Well, if you are like me you like action and adventure on a Saturday night. (Which actually for me means popping in the DVD Mr & Mrs. Smith and eating popcorn and NOT having a napkin but using my shirt. That is living on the edge here, baby!) But for others, such as my son, he likes the big fun of a trip to the emergency room on a Saturday night.
Brandon was spending the night at a friend’s house and I get a call at about 7:30pm saying, “I fell and my wrist really hurts. BUT Mom, don’t freak. I am okay. And DON’T come pick me up. Okay?”
Of course my verbal response was, “Okay, let me know if it gets worse.” Upon hanging up I was all “Omigod, he broke it. I know he did. Do NOT doubt the intuition of a mom. I need to get him. Boil Water! Tear sheets! Call someone! Hurry! My baby is hurt” I can feel safe in sharing with you that my wonderful husband did what most men would do when their wife freaks for “no reason”. He nodded. Then went back to his WoW game.
After a few hours, I settled in, took my NyQuil because this COLD IS KILLING ME, I tell you. (It must be the Bird Flu or Mad Cow Disease. My head just hurts THAT badly!) So cozy in my jammies I get a call at 11:45pm. “Mom, it really hurts and I really think that I messed it up. Can you come get me?”
Whoooosh! Super Mom rushes into action. Grabbing clothes that are not my cozy jammies (so that I don’t look like *I* need to be the one doctors rush back into the depths of the e.r. curtain immediately because why else would this woman look this horrific?!), cell phone and a Diet Coke. (Damn NyQuil!) All the while mumbling LOUDLY, “See! HURT! Do not doubt the Mom with THE KNOW power. I told you so, HONEY!”
Sure enough, the boy has fractured his wrist. After HOURS of playing, “What do you think is wrong with that poor sap?” and “Quick! Hold your breath! They look AWFUL!”, we were finally seen, x-rayed and splinted up with instructions to see an orthopedic surgeon on Monday. And he was told no school until he gets a hard cast put on it. Ummm, see, the only problem is that he has his [insert expletive here] standardized testing on Monday. Normally, I would say too bad, so sad, deal with it school. However, I have been
forced to talk to been called by the dean twice this week about absences and school and “We are at the end of the school year and he cannot miss and how could you be such a horrible Mom, you slacker!” Yes, I have been called to the carpet by the principal already and was none too pleased. So, we have doctors orders vs. Miss Dean You-Will-Burn-In-Hell-If-Your-Son-Misses-Any-More-School.
But I have a doctor’s note. Ha ha ha. Doctor’s note trumps threats of being sent to hell! Nya!
One good thing did come of it. I discovered that NO ONE shops at WalMart at 4:00am. I just may have found a loop-hole in my “I can’t go to WalMart because it is so crowded I come home crying” rule. 4:00am shopping! But today…today I am useless and exhausted. But at least my son is feeling no pain. (Thank you Vicodin!)