A Music Monday "Break"

So, it's a Monday and around here that usually means Mondays have something to do with music, but today is going to be different. I am telling ya, this Music Monday post was going to be killer too. I wish I could promise you and The Good Fear, the band I was hoping to tell you all about today, that we'd all be hearing about them and their goodness today, however, life throws curve balls and my family got hit by one this weekend.

It was shaping up to be a busy, but fun Saturday for us, last Saturday. For some reason, I had really wanted to do a "Big Breakfast" Saturday, so as I grocery shopped last week, I got all the fixin's, even cinnamon rolls for the boys. My oldest had a soccer game that morning and from there, I was heading to play in my first tennis tournament. It was going to be a busy day.

I got to the gym early to change. As I slipped my tennis shoes on, I kept feeling a chigger bite that was rubbing between my shoe and ankle. My mind was on it and I was hoping my mind would get off it, especially when I was on the tennis court. I was nervous, too, because I'm a 2.0 player and was having to play up because my partner, whom I'd never really met, much less played with, is a 3.0 player. Higher ranks can't play down, but lower ranks can play up. I was prepared for a great experience to help me get better, but also, for loss. BIG loss.

My hub had wanted to see me play for a while and had the boys with him on the rooftop of the tennis club. They had eaten and were a little hard to contain. Matches were being played all around us and some people get serious about their tennis now, so to keep things chill, we made the split-second decision to check them into the gym childcare for about 30 minutes so Christian could watch the start of the match. My kids have been in childcare there dozens of time before.

This day had a weird feeling to it really that I'd been feeling since the day before, last Friday. I thought it must be nerves to be competing in the tournament and all the unknown surrounding it. What I believe now, is that my "mama instincts" were preparing me for what was to come.

My partner and I walked out onto the court to warm up and I heard we were playing one of the Arkansas 2.5 state champs as our first opponent. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. I'm thinking, what in the flip am I doing about to play these girls? Unzipping my racket cover, next thing I know, Christian comes to the chain-link fence surrounding the tennis court with Wyatt, my two-year-old, in his arms who is clinging to him and moaning/crying. I ran to the gate and he said that he'd hurt his leg, but no one saw it and so we didn't know what happened. We didn't know if it was his knee, his hip or his thigh.

Now, here's something to know about Wyatt. That kid is seriously one of the toughest kids for his age, I've ever met. He's busted his face, incidentally at the gym as well, he's dislocated his elbow twice, he's had his finger smashed in a door and had multiple run-ins with his brother, even one that involved an Ernie-driving musical car that spins around and that Thomas spun right into his long, curly hair, taking an entire chunk out. When that happened, Wyatt didn't even cry. He rounded the corner into the kitchen rubbing his head and said, "Ow." When I looked at the car in Thomas' hands, a lock of Wyatt's blond hair had was spun up into the wheel. I'm just sayin', I think the kid is tough. He is tough.

And so, when he was holding his leg and when he came to me and we tried to pull him off as he white-knuckled my shirt and neck like he never had before, we knew he was hurt, and hurt bad. A doctor had come down to the tennis shop to take a look at it. We pulled his shorts up and although a gastro doctor, he immediately said, "Go to the ER, now."

We decided Christian would take him to the ER and I would go to the club to try to find out what happened and then meet him there shortly thereafter. I found Thomas inside and he, a four-year-old, who said he was in the bouncer in the gym at the time, had seen Wyatt around a yellow soccer ball either trying to kick it, roll on it ... we don't know, and he said he saw Wyatt fall and cry. We don't know if any other kids were around. We don't know if a big kid accidentally fell on him as he tried to kick, heck, we don't even know if he got dog-piled or was all by himself. We know NOTHING about how my two-year-old son split his femur clean in half in less than ten minutes of being in the gym childcare.

The worker in the gym told Christian she wasn't watching because she was with another child and parent. She apologized to him over and over. When I came back there, WHOA Mama, I was livid, hurting for Wyatt and looking for an answer, some point of reference to tell the ER, something or someone to tell me, to explain how my little buddy got to be in such pain.

