"To Sit and Laugh Together, this is the Best Medicine of All"

I thought it was a visit to the urgent care to pacify my budding, 7-year old, veterinarian’s curiosity of broken bones and casts. The exponential acceleration of whining and crying over the past 19 hours had driven me to a near nervous breakdown.

You see, Sarah was invited to a little boy’s birthday party from her class, so Sarah only thought it was appropriate that her daddy escort her to the party. So sweet! Like my cute, bubbly (God love him), accident prone husband, it didn't take long for something to happen. While sliding down the 2-story slide, the force of gravity pulled our little one into a collision with her dad’s butt. Oh, yes! Mark’s butt was planted on top of her little wrist the final ¾ the way down the slide! I immediately thought the worse and asked a bazillion questions over the phone as I was in the hustle and bustle of holiday shopping with my 4-year old in tow.

Now, you have to know that growing up, I had a desire to be a veterinarian. I always captured my specimens on the family farm (tadpoles, frogs, crickets, worms, squirrels, and bumble bees (yes, I had part of a bumble bee nest from my cousins backyard)). I studied, dissected, and watched them all grow with eager anticipation of how to take them apart and then, put them back together again! Yikes! So….. I start doing my diagnosis…poor Mark, POOR SARAH!

A: “Your butt was on top of her wrist?!?!” “How long?”

M: “I don’t know.”

A: “Did anyone ice her wrist?”

M: “Yes.”

A: “How long did she cry?”

M: “I don’t know.”

A: “HOW LONG DID SHE CRY?”

M: “It was for a while. O.K., it was longer than usual.”

A: “Did you hear a pop or unusual sound?”

M: “I don’t know.”

A: “What time did it happen?”

M: “I don’t know.”

A: “Was it right after you got there?”

M: “Well, I guess so.”

A: “Did any of the doctors/nurses (our friends) look at it?”

M: “NO. The staff at the bouncy place did.”

A: “Great!”

A: “Is it swollen?”

M: “Yes.”

A: “Is it bruised?”

M: “Yes.”

A: “What are you doing right now?!?!”

M: “We are sitting at Wendy’s enjoying some daddy-daughter time. I thought this is what she needed the most. We are playing checkers. She’s just a little tired.”

A: Hmmmm…..

With burn marks on the heels of Claire’s shoes and a red zipper mark around her neck, Claire hoarsely exclaimed, “Mommy, can we please slow down?” “No!” I snapped. “We need to get home! Sarah has had an accident.” All I could think about was how one of Sarah’s friends from Colorado fractured her wrist – not a lot of symptoms, but a fracture, no less.

Mark and Sarah were home when we arrived. Sarah was lying on the sofa with an ice pack on her wrist and she was whining and crying, “It hurts.” “Mommy, my wrist is burning and I can’t get comfortable.” I even took the liberty of calling our friend from Colorado (mind you I haven’t talked to her in six months and I am rattling off like a lunatic – I did take time to say, “Hi,” I think).

So, after a thorough medical diagnosis, I determined that it was a hairline fracture at best, but no question, it was a fracture. Mark suggested we call the pediatrician’s office and talk to the nurse. Honestly, I was so tired from my frenzy that I was ready to give her codeine left over from the tonsillectomy one year ago so we could all get some rest. We told Sarah that we would go to urgent care the next morning if it was still hurting. Well, the triage nurse all but suggested the same thing, pretending that she did not hear our mention of codeine. Nurse’s directions: Give our daughter 2.5 tsps of Motrin (1/2 tsp more than recommended at her age) and have her rest. If she is still in pain tomorrow, take her to the urgent care. We gave her the 2.5 tsps of Motrin. Whew! Glad that’s over. Now, we wait. Surely the pain will stop – right?

Well, not so much! 30 minutes later Sarah was still complaining and digging for all the attention she could muster out of her exhausted dad and mentally traumatized mother.

An hour went by and the whining was driving our entire family bonkers! Bella, our dog, was even whining. Claire, our 4-year old, chimed in too! "Do we have brandy and eggnog?" I asked. "How about that codeine?" suggested Mark. We gave her the Motrin one hour ago? Mark and I smiled at each other. Mark was down the stairs and back in a flash with 4 ml of codeine (1/2 the dose recommended, 1 year ago). Our theory – if we are going to drug our child, give ½ the recommended dose to be cautious. Mark and I agreed, if this doesn’t work (in 15 minutes), will take Sarah to the ER. Do I hear snoring? YES! She’s down for the night! Eggnog. Codeine. Sports for Mark. Ahhh….a good night’s sleep.

Bright and early the next morning, my usual cheery eyed 7 year old enters the bedroom whining. “Mommy, is it time to go to the ER?” “Are you sure it hurts?” I asked. “Yes. Remember, you promised we would go to the doctor this morning if I wasn’t feeling better.” Oh yeah. I did.

We got dressed and off we went to the urgent care, and I had not had my morning coffee and my anxieties started to flare up … What if it is a fracture. OK….well, no big deal. X-ray, cast, and we are done. H1N1…let’s turn the car around. Who cares about the fracture? I’ll just give her codeine all day and take her to the pediatrician tomorrow. No, I need to take her. More importantly, WE ARE OUT OF EGGNOG! So, I started explaining H1N1 to Sarah and that we would need to wear masks when we got into the clinic. “Wear a mask?” she asked. “Mommy, will it cover my nose?” “Will I be able to breathe?” “Can we talk to each other?” O.K., I thought. I didn’t think the mask was a big deal? Is that wrist still hurting? I wondered.

We checked in and Sarah continued to whine and act totally miserable while we were waiting. “How long mommy?”

