A while back, as part of attempt at compromise, we started attending a different, mutually acceptable church. The services were enjoyable, and everyone liked going, but unfortunately it wasn't meant to be. That being said, Songbird has continued to attend their youth activities. She found out about a youth convention, plastered the note on the fridge, then set about earning money to go. She almost vibrated with anticipation as the prospect of spending almost 11 hours younger sibling and parent free in a different city got closer and closer. At last the day arrived and she was off!
I think every parent has moments when their children are gone that they worry. I have made concerted efforts to avoid having other people drive my children to and from places, including my own husband. I understand that this doesn't mean an accident won't happen, but what it does mean is that I would be with them. The day was cold and rainy, and my mind mulled over concern of 100 different scenarios simultaneously. What if the car slid in the rain - or someone slid into them? They would be coming back on a two hour drive late at night on a Sunday...what if the driver got sleepy, or another car lost control? I kept these concerns mainly to myself, because I was sure my husband would roll his eyes, and kept myself busy.
Things went smoothly the first few hours on the home front...within five minutes the other children were pelting us with questions about whether Songbird would ever return, and during dinner there was a shared lament over that she wasn't there, but otherwise things were okay. Then we got the type of phone call that every parent dreads.
"I fell. I'm okay - but they said I had to call."
The usual questions followed about what happened and such (she had been roller skating). With the wonders of modern technology we had her take pictures of her injury, and then the opposite arm for comparison purposed, then ultimately decided that if she felt that she could stay, that we would allow her to. I thought for a few moments on how this technology would have eased the hearts of many parents in the past when their children called about accidents of one kind and another, to be able to know what they are facing.
I called every two hours after that, to check up and make sure she was fine, all of which were answered in the affirmative. My husband was virtually beside himself, expressing as much concern as someone who is typically fairly stoic about his emotions does in the form of asking a question about whether or not we shouldn't go pick her up anyways...repeatedly....as in every three minutes. For him this is the equivalent of someone wailing hysterically "My baby, my precious baby, she's hurt and I must see her now. The very best doctors - nothing less. Oh my baaaabbbby."
She got home quite late, exhausted but moderately happy with the experience, and asked just to go to bed, verses going to the emergency room to get it checked out. The swelling appeared to have gone down some, so we agreed. As soon as I was up in the morning I checked her wrist, and after making sure she was fully awake, sending her on her way with my husband to the hospital. Four hours later, we found out that it was as was suspected. Broken.
Later the story eeked out in bits and pieces. She was bumped into by a younger child and used her hand to catch herself and cushion her fall. Not know for her grace and dexterity, in hindsight the choice to roller skate seems less and less of a good idea.
Unfortunately it was also her right wrist/arm and she is right handed. This makes things, like completing her online high school course work, much more difficult. She is also my right hand girl - helping with chores and household responsibilities. Though she does no single chore by herself, the segment she does do - often involve using her hands - washing dishes, folding laundry, bouncing biting babies.
Simple things like showering and getting dressed are also challenging. Apparently when you are 14 the last thing you want is your mother helping you bathe. Seriously. It is right underneath being seen in your underwear in public. Pointing out that you bathed this child on a regular basis until she was 8 years old makes no difference. Her tight fitted shirts have no room for casts either, but we solved this problem by making some fleece ponchos out of some lap blankets. She can put on a tank top underneath, and it is almost like wearing a snuggie, but more cuddly and permissible in public.
She is making the best of things, semi smug about the lack of chores and increased reading time combined with irritation about the itchiness (it is going to be a long long long 6 weeks) and general inability to do anything. Just think what a wonderful Christmas present getting the cast off will make! To make it seem less far away, the weather has even obliged her with some snow on the ground....
"It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...."
No comments:
Post a Comment