Would you believe Alex broke his arm again? It's six weeks later, and he just traded in his awkwardly angled cast for a spiffy new brace, the kind that bowlers wear. I will not be taking Alex bowling any time soon, of course, for fear of resnapping his arm bones. "That's the biggest complication we see with these type of breaks," Alex's doctor has said many times. "It takes a year for the bones to fully strengthen and straighten. Rebreaking is a major concern." His doctor relayed the same story twice, giving me the uneasy impression that he's only had one other patient besides Alex. Another young boy broke both his radius and ulna at the playground, same as Alex. Six weeks after the cast coming off, he got smacked in the arm with a flying soccer ball. Bam! Forearm broken again! Sucks to be that guy.
 |
| What fun! An ambulance ride. |
Everybody knows how Alex broke his arm. Every stranger and semi-stranger who has seen Alex bumbling around town in his bright blue cast has asked him, "How did you break your arm?" And Alex has replied with the same rehearsed, oft-repeated, condensed story. He speaks with the sort of resigned exasperation of a mother who is tired of saying the same thing all day every day but still has to keep reminding their kids of something super basic, such as putting their dish in the sink. "I was at the playground playing tag and somebody went to tag me so I stepped back and fell by the fireman pole straight down on my arm and broke it."
When Alex fell, Andy screamed, "Mommy! Come quick! Alex is really hurt!" I ran over, looked down at his completely bent forearm and screamed something unintelligible and shrieky. And Alex, looking down at his completely deformed limb, said rather calmly, "Oh no. I think I broke it." And the boy that had been reaching out to tag him by the five foot opening of the play structure slunk away into the shadows, vowing to never make eye contact with anybody surnamed Berger again.
 |
Alex had two casts. This second one gave him
a thumbs down. |
The doctor removed Alex's cast this past Monday, unceremoniously concluding Alex's treatment. There is no follow up visit, which I find odd, since doctors love scheduling follow up visits. It's their way of saying, "Shall we deal with this another time?" Instead, "Let me see if I can get a brace for him," were the doctor's last words to us right before he disappeared down the hallway, reminding me of the young boy who tagged Alex right into six weeks of broke arm misery. Their retreats were clouded by similar sentiments.
It's not my fault, but it sure doesn't look good. Alex's arm does not look good. It's skinny and weak looking, obviously, from the casting, but it's also crooked. Like, noticeably, freakishly crooked. The doctor warned it would take a year to fully straighten out after such a bad break, but he didn't warn that my initial reaction to gazing at my young son's creepy, bowed out arm would be to swallow back my own vomit and avert my eyes.
The nurse gave us the wrist brace, and now I am imagining Alex growing up from within the confines of the brace, since he is terrified of taking it off. Tonight I'm going to at least make him keep it off after his bath and throughout the night. But even good-natured Alex feels morose looking down at his hideous arm. The black brace is soothing to him. Anything could be under that brace! Even a completely normal, perfectly straight arm!
 |
Alex with his new brace, which
conceals his not so awesome arm. |
I'm hoping Alex eases into using his bent matchstick arm with the same positivity that he adapted into having a broken arm in the first place. Truly, I was much more upset by the break than the victim himself, as I saw all of our lofty summer plans vanish into the sky like smoke from an extinguished fire. Last week, Alex and I were at the library when another stranger inquired about the arm. Alex rattled off his summary of how he broke it, and the lady replied, "Well, that's a good way to ruin the summer, huh?" To which Alex replied, rather snappily, "No. I'm having a great summer!" And finally, after so many weeks of lamenting his fate- our fate- I realized that he was right. It was a great summer! With a waterproof cast, we still went swimming. We went to the zoo and strawberry picking, to parks, a baseball game, Great America, and the arcade, and to see fireworks, movies, and a magician. We saw friends and played games and discovered new favorites- barbecued ribs, Radio Flyer wagon rides around the neighborhood, gas station slushees, the movies "Click" and (no pun intended) "Cast Away," tank tops instead of T-shirts, new stuffed animals from well-wishing friends, different things having to do with Pokemon. He didn't have to play baseball anymore since his arm was broken- a silver lining for Alex, yay! So was the summer ruined because of a radius and ulna snapped like strands of uncooked spaghetti? No! Not really.
And Alex will get through the rest of his recovery with that same can do spirit, I hope- despite the current state of nightmare arm. I tried to summon a bit of that spirit as I opened the first of Alex's hospital bills, but I've always had more of an unleashed negativity thing going on. Perhaps what I need in my life is a good Radio Flyer wagon ride, or an unhealthy interest in Pokemon. Maybe a little more gratitude, the reminder that bones do heal, and we're all so very lucky. So just put me on the payment plan, doc. Automatic deduction, because I'm busy with my kid, looking right into his smiling face while trying to keep my eyes off his grossly misshapen forearm.
