I had a scary moment today when the nurse and counselor showed up at my classroom door. I had just promised my class a Chapter 5 Assessment with five bonus points for a word search. They were chomping at the bit to get to it, but I reined them in until attendance could be taken. Which never happened.
Nurse tapped on the glass panel of my door, and I motioned her in. She motioned me out. We Newmentians are experts at nonverbal communication. I stepped outside the door and saw Counselor as well. The first thought that jumped into my mind was that they needed my expertise in sniffing out some illegal substance on one of my captives that hour. It's happened before. But no. The nose of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom was not the target of their mission.
"You need to come with me," said Nurse. "The Pony has fallen down the steps of Basementia. Now don't worry, we think he's all right, but there's a chance that he's broken his arm."
Well. What to say. After the air whooshed out of me, I said, "I was just getting class started. All they need is their assignment." Because you can't just waltz away from 23 juniors just returned from vo-tech school, freshly caffeinated and fish-sticked from lunch.
Counselor said, "Get your things. I will take your class. I have different plans for them. They are going to the gym."
The gym would have been a treat for my freshmen classes. But I was sure the juniors would see it as a thorn in their side as they tried to lay their heads down for a clandestine nap. Too bad, so sad. I grabbed my keys and was off to Basementia.
Nurse asked, "Are you sure you're all right to drive?"
Of course. It's not like The Pony had cracked his head open and had brains leaking out. I found him behind the Basementia office counter, his arm propped up, chatting with his keyboarding teacher. After admonishing her to stop shoving my boy down the stairs, I asked The Pony what happened.
"I was going to lunch, and my foot hit the bottom step, and I tripped, and fell on the first two steps, but my arm hit the top step (he's lanky, that Pony, but not THAT lanky--there are only three steps at that location, in Lower Basementia by my old classroom, the lair of Basementia Buddy). One of my shoes fell off, and I think someone stepped on me, and I skinned my arm. See?"
This was his left arm, his good arm, the one not broken at the elbow three years ago that required surgical repair. The elbow was swollen and purpling in a U-shape, with a scrape on the bottom of his forearm. The Pony said he was not in great pain unless he moved it, as in tried to straighten it, which just wasn't happening.
"I went to lunch because I didn't think I was hurt. I ate my two corn dogs, and then I noticed that I couldn't bend my arm out straight."
Nurse grabbed a wide elastic bandage and immobilized the elbow. She was trying to fashion a sling from a narrow elastic bandage, but it was not long enough. Just then the dude from Wall Street Financial Services walked in.
"Hey, buddy, did you get hurt? I hope you don't mind...I used to be a medic. It's your elbow? Did you reach out your arm like this to catch yourself? No? Is there one part that hurts more, like a specific point? Can you wiggle your fingers? Do we have a triangle bandage?"
Nurse informed Dude that we were fresh out of triangle bandages. Secretary whisked away to ask ParkingSpotUsurper if she had any fabric swatches suitable for slinging. A student office worker was dispatched to the upper reaches of Basementia for The Pony's backpack and hoodie. Secretary returned with some lovely purple polyester and a utilitarian cotton red/navy/green striped fabric. The Pony chose the purple, and Dude and Nurse commenced to slinging him. I must say, he was fit for evacuation from the battlefield forthwith.
We returned to Newmentia for my phone and glasses, and, oh yes...the #1 son. A call was put in to Family Ambulance Driver H, and a discussion ensued as to whether The Pony should go to a local ER, and if so, which of the three, or whether FAD H should simply meet us for transfer of The Pony and take him to Children's Hospital. We agreed on the latter, after FAD H strode into the last ER we took The Pony to, the one that did a fine job stitching #1's open head wound last November 12, and inquired as to whether there was an orthopedic surgeon in the entire county. The answer was that he was better off taking The Pony to the city, because not much could be done for him locally, except for the short term while awaiting services in the city.
That's where they are now, FAD H and The Pony, at Children's Hospital. I am awaiting the prognosis.
The Pony is safely ensconced in the Mansion for the evening. The doctor thinks he has a hairline fracture somewhere in one of his arm bones at the elbow. Three X-rays were inconclusive. The doc and the X-ray tech pulled The Pony's arm until his elbow straightened. To hear FAD H tell it, "He darn near came off the table when they straightened his elbow!" Until then, The Pony only had moderate pain. They gave him regular tylenol, and a prescription for 500 mg tablets, which is what we have sitting above the stove of the Mansion, only in caplet and generic form, so that's what he'll be getting if he needs it.
The Pony has a splint holding his arm at 90 degrees at the elbow, with a rotation of 30 degrees, which FAD H says is the neutral position. It looks uncomfortable to me, and is the position that his previously broken right elbow was cast in for 10 days. The one that the physical therapist said would have had a much greater range of motion if it had been cast in the thumbs up handshake position. That's my interpretation. She was a bit more technical. The splint has to stay on for two weeks, then he returns to the doctor to see how things look.
So...playing the trombone in the Christmas program on December 12 is out. Poor Pony. He also missed Band pictures today. Club pictures are tomorrow, so he's going to school.
He's got to go right back up those steps that tripped him.