Now, I know that accidents happen all the time. You get two kids in a room, trouble. Heck, you get one kid and a pair of scissors and you have trouble. You get a bunch of kids in a room, much less a gym filled with bouncy toys and bouncy kids and accidents will happen. I'm just heart-broken that a staffer told us they'd been having trouble with their workers "going on breaks" and leaving one person to watch all those bouncy kids alone lately. I'm heart-broken that the one worker there hadn't kept her body turned so she could at least, try to keep one eye on the rest of the many kids in that gym. My kid was in pain like I'd never seen before and we had no answers.

At the ER here in Fayetteville, we got in, and eventually to radiology. I was asked to leave the room. It was a good call. I can't even explain the state I was in outside that door from what I was hearing coming from behind it. When they let me in, x-ray images are now immediate and on the screen behind the glass office for the technician, I see a femur bone split like one side of a "V" with my child's name on it. My stomach sank.

The next few hours were a blur. I can't even really write about his pain. It's too hard for me. I just know that when the ER doctor came back and said he'd need a body cast, I tried to take it in. When he came back what seemed like ten hours later, he said they couldn't set it, nor could anyone in NW Arkansas, so he'd called an ambulance and we'd been accepted to go to Children's hospital in Little Rock.

My friend, Mandy, stopped by the ER and when I saw her face come through our door, she'd been crying. Well, then, of course I did too. She sat with us, offered multiple times to pretty much give us one of her arms, even with her three small kids and husband in the parking lot. They helped us get one of our two cars home. Cassie, Andie's mama (mother of Thomas' best friend), went to pick Thomas up at the gym for me to take him back to her house. That hour or so after hearing we'd be going to Children's and actually stepping into the ambulance with my sweet, broken baby, is a blur. All I can say is that not having family here, on that day, I'd never have known it.

In the Fayetteville ER, they'd fashioned him a soft splint. It was hard to watch. When the ambulance crew got there, they transferred him onto that much too long stretcher and he reached for me. If it had only been a little wider, I would have been strapped in with him. We were strapped into the ambulance and then we said goodbye to Daddy. He was soon to follow after a trip to the house to grab some of our and Wyatt's things for the night. Five minutes into the ambulance ride, we have to turn around. The EMT had forgotten the CD from radiology, some kind of information stickers she needed and some form. I made myself keep silent. When we were back on the road again, Wyatt would not let my hand go for anything.

About an hour into the trip, he finally fell asleep. He had moaned and cried before that. It was time for morphine. The EMT told me we could wait until he woke up to give it to him since he'd finally fallen asleep. I have broken my wrist twice, my elbow once, they set that wrong when I was a little girl and so I had to have it corrected by surgery (pins, sawing of bone, etc.) later. I've torn ligaments, sprained multiple joints and ankles, had Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever and have had two children. I knew that when in pain and the medicine wears off and you fall asleep in the middle of it, you wake up miserable. That is exactly what Wyatt did.

While he was asleep, she called someone two times to ask how to administer one milligram of morphine from a four milligram bottle. I was a certified First Responder in college and this was giving me very little confidence. I almost told her, well, you squirt three out and do something with saline after that, but I made myself keep silent while I prayed she knew what she was doing. I knew my feelings about this whole situation were heightened beyond ANYONE else's right now. Must chill. Can't chill.

Wyatt moaned in pain. I unbuckled my seat belt and knelt beside him as close to him as I could be without hurting him. I see Clarksville. I see Menifee. I see Conway. I see Maumelle, I-430, Children's. Ten steps into Children's hospital and I already felt better. His morphine, second dose now, was working and even though he was a little scared, not letting me go, I was just fine with that. I thought he was brave even then.

