Our week with seven extra children had gone amazingly well – until yesterday.
There we were at day 6. Everybody had slept well and was happy. The sun was shining and the weather was unbelievably beautiful.
The kids had just finished the assigned task of picking all the apples off the trees in the orchard when the 4 boys asked to go out on an adventure.
I said, “Sure – but be careful – we’ve had no major injuries and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Ha.
Famous last words.
I was working away on some music with Gladys when the boys came back in yelling that Gunnar was hurt.
My first thought was – yeah right. Those boys know I hate blood and gore, and I had heard the fridge open earlier. I just bet they smeared ketchup on him and are trying to get a rise out of me.
I took my time walking out to the kitchen trying to decide whether to pretend to be freaked out of let them know right away I knew it was a fake.
The truth was – I didn’t have to pretend. One look at poor Gunnar and I knew he was really hurt. Then I looked at his ankle and just about passed out. It looked like somebody had stuffed a hard boiled egg inside.
Oh my.
A quick call to an EMT friend (who has several sons and works the Friday night football games) confirmed my gut response – this needed a visit to the ER.
I sent the kids to the attic to find the pair of crutches that my husband had bought at a garage sale awhile back. I remember that I thought he was crazy at the time – but he said someday we’d be glad we have them.
Yep. I was glad all right!
With the help of those garage sale crutches, Pedro and I loaded him up in the van and took off for town – leaving the remaining kids at home with my teens in charge. At least it was nap time.
It must have been a slow afternoon at our small town hospital because everybody in the area stopped by to see who was in the ER. I should have sold tickets.
A quick trip to X-ray confirmed that is wasn’t broken (whew!) but was a severe sprain.
He left an hour later with a splint, an ice pack and a lecture about how important it is to stay off of it for several days or risk serious permanent damage.
He will spend the rest of his stay here on the couch playing chess and watching movies with his ankle elevated above his heart.
So much for playing Rambo in the ravines.
Meanwhile, I got to call his mom. “Hey Cinnamon! Remember those insurance cards and medical clearance forms you sent? Thanks so much. I needed them at the ER today…”
Oh my! What a day!
