Sedona’s Broken Arm, AKA Beware the “Orthopedic Bars”

(Beloved readers:  walk away if you’re squeamish.)

Oh, yeah, it is most definitely broken.  But before I go on, let me just say what might have been written here:  Marissa had her first day of preschool last week!  “We interrupt our regularly scheduled program…” 

You know the monkey bars that look like a bunch of steering wheels set at an angle?  Turns out those are crazy dangerous.  Which is why was nobody in the ER/Orthopedic Field was surprised that Sedona got hurt this way.  They see it all the time.  They wonder why they’re still legal and they repeatedly call them “Orthopedic Bars” because you will see an Orthopedist after a bad fall from one. 

Which is exactly what Sedona had.  Bummer.  Kind of weird, too, considering she was just doing something kind of run of the mill – for her, anyway.  She was not pushing the envelope, climbing way high up in a tree, climbing the outside of our swingset at home, standing on top of the monkey bars, jumping from them, or any of the other hair-raising activities my little climber likes to do.  She was simply swinging from the monkey bars.

Sedona had just barely gotten to the playground with her Bubbe and Daddy when it happened.  My Father-in-law Larry came by to pick me up, saying “Now, I need you to stay calm” and we get there right as she’s being loaded in an ambulance.  Oh. My. Goodness. 

This is what her arm looked like: 

And this is why we had to have another ambulance ride to the Children’s Hospital followed by urgent surgery:  “No dopplerable pulse in left wrist.”  Her heart was fine, but one of her arteries was kinked, looped, or otherwise impinged by that lightening bolt of an arm that she’s got going on there.  That and they needed to pin her arm and set it –all of which was best done while she was unaware.  God is merciful.  And though they had her under as a precaution, she did not end up needing to be “opened up.”  

She did not cry that much until she got an IV and then again when they put a splint on her.  (And at those times, she screamed.) What helped?  Singing “All the Pretty Little Horses”  over and over until the splinting was done.  That and some Morphine  - I kid you not.  Can you say, Freaky?  She was visibly relieved after the splint. 

Bless her, she would say “I wish this had never happened.”  and “I don’t want to have a broken arm,” and “I want it to feel better – NOW” in such a whimper.  But she is a TERRIFIC patient.  She had it in perspective, saying “It could be worse.”   She tells me what she needs, cooperates, and says to the nurses, “It’s probably for the best…”  There was a pain rating scale, and she had that down pat – even volunteering the pain number on a scale of 10 so we could determine her need for pain meds.  She also enjoyed persuading them that they needed to call an extra nurse in the middle of the night because she likes having three people to help her go to the bathroom: a parent to help with the particulars, a nurse for her IV, and another nurse to lift her back in bed while the parent held her arm up high. 

She got excited at the prospect of being fed “like a baby,”  eating jello and pudding, and getting gifts, flowers, DVD’s, and a special blanket from the hospital.  She even got a special teddy bear who also happened to have a bandage on its arm.  This was from her ambulance nurses.

All of our nurses, doctors and surgeons were amazing.  I could kiss and hug all these precious folks out of gratitude for the excellent care they gave my baby. 

I got to stay with her all night, and it was right up there with our first nights together in the hospital when she was born.  It was a precious time of spending time together, bonding, helping, feeling relieved when she was comfortably arranged or sleeping peacefully and watching Disney Playhouse together at 3am when all else was quiet.  Oh, this girl!  So ready to share a smile even when she is in pain.  So sweet. So darling. So one of a kind!  I love you so much, my broken little bird!  Praise God, with His healing, you won’t be broken for long. 

The very concerned surgeons kept her in the hospital until late afternoon Monday. (She had been admitted around 10:30am Sunday.)  Then she relaxed at Bubbe and Zayde’s for a day. 

Then we made the trek back home, where Mom had already come to make sure the cats had water and I had help with a very confused, grumpy, out of sorts, completely-not-herself-Marissa so Sedona could go to school for a few hours.   It wore Sedona out as I expected it would, but it was a morale booster.  All the girls doted on her – even the big kids!  We’re going to keep her resting until next week at the earliest.  She still has to face at least two more trips down for check-ups, pin removal, and cast removal.

Whoa, Nelly, what a ride!  I know I’m writing in a light voice now, but there were scary times of course.  You know it’s time to pray when the doctors use the word “scary.”  And you know it’s time to lock yourself in the car and call your mom and cry when the adrenaline is finally out of your system and you’ve got nothing left but very little sleep and a bunch of frayed nerves.  Hugs, concern and understanding from sweet in-laws also helped!  So did all the babysitting.  Thanks, Alex and Jamie!  You took Marissa for me when I was flying out the door to the playground/ambulance and I am so, so grateful!  I knew she was in good hands!

So now she is getting more and more range of motion, independence, and energy.  She is feeling less pain and that is making her more confident to try out more movement.  We would love your prayers for more healing and retroactive prayers since there were more scary moments than we probably even know about, and one that I did know about when her oxygen levels were a little low in the recovery room.  Please also raise up a shout of praise for all the mercy he gave us last weekend.  He truly is our Great Physician.