It's raining, It's pouring

"When it rains, it pours" is how the saying goes. If this week of finishing up our remodeling project and preparing for my surgery on Friday was the equivalent of raining, then today it escalated to POURING.

I spent the first part of the week preparing and stocking our freezer with meals, on the assumption that my new GYN will actually show up to do my surgery. He pinky swore, so I have high hopes. (If you can't trust a pinky swear, what can you trust?)

Last night, our daughter came home from basketball practice with a black eye, a skinned up knee, and she was gently cradling her elbow. She fell during a drill. She could move her fingers and said it didn't feel broken, so we did what any responsible parent would do....we pumped her full of Motrin and sent her to bed. Right?

This morning when I woke her up for school her elbow was very bruised and very swollen, as was her eye. (Uh oh.) I called my husband at work and he told me to keep her home and if her elbow wasn't any better when he got home, we'd take her to the emergency room.

We spent the day nursing it with ice, elevation, and lots of Motrin to no avail. We left Z home with K & C, and headed to the hospital at 3:45 this afternoon. At 4:15 we were sitting at a complete stop half a mile away from the entrance to the ER due to an accident that happened right in front of the hospital. By 4:30, she and I were out of the van and walking the half mile to the hospital. As we got closer, I saw a sheet covered body and no one was rushing around. I quickly averted my eyes, told the policeman where we were heading, and he stopped traffic and allowed us to cross to the hospital entrance.

We were called back to the male nurse who asked her what happened. "I fell" she said. (Oh crap. That's what every child with 'mysterious' injuries says.) He immediately said, "Then what happened to your eye?" and she said, "I hit my face too." (Oh, this isn't going well.) I explained that she hurt herself at basketball practice and he continued on with his questions. "Last period?" he asked her. And she said, "American History." (Holy crap. He's going to think she has a concussion.)

When we got into the examination room, I knew I only had a second to give her a heads-up about what I thought might soon happen. I quickly explained that they might suspect she's been abused, try to separate us, and ask her a bunch of questions. I told her to answer all of their questions honestly and right down to the last detail. NO MORE VAGUE STATEMENTS LIKE "I fell!" And PS: If they ask you about your 'last period' they're looking for a date, not a subject!

Less than two minutes later a nurse came in and moved me to the opposite corner of the room and a doctor followed close behind, stood between me and my daughter, and gently but persistently hammered her with questions while the nurse kept me busy with registration. It was nerve wracking and part of me felt sick about the whole thing, but mostly I was thankful that this hospital was so diligent in their care of children and I knew we'd pass their test. Once we did, their entire demeanor toward us changed, and we enjoyed the friendly staff as they took such good care of our daughter.

My husband finally arrived from the roadblock as she was being whisked away for x-rays. While we waited, I casually said, "How quickly things can change." And my husband said, "Just ask the guy under the sheet." (Touche.) A short time later, we got the verdict. Her elbow is broken in two places. They wrapped her in a temporary sling and referred us to a bone doctor who is expecting my call first thing in the morning.

Here's where things could get dicey. What are the odds that a bone doctor will have an available appointment for a brand new patient with a double break in her elbow tomorrow when we call? Or will he need to see her on Friday, the day of my surgery? Will begging help? I'll find out tomorrow morning, won't I? And will my husband, who allowed the house to crumble in around us when I had the flu for two days last year, be capable of caring for my daughter, myself, our other three children, and our home for a week or longer without permanent damage? We shall see.

In the meantime, the downpour continues as we face the unknown of what the rest of this week holds for us. But one thing we've learned about storms is that the sun eventually follows. So here's hoping the sun will come out tomorrow. (Crap. Now I've got that stupid 'Annie' song in my head. Bet you do too, huh?)