Yesterday Kevin, my 8-year old, was in the backyard playing on the swings when he flipped end-over-end before face-planting on the grass. Mrs. Earp was outside with him, and I heard the screams from the family room. Kevin came in holding his nose – it hit the ground hard – and gingerly keeping his arm close to his chest.
Apparently his left arm broke his fall.
We iced him up and after a few minutes Mrs. Earp called me in to ask my opinion of what Kevin’s arm looked like. I have broken both wrists before, so I know what breaks look like. Kevin’s arm didn’t look terrible, but it looked… off. Mrs. Earp took him to the Urgent Care facility.
About an hour later, the results were in: Kevin’s arm was broken.
The doctors wrapped his arm in an ace bandage, gave him a sling and sent him home. Today he is getting his permanent cast, so I took the day off. I wouldn’t be in the right frame of mind at work while worrying about the boy.
Kevin is still in pain – obviously, it is his first broken bone – but with school starting next week, it could have been worse. Kevin is right-handed, so writing should not be too difficult. In all honesty, his biggest complaint is he cannot attend karate until the cast comes off, and he cannot play video games until he figures out how to play with a cast.
I give him two days to figure that out.