Our plans for the weekend were as follows:
Birthday party on Saturday. Spend the day at my parents beach rental on Sunday. And yes, it's a bit weird that they're staying in a beach rental, just down the street from their own beach house. I think my mom "won" the house in a silent auction and decided to stay there while they were having some work done on their house.
About two hours into the birthday party, things went horribly wrong.
My brother in law was taking Bub up the inflatable water slide and no one is quite sure what happened. All we know for sure is that he was crying and crying and crying, before he even made it down the slide. He continued to cry and refuse to be put down and would bear absolutely no weight on his legs. He was remarkably clear about what hurt and where, and it wasn't long before we were packed into the car, headed for urgent care.
I had to explain what had happened multiple times. No, he did not fall OFF, the slide, he fell into it. Apparently telling someone that he hurt himself by falling into an inflatable slide, is akin to saying, "Well, he bumped his head on a balloon and BLAMMO! Concussion."
Four hours later, his leg was pronounced broken. Broken.
They put his leg in a splint with instructions to go to our Children's Hospital today for a cast.
Now, if we had chosen to go directly to the Children's Hospital, rather than the chop shop urgent care, we would have bypassed the four wasted hours today we spent there, only to be told that they don't do casts there and haven't since 1991. They splint it, wait for the swelling to go down, then send you to an orthopedist a few days later.
Since we already had a splint, we were about to be sent on our way when I asked if there was anything I could give him for the pain. I'm not one to jump to medicate my child, but we got a combined total of maybe two hours of sleep last night, and the poor kid was exhausted. The doctor was shocked that no one had given him anything up to this point, and seconds later we had a syringe of Tylenol with codeine in our room and prescription to go. The urgent care doctor had told us that once his leg was immobilized, the pain would go away. He was wrong. Very, very wrong.
Now, we're home with an elaborate couch set up, piles of books, one broken leg, and two broken parents. I held it together until my dad called tonight and then broke down.
This afternoon Bub, with teary eyes and a shaky voice, told me, "It's not better."