Remember how I posted about Gabrielle having her tonsils out? I am sure I probably said something along the lines of ‘hopefully it is our last visit to hospital for quite some time’. If I did indeed say that, I fucking jinxed myself, didn’t I.
1.02pm, Friday 10 February. Phone rings. I see it’s school. Briefly I think it’s Gabrielle’s throats, then I remember the whole having her tonsils out thing. Crap. I knew in my gut it wasn’t a case of ‘It’s blah blah here, blah blah is sick, could you please come and pick him/her up?’. Nope.
“Hi, Emma, it’s Diane here from DHS. Gabrielle has had a bit of an accident and hurt her arm, I think she needs to go up to hospital.”
As expected. For a couple of weeks before that I just knew one of my children would have a broken arm. I just knew it. I really do believe I have psychic abilities, and this was another case of knowing what would happen before it did.
I freak out. We drive up to school. I go into the office, see my baby and start crying. She has a sling, she is upset. I don’t want to touch her in case I break her. More.
The vice principal told me Gab had been doing gymnastics (there is a shock) (not), and had lost balance somewhere along the line. Boom. Goodbye arm.
Almost at the car, Gab informs us ‘her arm didn’t look right so she popped it back into place’.
It was then I knew this was going to be more than a simple broken arm…
and I was right.
She had a supracondylar fracture, basically she broke the elbow end of her humerus. And it wasn’t very humourous. I know. In poor taste.
After the ortho registrar looked at the xray it was decided she would need surgery to properly align the bone, and that she’d need wires put in. Gabrielle was understandably scared at the prospect of surgery, and asked numerous times if they could ‘just leave it’, but no. That wasn’t an option.
Originally she was put on the list for surgery that night, but there was an emergency and she was bumped to the top of the list the following morning.
We were told she’d be taken in around 9am, but it wasn’t until 1pm we were taken to the surgical area, and then 2pm before she was actually put under.
When the surgeon tells a mama with anxiety ‘it will be around half an hour, an hour at the very most’, it isn’t a good look for the surgery to take just over two hours! I was quite calm and collected for the first half hour. After 45 mintues I was getting impatient. After an hour I was getting really impatient. 90 minutes and I was deciding how I’d break the news to my family that something terrible had happened in surgery. Finally, after around 1hr 45min, the recovery nurse came into the area we were waiting in to get something, and after us asking, let us know the surgery was going fine and she’d be out soon.
A bit over two hours after watching my baby be put under, for the second time in three weeks, we were taken to recovery. It was a sight I wasn’t necessarily prepared for this time. She was so groggy… and then there was the huge cast which went 3/4 of the way to her shoulder. Seeing the cast was what made me break down for the first time. Something about the cast made it seem real. Yeap. Over 24 hours in hospital and it was finally hitting home.
Okay. She was pretty funny as she came to this time. Poor thing was convinced it was her leg that had been operated on, the following conversation sent me into hysterics… just seconds after being hysterical:
“Did I have surgery?”
“Was it my tonsils again?”
“No baby, you broke your arm, remember?”
“No, I broke my leg”
“No, you broke your arm, look down”
She then looked down and her eyes were as big as saucers as she replied “Oh!”
It didn’t seem like long before we were back on the peds ward. Unlike the night before Gabrielle slept for a majority of it, and so did I. We both needed it, after running on around two hours sleep since waking on Friday morning!
Sunday afternoon we were finally allowed home… and had a pretty miserable couple of nights. Monday she was back at school (she insisted, and it went against everything going on in my head to agree!), but night time was horrible. She was tired, sore, and grumpy. I was tired and grumpy. Everyone was tired. And grumpy.
Last week she had a new cast put on and I was able to see the incision. This again was another heart in mouth moment. It was a lot bigger than I expected and it took me a few seconds to compose myself and tell her it ‘wasn’t that bad’.
As of now, we’re waiting for an ortho appointment next Wednesday, and for her to be put under for the third time since January 17th, to have the three wires removed. She is very frustrated at the lack of things she can do (her usual running, jumping, flipping)… also upset that she is unable to attend gymnastics this term (she had one session this year before breaking her arm). It’s going to be a relief to see her finally jumping all over the place and manipulating her body into positions that aren’t natural.