My cell phone shows a missed call from Preschool at 9:19am Friday morning; I was on the phone with my boss because I typically work from home on Fridays for My employer. Our son had thrown up earlier in the week and I had gone to get him only to discover it was a case of the food just going down the wrong way. I thought I’d let it go to voice mail, find a break in the conversation with my boss to let him know I needed to return their call and I’d be on about my business.
Within a minute, my home phone rang. It was Preschool. I interrupted my boss on the phone to tell him I probably should take the call and that I’d call him right back. The director said our son had fallen and was in pain so I needed to head over there without delay.
Now I don’t know about anyone else who works from home, but here’s the scenario for me that day. I had on a t-shirt with no bra underneath, no shoes or socks. I had on clean clothes and fortunately had taken a shower that morning so while my hair was washed, I hadn’t combed it by that point. I liked to hold the basic hygiene off until 10 or 10:30 usually when I was ready for a mid-morning break.
I could hear my mother’s voice in my ear about always being prepared to go to the hospital. She oughta know; by this point she was also in the hospital since January 22nd. She originally had been admitted for a ruptured appendix, which turned into a second operation when the sepsis spread to her lungs. And as life sometimes happens, I had found out the afternoon of February 14th, the day before, that the tumor they had removed from her bladder was cancer.
Back to our son. It was 9:20 in the morning and the director was telling me our son was hurt. I was concerned enough to think to put on a bra in case we ended up at the hospital, so looking back there must’ve been a sense of urgency in her voice (she is a very calm woman!) but I do remember also thinking I should make sure I had a Sudoku book with me in case we sat in the waiting room at Dr. Garza’s office for a stand-by appointment.
My cell phone shows I called my boss back at 9:21 and told him I had a family emergency and I would probably be gone for the rest of the day but I thought we had what we needed for next week’s meeting.
I got over there and parked close and went inside. It wasn’t just the director waiting on me; the assistant director (assistant director) and His teacher (his primary teacher) were also there. And he was shrieking like I have never heard a person before. Ever.
Okay, no visit to Dr. Garza’s. We should go to the ER, right? I was lacking in sleep from worry about my mom and my inner voice said don’t make too many decisions right now. So when they asked what I wanted to do – call an ambulance or drive him, take someone with me or not, etc. I told them I probably wasn’t in the place to make decisions so just use their best judgment and I’d go along.
I ended up driving with His teacher next to our son in the back seat. It was obvious from the start that I couldn’t get him in his car seat so I was scared to death to drive him but as it turned out, there were no problems.
I’m sure they probably told me at some point that he’d fallen from the playground equipment but I was too frazzled to keep those details in my head. As we were about to head to the ER, they asked which one I was going to. Let’s see…Willowbrook Methodist would be my preference but I didn’t think our pediatrician had privileges there. My second choice was the new hospital off Spring-Cypress but that wasn’t very close. Cy-Fair it was.
We found a parking spot up close and headed to sign in. they were pretty concerned that I didn’t have his social security number memorized. Bummer dude – please fix my kid’s leg.
The assistant director had come to pick up his teacher to take her back, so by the time we got to triage (there was only one person ahead of us in the ER) I was on my own with a child, a purse and lots of questions. How much did he weigh? I dunno; he’s in 3T clothes. I knew my husband would know because I remembered that he had weighed him just earlier in the week for some reason but they didn’t think we needed to bother with getting the specifics.
I took a wild stab and said 30 pounds. It wasn’t long before we were back in an examining room so while we were waiting for the doctor, I called my husband; that was 9:48am. The director had called him but he didn’t pick up on the need to get over there, but he headed over at that point.
I sent a text message to the trainer – I can’t meet you at lunch. I sent a text message to my brother – heads up that we probably have a kink in the family schedule now.
The doctor came in and looked at his leg. Apparently it was swollen. News to me; even my husband said it was 2-3 times the size it should be but I think I blocked that out. I saw the look on the doctor’s face though so I asked. Is it broken? I already knew the answer and so did he. Yes. Let’s get him in for some x-rays.
In the meantime, I called back to Preschool at 10:09 to make sure I knew how he had fallen to make sure there was no chance we needed to x-ray his arms, etc. or needed anything done to check for a concussion. Amy was the teacher who said she saw him fall.
She said she recalled that he wasn’t very high from the ground, and that he was climbing a rope ladder when a friend behind him called out his name. He turned around to see who it was and that’s when he lost his footing. Somehow his foot got caught so that it was twisted around the side rope instead of him just falling down to the ground. It was almost a week later when My husband went to check out the particulars that he said the sides were made of chains (we thought it was a nylon rope ladder with wood dowels for the steps; instead of nylon it was chain link).
