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Okay just so you know up front, my son is okay. I just gotta share what happened last night at the ER. I don't know if I should laugh or cry or get really angry about it.
To set this up, my son (age 15) was skate boarding last friday at his father's house. He, like many kids fell and hurt his hip and wrist. Now this kid has fractured both his wrists...each of them three times. Yes folks, six broken wrists and in the last few years only sprains. Thank goodness. He has had a good deal of coordination issues as a young boy and needed Occupational Therapy but as he is sprouting into quite the young man that has been getting much better. Okay so on to my story.
So, he came home to me on Sunday and said his wrist was sore. I had him ice it, took a good look at it, gave him some ibuprofen with the instructions if the pain got worse he was to tell me. He hates...oh did I mention he aboslutely hates doctors and especially the ER. He has had so many visits due to Asthma and Pneumonia as well.
Anyway, he comes home Monday after school saying his wrist really hurts that the kids knocked him around in the halls a bit so I suggest we go to the doctor.
"No! Mom, Please, no"
"But what if it is broken."
"It's a sprain, I promise Mom, I would know if it was broken."
"Okay well let's at least get a wrist guard or splint on it and immobilize and take some more ibuprofen."
"K, anything but please don't make me go to the doctor."
So we go to Rite Aid, I buy a nice splint/wrist guard. We go to Beans and Brews and I buy the kid McDonalds. *holds a hand up* wait, wait, he loves McDonalds. Don't ask me why.
He feels much better and goes to bed without much complaint.
My son comes home from school yesterday saying his hand is aching so I give him something to eat, and some pain relievers because he can't take them to school with him. But by around ten last night he comes downstairs and he is a pale as a sheet. Now he is also suffering from allergy season so i am making sure he is breathing okay and he is hold his wrist.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"No, Mom. It really hurts."
I was about to run an errand up to his sister's apartment so I tell him to come with me. Once we get there he is hugging his sister and saying,
"Hilary, how bad do you think this is?"
Now all three of my kids have had weak wrists so they commiserate. To my amazement, this tough 15 year old puts his head on his sister's shoulder (he is about 5'9" now and she is a whopping 5'2".) and she hugs him. Yeah it was one of those lump in the throat moments for me as a mom.
"Nah, Bud...if it was broke, it wouldn't hurt this bad." She says.
"Are you sure Hilary? Cos that sounds like an old wives's tale." I ask.
"Well that is what Dad always says." She replies.
Okay that was my first clue. So we get in the car because it is now it is cruising on half past ten at night and he has school in the morning. But on the way home, he is really in agony and says,
"Mom my hand feels so cold and I have shooting pains into my fingers."
I felt his hand. It was warm. Yeah okay, I freaked.
"Right, we are going to the ER."
"No, Mom. The money...."
"Whoa is that what this is about? The money?"
"Well, I know it is alot for xrays."
"Steve, this isn't about money, this is about you and being okay. It is only money."
Now we get to the ER. We walk in, wait a few minutes and get taken to a nurse. She won't let me say a word. My son has to answer her questions. I get a bit twitchy because I hate how they treat everyone like we are all child abusers these days thanks to the ones who are. When he tells her he did it on Friday. She looks up at me accusingly:
"You mean you waited this long to come in?"
I explain the situation to her that he and I thought it was getting better that he hurt it at his Dad's house on Friday, I didn't see him till Sunday and the minute I thought it was not getting better and his pain was definitive and escalating I brought him in.
"oh, that's good then."
We get taken to a small room. If you have been to an ER or watched it on TV, you know the one with the small cot and a curtain. We are sharing the isle called Hall 1 & 2. The guy in the bed next to my son is a guy in his mid-thirties with down syndrome and his wonderfully loving mother is scared to pieces. I look at her with a smile that I hope is reassuring.
"Asthma." She says. "He can't breathe."
"He'll be okay." I reply. "You got him here in time." She looks relieved and grateful.
I am thinking about now, where is the hospital staff meant to reassure her? A male nurse walks by, sees my son.
"What'd ya do Bud?"
My son grins:
"Skateboarding ...last friday..."
The nurse looks at me:
"You only brought him in now?"
Again I explain the entire story---"Oh, well yes, that's reasonable. Someone will help you soon and take you to x-ray. And Bud no skateboarding for awhile, K?" Then he leaves.
Now, we soon discover that Hall we are in is next to the lounge and the supply closet so every time someone comes by they ask us what happened!
The lady and her son get taken away and they replace a person who looks to me like he could easily be a stunt double for Liam Neison and his arm is oozing some scary looking stuff. My son looks at me and mouths the words, "oh no this is gonna be gross." I give him my best, shhhh, look and we both crack up. Okay so we were laughing at a guy's puss infested arm at midnight. We had to do something to relieve the stress of a hospital ER filled with wounded or sick people. Finally, the doctor comes over. Very nice amiable woman. Very efficient and competent looking.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Miner. What happened Bud?" At this point I want to know how they know I call my son Bud but I look at my son who is grinning from ear to ear. Keep in mind we have answered this question, and I kid you not, five times already.
