed by the man of the hour. They were shocked at how calm he was, and laughed as he told them all about Curious George. George once needed a cast on his leg, and Tyler was excited to be even more like George. He told the doctor he was glad the cast wasn't on his other hand, because he wouldn't have been able to play Wii.
Wouldn't that have been tragic.
So three weeks in the cast. Not bad. I offered to take him home and rest, but he wanted to get Brock and go straight to Daddy's basketball game. So we did. I taught him the golf clap so he wouldn't hurt his hand. He got a kick out of that. Then he ran around the gym when the game was over, dribbling, jumping off bleachers - as if there were no broken fingers and we hadn't spent the past 6 hours with various doctors.
Nothing can slow that kid down.
Our friends showed up later that night to deliver Pizza and Ice Cream and Pop. What a great place we live in!
As we tucked the kids in, I proceeded to explain that Tyler wouldn't be able to climb down the ladder off the top bunk in the morning. He proceeded to show me just how wrong I was, using his elbow and his good hand and both feet. Maybe he really is a monkey. Brock just started laughing, and Tyler said, "Yeah, I know. I'm Super Boy."