They gave him some codeine which had no effect on him. By the time they were ready to wheel him down to radiology, my husband was there. He stayed outside while I went in with him for the x-rays. He was in so much pain that the only way he knew how to handle it was to call everyone “Stupid” and say nice things like “I hate you!” as they tried to move his leg into position to get an x-ray.
They got one. They needed 3. We all gave up and went back to his room to wait for the results which didn’t take long. The doctor called me over to look at them while my husband stayed with our son.
Oh. My. Gosh. His femur bone (thigh bone and trust me I couldn’t have named that bone before this but I was suddenly a femur expert) was split in 2 vertically.
How? It was literally split from where it connects to the hip bone all the way down to where it connects to the knee. Amy said he hadn’t fallen very far so first of all why was the break the entire length of the bone and second of all, why was it a vertical break instead of a horizontal break.
Don’t read this next paragraph if you’re squeamish.
I warned you. You’re still reading aren’t you? When he turned around to see which friend had called out his name, he lost his footing and his right foot had managed to wrap itself around that chain link that was part of the rope ladder (which was more of a chain link ladder if that makes sense). As his body was quickly headed to the ground from the force of gravity, the caught foot was forcing his leg up. The force of his leg being pulled in 2 different directions literally split it in two.
I told you not to read that. It kept me awake for days as my mind re-lived that over. And over. And over. The doctors all heard different versions of that based on additional info we got as time went on, but we pieced it all together. That’s why when Amy said he hadn’t fallen far; it didn’t really matter because it wasn’t the point of hitting the ground that broke it. By the time his body landed on the ground, the damage was done.
the doctor at Cy-Fair’s ER said we needed to transport him to the ER at Texas Children’s so before long, they had an IV in his arm to get some morphine in him, and I’m sure also in case he needed anything for the road trip. They put a splint on his leg that was pretty cool. Some sort of space age looking shiny Reynolds Wrap stuff that once it was perforated, molded around his leg.
That meant getting his leg straight though, a memory of which I’d just as soon forget. Kick in morphine, kick in!
It went from his ankle to just about the bottom of his pelvic bone. That was a big splint!
We came up with a plan that I would ride in the ambulance with him, my husband would pick up our daughter early from school and meet us there. I called her school at 10:58 to let them know of the situation. I called Preschool at 11:01 with the same scoop. And for good measure, I called my boss at 11:01 but he didn’t pick up. Isn’t it nuts what people think of when they’re in an emergency?
I needed to be back at work on Tuesday because on Thursday of that next week I had a flight to go to Indiana to help take care of my mom; the kids were all taking shifts.
I gave him a list of things to bring with him. His favorite Spiderman blanket. A couple of toys. The a/c adapter for my cell phone so I could keep it charged up. A change of clothes. For good measure, when he showed up at the hospital, he had even thrown in a hairbrush, tooth brush and toothpaste, PJ’s – the whole 9 yards.
I’d never been to the ER at TCH. I know the Clinical Care building fairly well. I can find the ATM and McDonald’s in the Abercrombie building, and I knew where they draw blood in West Tower. I told him he was on his own to try and find us. And we would deal with my car later.
I admit, I did give some thought to taking pictures before they put the splint on to document the story for him. That would be cruel though because the never-ending piercing shrieking was…well…never ending. But once we got in the ambulance and he was comfortable (the morphine had kicked in), game on. Thank you camera phone.
It was noon; I called my boss from the ambulance to let him know the situation. I sent a text message to my friend my friend.
A few things about being in the back of an ambulance in case you haven’t ever done this. There’s no seat belt for passengers, just a long bench. How crazy is that? I kept looking out the back window to make sure the car behind us was keeping their distance. I watched as we headed down Jones to 290, to 45 South, to 59 South to 288, and finally to Fannin. We passed MD Anderson so I knew we were close.
The guy in the back of the ambulance with me had broken nearly every bone in his body and spent the next 45 minutes explaining each event to us in minute detail. At least it made the time pass by, but I would’ve preferred to hear about the presidential election or something non-pain related instead.
They knew where we were going (I think ER is in West Tower but I’m not sure I could prove it). The triage nurse asked for his weight and the guy from the back of the ambulance said 13.6 kilograms. Okay. I missed the fact that his bed in the ambulance had one of those things that weigh him like my mom’s hospital bed had where she was. At least that eased my mind that we finally had an accurate count of his weight since by now we knew he’d have a cast on, and possibly be in traction.