"Can you guess?"
"Um, no?"
"Sure you can, guess." And he is grinning. I realize, oh my word, he is proud of his injury and I can't help but smile. It was a milestone for this 15 year old boy who has had so many health problems that he felt like a geek or a dork most of his life now. He didn't see her peek at his chart and I wasn't about to tell him.
"Skateboarding?"
"YEP!"
"When did this happen?"
"Friday at my Dad's house..." Oh yay! She turns around and glares at me.
"Friday and you waited till today to bring him in?"
So there I go again and I rehearse the same story over to her as I did the FIVE other people prior to her and tell her that the pain pills weren't working either.
"What kind of pain pills?"
"You know, tylenol, aspirin, ibuprofen."
She gives a relieved look and says,
"Oh well yes, I can see why you waited then. Someone will come soon and take you to x-ray."
The thought crossed my mind however briefly to say,
"Yeah I gave him Phentermine." You all are corrupting me now.
THEN, she starts working on Puss-Man as my son started calling him. They didn't even draw the curtain. My son is freaking out quietly pleading with me to draw the curtain and I am telling him I can't cos it would be rude. So I get up and walk over and start rubbing his arm above where it hurts and patting his head.
"Mom, I'm not dying."
"Well at least you forgot about Puss-man there for a minute."
"Oh sure, remind me why don't you." And we both giggle out of control.
In the end they did his x-ray and the doctor comes back and explains they can't tell for sure if he broke his growth plate or not but in a week if it isn't better we need to see a specialist. They splint it and we get subjected to ONE MORE questioning of the nurse who checked us out.
My son and I about ran out of the ER. We get in the car and he says:
"And you wonder why I hate hospitals and doctors. It felt like they were gonna call child services or something cos we waited." He paused and then added,
"Oh and by the way Mom, I'm going to school tomorrow."
"Bud, don't say things like that when I am driving. I almost passed out."
I figure, he can't wait to show his splint and tell all his new found skateboarding buddies that he might have cracked his growth plate while doing tricks on his board.
Me? I want to ring someone's neck because today, parents get told that they shouldn't bring their kids into the doctor for a few days and then when you wait, they practically accuse you of neglect.
Okay, that is the end of my rant. Hope you found it some what amusing.
Thanks for listening yall.
To set this up, my son (age 15) was skate boarding last friday at his father's house. He, like many kids fell and hurt his hip and wrist. Now this kid has fractured both his wrists...each of them three times. Yes folks, six broken wrists and in the last few years only sprains. Thank goodness. He has had a good deal of coordination issues as a young boy and needed Occupational Therapy but as he is sprouting into quite the young man that has been getting much better. Okay so on to my story.
So, he came home to me on Sunday and said his wrist was sore. I had him ice it, took a good look at it, gave him some ibuprofen with the instructions if the pain got worse he was to tell me. He hates...oh did I mention he aboslutely hates doctors and especially the ER. He has had so many visits due to Asthma and Pneumonia as well.
Anyway, he comes home Monday after school saying his wrist really hurts that the kids knocked him around in the halls a bit so I suggest we go to the doctor.
"No! Mom, Please, no"
"But what if it is broken."
"It's a sprain, I promise Mom, I would know if it was broken."
"Okay well let's at least get a wrist guard or splint on it and immobilize and take some more ibuprofen."
"K, anything but please don't make me go to the doctor."
So we go to Rite Aid, I buy a nice splint/wrist guard. We go to Beans and Brews and I buy the kid McDonalds. *holds a hand up* wait, wait, he loves McDonalds. Don't ask me why.
He feels much better and goes to bed without much complaint.
My son comes home from school yesterday saying his hand is aching so I give him something to eat, and some pain relievers because he can't take them to school with him. But by around ten last night he comes downstairs and he is a pale as a sheet. Now he is also suffering from allergy season so i am making sure he is breathing okay and he is hold his wrist.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"No, Mom. It really hurts."
I was about to run an errand up to his sister's apartment so I tell him to come with me. Once we get there he is hugging his sister and saying,
"Hilary, how bad do you think this is?"
Now all three of my kids have had weak wrists so they commiserate. To my amazement, this tough 15 year old puts his head on his sister's shoulder (he is about 5'9" now and she is a whopping 5'2".) and she hugs him. Yeah it was one of those lump in the throat moments for me as a mom.
"Nah, Bud...if it was broke, it wouldn't hurt this bad." She says.
"Are you sure Hilary? Cos that sounds like an old wives's tale." I ask.
"Well that is what Dad always says." She replies.
Okay that was my first clue. So we get in the car because it is now it is cruising on half past ten at night and he has school in the morning. But on the way home, he is really in agony and says,
"Mom my hand feels so cold and I have shooting pains into my fingers."
