We spent some time last night in the ER. And we were doing so good too…no visits since April when I took my little tumble.
Anyway, JB had gone out for pizza, Diva was snoozing, I was on the computer getting directions to the girl’s house that I went to this morning for brunch. All is quiet and calm, then…
Monkey suddenly appears beside me, screaming at the top of his lungs, crying, and yelling something that I couldn’t understand. I glanced down and saw the middle finger of his left hand…it was swollen, purple, and a huge piece of skin was hanging. I finally realized that he was trying to tell me he had slammed his finger in the door. It really looked bad, and I was sure it had to be broken. I frantically called JB’s cell phone to tell him to come home fast, not realizing that he was in my Jeep. I stuck his hand under the cold water faucet in the bathroom, and if I dared take it out to look at it, he screamed that it hurt. I tried to call my FIL (he’s an EMT) but couldn’t find him. JB finally came home, and we woke our daughter up and took off for the ER.
Monkey was still crying and moaning, and holding tight to the ice pack JB gave him. JB took him back to the exam room and I was stuck with the dummy in registration who took absolutely forever to enter the information. Not long after I finally made it back to the exam room, the doctor came in…he pried the ice pack away from Monkey’s finger, and said he wanted to get an x-ray. A few minutes later, and lots of screaming and crying, the x-rays were done. The finger is not broken, thank goodness, just badly bruised. It’s right at the first bend of the finger…where the bones are separated. Just a smidge higher or lower, it likely would be broken.
This morning, he says it feels better. He still doesn’t want to do much with it, and we have to hold the sleeves of his shirts wide open for him to slide his hand up into. But he’s playing and carrying on, for the most part, like nothing happened.