We settled into the ER room and said goodbye to the EMTs. We waited. You know how that goes. Our son was so hungry and so thirsty; he hadn’t had anything to eat since 7am. I was hungry and it was 3pm. I went down to find the guy with the cart that has sandwiches on it (finally my knowledge of the West Tower was doing me some good) and ate it down there. Then I threw it back up.
I called some people before I went back to his room. I called my brother, who was at the doctor’s office with his own son for a medical issue. I called the trainer to tell her I wouldn’t see her Saturday morning. I called my friend to see if we had any options to have our daughter spend some quality time with them for the weekend.
I did not call my mom. I was going to have to at some point, but not until I found my composure. I was glad I had called her before 8 in the morning so at least I was able to talk to her that day.
There’s not a lot to report from the TCH ER. My husband and our daughter did find us. Eventually I sent them back home when I realized it would be hours in the ER and that wasn’t fair to our daughter. Since it wasn’t a life threatening situation, I said head on home and rest up. They eventually wheeled him down for the other 2 x-rays (I was the technician’s assistant which should’ve told me right then and there how short they were on help).
Residents pretty are the doctors of choice at the TCH ER. They kept him pumped up on morphine. They came and talked to us to say he might get just a cast, or he might be in traction depending on the x-ray results. Finally they said it would just be a cast, but it was a little bigger than the splint.
Now I have to say, I was pretty calm up until this point. When you’re 4 and you weigh less than 40 pounds or so, and you break your femur bone, they put you in something called a spica cast. She told me the cast would run from his chest to his toes on his right leg, and almost half of his left leg. Almost his entire chest would be in a cast. All of his right leg. Half of his left leg.
Hmmm…
Let’s pause for a moment while Barbara passes out. Not really. I didn’t pass out. But I did have to catch my breath and remind myself this was not the time and place to cry.
I explained to her that this wasn’t really working into my plans. See, my mom’s in the hospital in Indiana and I’m in Texas right now. I’m supposed to go up there next week. Do I need to cancel my plans? She was looking at me like I was from outer space but of course she’s been through this a hundred times. Me? Not so much. This was my first go-round with a broken leg. Perhaps it would be a good idea to make alternate arrangements for my mom.
They also told me there were 25 surgeries ahead of him in the ER. My choices were either emergency surgery at 4am, or scheduled surgery at 8am. Hmm…the first one sounds like the doctor will have to come in early so that means less sleep for him which means he won’t be as attentive or happy to see us. I’ll take door # 2 Bob. 8am. You’ll keep him doped up on morphine in the meantime if I do that, right? Yes. Sign here on the dotted line.
He weighs 30 pounds, right? I told them that was just a guess on my part back from the Cy-Fair ER triage. Turns out that little fact followed us around the rest of the visit. What did I learn? Weigh your children every day.
They were nearly on drive-by for rooms available, but someone was being released from the 11th floor which is orthopedics, so we wouldn’t have to spend the night in an ER room after all. By this time it was 5pm. Then it was 6pm. Finally it was 7pm and we were in a room.
It was way past when dietary would bring him a tray but as I recall, the nurse scrounged up something for him since he could eat until midnight but nothing to drink or eat after midnight. That meant, of course, that starting around 12:01am he declared his never-ending thirst and never stopped asking for a drink up until they wheeled him in for surgery.
Do you think the nurse that night gave him “just a sip”? Yes. Do you think he threw up post-op? Yes he did. Do I think those 2 events are related? Yes I do. Nurses are human just like the rest of us. Some are very clinical and not very sympathetic. Some are too sympathetic and not clinical enough (like the one that gave him water). Somewhere in the middle would’ve been one that would’ve found a swab and let me rub his lips to keep them moist.
I’m going to miss going to church on Easter, aren’t I? I missed it 3 years ago when Dad died during Holy Week and Sunday morning was the only time we could get a flight (in and out of Paducah, Kentucky no less). He won’t get to go on an Easter egg hunt! I told Nola already to spread the word weeks ago that we would have the family egg hunt at our house and now our son won’t be able to do it. Is it selfish to cancel it? I don’t need to make that decision yet.
He wanted to talk to his dad, so we called home at 10pm just to say hi.
The first night ended with me in bed, lying on his left side since his right leg was broken. Wiping away his tears, holding his hand. Him crying, me crying.