I felt his hand. It was warm. Yeah okay, I freaked.
"Right, we are going to the ER."
"No, Mom. The money...."
"Whoa is that what this is about? The money?"
"Well, I know it is alot for xrays."
"Steve, this isn't about money, this is about you and being okay. It is only money."
Now we get to the ER. We walk in, wait a few minutes and get taken to a nurse. She won't let me say a word. My son has to answer her questions. I get a bit twitchy because I hate how they treat everyone like we are all child abusers these days thanks to the ones who are. When he tells her he did it on Friday. She looks up at me accusingly:
"You mean you waited this long to come in?"
I explain the situation to her that he and I thought it was getting better that he hurt it at his Dad's house on Friday, I didn't see him till Sunday and the minute I thought it was not getting better and his pain was definitive and escalating I brought him in.
"oh, that's good then."
We get taken to a small room. If you have been to an ER or watched it on TV, you know the one with the small cot and a curtain. We are sharing the isle called Hall 1 & 2. The guy in the bed next to my son is a guy in his mid-thirties with down syndrome and his wonderfully loving mother is scared to pieces. I look at her with a smile that I hope is reassuring.
"Asthma." She says. "He can't breathe."
"He'll be okay." I reply. "You got him here in time." She looks relieved and grateful.
I am thinking about now, where is the hospital staff meant to reassure her? A male nurse walks by, sees my son.
"What'd ya do Bud?"
My son grins:
"Skateboarding ...last friday..."
The nurse looks at me:
"You only brought him in now?"
Again I explain the entire story---"Oh, well yes, that's reasonable. Someone will help you soon and take you to x-ray. And Bud no skateboarding for awhile, K?" Then he leaves.
Now, we soon discover that Hall we are in is next to the lounge and the supply closet so every time someone comes by they ask us what happened!
The lady and her son get taken away and they replace a person who looks to me like he could easily be a stunt double for Liam Neison and his arm is oozing some scary looking stuff. My son looks at me and mouths the words, "oh no this is gonna be gross." I give him my best, shhhh, look and we both crack up. Okay so we were laughing at a guy's puss infested arm at midnight. We had to do something to relieve the stress of a hospital ER filled with wounded or sick people. Finally, the doctor comes over. Very nice amiable woman. Very efficient and competent looking.
"Hi, I'm Dr. Miner. What happened Bud?" At this point I want to know how they know I call my son Bud but I look at my son who is grinning from ear to ear. Keep in mind we have answered this question, and I kid you not, five times already.
"Can you guess?"
"Um, no?"
"Sure you can, guess." And he is grinning. I realize, oh my word, he is proud of his injury and I can't help but smile. It was a milestone for this 15 year old boy who has had so many health problems that he felt like a geek or a dork most of his life now. He didn't see her peek at his chart and I wasn't about to tell him.
"Skateboarding?"
"YEP!"
"When did this happen?"
"Friday at my Dad's house..." Oh yay! She turns around and glares at me.
"Friday and you waited till today to bring him in?"
So there I go again and I rehearse the same story over to her as I did the FIVE other people prior to her and tell her that the pain pills weren't working either.
"What kind of pain pills?"
"You know, tylenol, aspirin, ibuprofen."
She gives a relieved look and says,
"Oh well yes, I can see why you waited then. Someone will come soon and take you to x-ray."
The thought crossed my mind however briefly to say,
"Yeah I gave him Phentermine." You all are corrupting me now.
THEN, she starts working on Puss-Man as my son started calling him. They didn't even draw the curtain. My son is freaking out quietly pleading with me to draw the curtain and I am telling him I can't cos it would be rude. So I get up and walk over and start rubbing his arm above where it hurts and patting his head.
"Mom, I'm not dying."
"Well at least you forgot about Puss-man there for a minute."
"Oh sure, remind me why don't you." And we both giggle out of control.
In the end they did his x-ray and the doctor comes back and explains they can't tell for sure if he broke his growth plate or not but in a week if it isn't better we need to see a specialist. They splint it and we get subjected to ONE MORE questioning of the nurse who checked us out.
My son and I about ran out of the ER. We get in the car and he says:
"And you wonder why I hate hospitals and doctors. It felt like they were gonna call child services or something cos we waited." He paused and then added,
"Oh and by the way Mom, I'm going to school tomorrow."
"Bud, don't say things like that when I am driving. I almost passed out."
I figure, he can't wait to show his splint and tell all his new found skateboarding buddies that he might have cracked his growth plate while doing tricks on his board.
Me? I want to ring someone's neck because today, parents get told that they shouldn't bring their kids into the doctor for a few days and then when you wait, they practically accuse you of neglect.
Okay, that is the end of my rant. Hope you found it some what amusing.
Thanks for listening yall.
Last edited:
gently.