We finally got called back (1 hour later)! The doctor checked Sarah’s arm. He poked and wriggled the wrist. I squirmed and waited for her to yell out in pain. Nothing! Sarah didn't even flinch! “Sarah,” I said. “Honey, it is O.K. to tell the doctor if you are in pain.” No words were mumbled. Nothing. Hmmm…..The doctor quickly assured me that she would/should say something. Not sure, he ordered an x-ray. After all, the hurt wrist was almost two times the size of the other wrist.

What's another hour? No big deal.

So, we waited.

You see, the hour that we waited to go into x-ray went a little something like this (yes, this story is just beginning)….I was reading a home catalog (since we are in a new area, I figured that I could get some house shopping done while we were waiting). Sarah was lying on the bed whining and crying (what’s new? I was able to block it out at this point). “What do you think the cast will look like?” Sarah asked. “Mommy, I am bored.” Honestly, I was having a hard time sitting still because I had already diagnosed all of the patients (3 of them) in the waiting room and I knew all of their symptoms and was worried about all of them! So, Sarah and I desperately needed something to do! Sarah and I looked around…. The small, boxy, beige rooms are enough to send any patient into a panic attack upon arrival! Top that off with the 13 year old next door screaming to the top of her lungs while her in-grown toe nail was being removed. Obama, while you are spending, can you hire an interior decorator for all of our hospitals and clinics? What’s a few more million dollars!

Purple gloves! Hallelujah! I heard the chorus of angels above….little did I know. We took a purple glove. I blew it up, sealed the bottom, pulled a pen out of my purse and made a silly face on it! We batted it around the room and the fun began! OK, I have to admit, we were having a blast! The rule: Harriett (the balloon) could not touch the floor! I was sliding from one corner of the room to the other, spinning in circles on the round stool while Sarah was perched on the edge of the bed, laughing hysterically. “Mommy, get it!” “Don’t let Harrietta touch the floor!” “Go mommy!”

Then, time froze. I got a glimpse of my daughter’s face that surprised and shocked me. Where had the last six months gone? When had I last sat and played with her like this? She was beautiful, filled with laughter and confidence. She recently turned 7 on December 3 and WOW!, She looked like a young girl. The way she sat properly on the bed, one leg crossed over the other. The way she tossed her long hair back with her left hand. I was both saddened and overwhelmed with the moment. Then, I heard, “Mommy? Mah-om-mee!” “Yes, honey.” “Mommy, it is so nice to be alone with you, playing. Just the two of us.” I was heart struck.

We arrived in Winston-Salem so fast. I mean really fast. Like most of you have experienced, life never skipped a beat. We arrived one week before school started (I had one week prior to find a school and a home for us to rent). I had just recently unpacked in Clayton, NC. After camping out for one week in an empty house in Winston-Salem, NC, our furniture arrived. School started and I started into Bible study and prayer group right away. Then, it was my mission to get Claire settled into her first year of school, at a new school, in a grade higher than we should have placed her (that’s a story for another time), hoping that our crash-course in potty training on I70 and I40 would hold up! Also, Sarah, our budding equestrian, needed to keep warmed-up on a horse and we didn’t want her to miss too many riding lessons. So, we found a great riding facility and lessons started the next week. Life was swirling around me so fast that I could not catch a breath or take it all in.

We got called back to x-ray. My little princess plopped her wrist onto the x-ray table with no problem! Ouch! I grimaced. She smiled. Then, I reviewed the x-rays. They looked clean to me! I could not see a fracture – NO FRACTURE! Are you kidding me?! I just paid $30 for nothing. "We don’t even get a cast?" I asked.

On the way out of the doctor’s office, Sarah asked, “Mommy, can we stop at Starbucks? I don’t want to drive through, I want to go inside and sit down with you.”

We pulled into Starbucks and I ordered my usual. A large, chai latte. Sarah got her usual. A vanilla milk and a low-fat, cinnamon swirl coffee cake. We sat down, talked, giggled and enjoyed the Christmas decorations that adorn the store. “Mommy, this is the best coffee cake that I have ever tasted. The cinnamon is excellent! Would you like to share it with me?”

As you can probably imagine, 18 hours prior I was asking God, “Why today?” “I don’t want Sarah to have a broken wrist.” “I am exhausted and I honestly don’t have time for this.” “Please make this all go away and heal her body overnight.” In retrospect, I envision God calmly saying, “Oh, sweetheart, if you only knew.”

It took a small, beige, boring clinical environment to make me and time stand still. All I could focus on was the big, blue eyes, and the beautiful smile of my daughter. Her laugh bounced off the walls of that tiny room and through out the entire clinic, and through my heart. Sarah was healthy and the trip to the clinic was just what the doctor ordered – the ultimate doctor – for me. Wow! This makes my heart skip a beat just thinking about it.

As my 95 year-old granny always says, “to just sit and laugh together, this is the best medicine of all.” My husband is a gem. He is amazing. Like granny, he knew all along the answer to the problem - play checkers over dinner at Wendy’s. I thought the time involved taking the girls to school each morning, running to the grocery store together, doing homework every night together, or being at riding lessons for two hours each Thursday was quality time. They are growing up so fast and the accomplishments of my seven year old blow me away. I think it is so easy these days to believe that quality time with our children has to be centered on a planned activity. As we drove home from Starbucks, I was in slow mode and I had a new definition of quality time.

Even though my to do lists were piling up at home, we all snuggled up together in the den, Sarah snuggled in her daddy’s arms and Claire snuggled in mine and we had a Harry Potter movie marathon with tickle wars during the commercials.

It was a beautiful day for all of us.