My broken winged boy

I often think of my life in terms of "This time last week (or month, or year, or 5, 10, etc. years ago) I was..." and think of all that's happened since that time. This time last week I was looking forward to the Swap and meeting Jenny Hart and finishing a bunch of commissions. I certainly wasn't expecting to get a call from Sage's day camp supervisor that he had fallen out of a tree and broken his arm. That's what happened last Friday and suddenly we found ourselves on an impromptu field trip to the emergency room in Burbank.

There was no denying it was broken. Caution: If you are squeamish, click away now.














Ouch. Arm bones aren't supposed to bend like that.

or that.

So after 5 hours, several needles, and a couple unsuccessful attempts to straighten it, including this barbaric-looking device,


we left with just a splint and a popsicle and some codeine and instructions to let it rest for a day and then go to Children's Hospital to see an orthopedic surgeon.

So Sunday morning we packed a bag of distractions and went for Round Two.

Which took 7 hours, several x-rays, and a scary 15 minutes of holding my sedated boy (his eyes were open and darting around, which was eerie) while a doctor yanked and twisted and wrestled and popped it back into place, then quickly sculpted a cast around it. The nurse warned me he might be a little loopy for a while. When the sedative started to wear off Sage looked into my eyes and shouted, "ALIENS!" then looked at the doctor and nurse and shouted "ALIENS! ALIENS!" (Later he told me it was because we all had 10 eyeballs.) He also said, "Mommy?" (he never calls me mommy anymore) and I said "Yes?" and he said "I love you so much." and then, "Please stop kissing me."

Erik was outside the room with McKenna during this time and only got an occasional glance through a tiny window. It's hard to entertain a toddler in an emergency room, but we did it.

Long story short, he's fine, though he can't swim or climb things for 8 weeks. Ouch. This is going to make for a different kind of summer.

Of course I had to make his sling a little more stylin'. And I was honored to be the first to sign his cast:

and draw on it:

And, like mother, like son, when life gives you crap, make crafts! He took the splint they made for him at the first ER:

And made it into an alligator.