Long story a little less long, we went through triage again, did paperwork again, Christian got there, eventually an orthopedic doctor brought this metal crib looking bed to outside our room. It was to put Wyatt's legs in traction. About an hour later after Wyatt literally had lost it, tired, hungry, any movement caused him pain, frustration, more pain, it was time to pull those legs taut so his muscles could stop clenching and contorting.

Traction was hard to watch. The doctor and nurse noted his bravery. He was so stinkin' tough. I couldn't crawl up into that bed either. That was tough.

I had hoped the traction would help him feel more comfortable between the Valium and morphine they had him on. I'll be honest, it was a miserable 24 hours. Maybe the most miserable 24 hours of my life because for the first time, this pain I was feeling so intensely wasn't mine and I'd have done anything to switch places with him. Anything. His discomfort was almost more than I could bare. Any twitch, pain. Any frustration or any movement for that matter, pain.

When Sunday morning came, I was still in my tennis clothes. Wyatt was in his metal crib. Christian had "slept" in the pull-out chair and I on the sofa next to Wyatt's crib. Christian had run to the cafe to get us coffee and they came in and said Wyatt would go to the OR in 15 minutes. I kissed him, brushed my teeth, put some jeans on tried to prepare myself I was going to be able to let him go past those swinging double doors without me. My cousin and friend, Amy, had come to sit with me during the procedure. I was very glad to have her there as we waited. She makes me laugh.

Before we knew it, he did it. They did it. His anesthesia went well, tube went down fine, leg set and when we got to go get him, he had a beautiful new blue body cast. Coming out of anesthesia was pretty tough for him. I did finally get to crawl up in that bed with him and the nurse covered me and him both with warm blankets. We hadn't gotten to hold him since the ER in Fayetteville. Christian asked if we could pick him up. That boy was happy to be in his Daddy's arms.

When we got back to our room, Wyatt seemed much more comfortable. Like, night-and-day from the day before. My other cousin, David, came to see Wyatt and then my brother, Michael, came. We sat around, the five of us adults and talked about funny things, like our memories of our trips to Des Arc to see our Great Grandparents. Our rolling around and playing in the hay barn probably filled with snakes and black widows, the way Mama and Daddy Hambrick's house always smelled like propane and that if an adult had lit up a cigarette too close, we all could've been blown to high heaven. We laughed as we talked about how I drove the tractor over at least a few acres of beans when I was only three and how that little farm dog jumped up into the moving tractor and how Michael had run to the mobile home to tell them they were about to get crushed 'cuz I was-a-comin' in that tractor. We laughed as we talked about our family. It was a blessing to have so many of them there.

So, my little buddy is going to be just fine. While in the OR waiting room, a little girl was released who had sock-like sleeves on her arms, legs and poking out from under her clothes. I had to swallow hard as her father carried her past me. As we were coming to the waiting room, I'd seen a precious little Asian boy, a toddler, hooked to an IV, bald and swollen with a huge grin on his face. I had to swallow hard passing him too. As hard as this was, I am truly grateful. We are grateful and blessed. Wyatt will be just fine.

We have to lay Wyatt down to ride in a car in a vest that we have to strap him in in three places. He lays on and is surrounded by pillows. There is a lot to figure out and he's been frustrated, but, we will be just fine. Friends and family have called, Facebooked, texted, emailed, tweeted, coordinated meals for a month, you name it ... we feel so taken care of and looked after it's overwhelming. Because I can't answer all the love, especially the phone, I was asked to maybe say it here so you all could have more details and know what happened. I hope this helps.

Thank you all that I know and don't know who thought of and prayed for us during this and the weeks to come. Perspective is a funny thing. That chigger bite I was so concerned about before my match seems like a joke to me now, as I think it should. I am glad to have the perspective I have right now and more importantly, that I never forget it. My hope now, is that my patience would step up to the plate in the next few weeks as well!

Seriously, y'all, I can't thank you enough for your concern.

Love to all,
Milton

P.S. Make sure you come back next week for Music Monday. Go check out The Good Fear now to whet your pallet for what's coming next Monday, complete with an interview with the band and a free MP3. Holla.