Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Worst Mother of the Year

I have officially awarded myself the craptastic title of Worst Mother of the Year. Is it because I let Vivi fill up on candy and cake at my sister's wedding? Nope. Is it because I've let her sleep in our bed for the last three nights? Nope. It is because I dislocated her elbow yesterday. That's right people- full on bodily harm.



It all started on our walk home from the bakery yesterday morning. Vivi will periodically drop to her knees while we are headed somewhere and I periodically swing her up by her arm. Well, when I did it yesterday, she let out a scream and her arm went limp. Then she started crying...hysterically. I wasn't totally sure what had happened but I knew it was my fault. I picked her up, carried her home, and we got in the car to go to my husband's office. (Yes, the first official medical opinion that I got was from my psychiatrist/homeopath husband.)



When I burst through the door of his office, I was panicked and sobbing. I said, "I think I dislocated Vivi's arm." He looked at her shoulders which seemed symmetrical but her long sleeves prevented a good look at the rest. She was in a lot of pain so he told me to take her to the emergency room and he would meet me there.



I pulled myself together and got to Hasbro Children's Hospital. I hadn't been there since Vivi was 6 weeks old and needed a CT scan of her head because my husband ACCIDENTALLY dropped her. I had all these terrible flashbacks. When I got to the desk, I just lost it. I couldn't spit out her name or her birthdate. I was just holding her and crying hysterically.



When I finally was able to calm down somewhat and tell the nurse that I was pretty sure I dislocated her arm, she calmly said, "Oh, that happens a lot. Don't worry. We should be able to just pop it back into place." I was starting to feel a little relieved that I wasn't going to have DCYF knocking on my door.



We got into a room fairly quickly and Vivi was very cooperative. I told her that a doctor was going to come and fix her boo-boo and that she was doing such a great job being brave. (By this time, she was much calmer than mommy, that's for sure.) When my husband showed up half an hour later, she said to him "Daddy, you a doctor. You fix my arm."



Well, our 3+ hours at the ER included a nurse giving her a dose of ibuprofen, two tries by the nurse practitioner to reset it, one try by the pediatrician, Vivi's refusal to move the arm on her own, a red Popsicle, and the eventual discharge of Vivi with her arm in a sling (which she promptly removed to use instead as a way to carry her bear around.)




Is it fixed? In the words of many an esteemed Vermonter, nope. The arm is still hanging down by her side. She refuses to use it and was up every 1-2 hours last night crying in pain. We are taking her to the pediatrician this morning to get his opinion. The saga continues...






1 comment:

  1. Oh Sam. That sucks. I'm sure she'll be fine but that wrecks YOUR nerves, huh? :)

    Hey, did you know I have a blog too? Check it out...it's mostly political, but today I wrote about my devious son. Ha.

    http://musings-meg.blogspot.com/

    Meg

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