Then she had soccer practice on Thursday. They were scrimmaging and needed 2 goalies, so she was brought in as the second one (their full time goalie was at the other end). She tells me at one point she made a great save. GreeeeAAAAaaaat!
Her coach, who was playing on the other team took a shot and Izzy tried to block it with her hands. It didn't go so well.
When I arrived on the field near the end of practice, they were just finishing up their wind sprints and then capped off the night with 300 crunches. I could see her holding her arm close to her and knew she was probably in some pain. But she still finished the running and sit ups.
She doesn't like to show pain...or weakness...or have attention drawn to herself.
So instead, she sucked it up and finished practice.
My first look the big bump on her wrist was filled with motherly concern.
I wanted to hold her in my pocket and stroke her hair and tell her everything was going to be okay.
During the ride home from soccer she tells me it would be okay if I took her to the ER.
WHOA.
Hold the bus. Even though she STILL wasn't crying this was a HUGE sign of how much it hurt.
We came home, and I had her shower and change (thinking if they put her in a cast, I didn't want her sweaty stinky self stuck in there for 4 weeks). Crazy? Maybe, but let me remind you that she still wasn't crying at all.
When I told her it was time to go, I found her in her room putting on make-up and putting on cuter sweat pants than the ones I had originally laid out for her.
Really? REALLY?
We took Maria to my moms house and as soon as we had Maria squared away, the tears came. 45 minutes after it happened, she finally let herself cry.
Thinking about it is making me cry all over again. One look at her face and I was tearing up. I am apparently made of weaker cloth than she. I am a mushy, gummy, emotional mess.
But you knew that already.
When we arrived at the prestigious Children's Hospital (because where else would an over protective mother take her child??) I felt better.
Izzy couldn't move her wrist at all, hardly any thumb movement, there was a huge lump on it and she kept saying it felt numb. They had a hard time feeling the pulse in her wrist.
They couldn't believe she finished soccer practice and gave her a gentle, loving lecture on taking care of herself. Then they started saying things that were freaking her out, like "bone doctor will be here soon" and "vascular damage" and "definitely broken" and "let's get an IV".
These scary words put her over the edge and had mom feeling pretty worried.
[Worried = scared so badly that her stomach was flip flopping and mom may have felt like she was going to throw up.]
Did I forget to mention that during this entire evening Morrie was at the Jabbawockeez show at the Monte Carlo hotel in Las Vegas?
Yeahhhh. Let's take a moment and think about THAT one, shall we??
When the doctor tested her range of motion and pushed on her wrist and told her to push back, this mom was a little woozy.
Isabelle was so stressed out about the IV, that her veins shrunk out of sight and they couldn't get the IV in. They wrapped her good arm in warm packs to see if that would help, and we kept her injured arm covered up because she didn't want to look at it.
(this picture is fuzzy because she lifted her head off the pillow when she realized what I was doing and gave me a stern "Moooom!")
[This picture has been removed to protect the innocent]
[And because I promised I wouldn't show it to anyone but Dad. It's just her in the hospital bed. Sheesh.]
I took this one while she thought I was texting.
(it has since been removed per Isabelle's request)
By midnight, the x-rays were done. The doctor came in and surprisingly said there were no fractures.
Wait, can you say that again? No fractures?
Then what the heck is going on?
They determined that when the ball hit her hands, her wrist dislocated and then popped back into place. Then a large amount of blood began pooling in the wrist cutting off her hand blood supply (hence the cold hand) and made a huge lump (that looked like a broken bone).
She ate the PB and J sandwich that I brought so they could give her pain meds. Then we waited for those to kick in while she slept under warm blankets.
I pushed 3 plastic chairs together and laid down. My leg fell asleep and my neck doesn't turn to the right anymore.
Meanwhile Morrie was sleeping comfortably in his bed at the Venetian hotel.
After the pain medication kicked in, the doctor came back and made Isabelle move her wrist more to begin to dissolve the large contusion she now has. She wanted to make sure the pain was masked before we did this.
It was hurting me so much that I asked for some pain meds too.
We finally made it home around 3am.
There wasn't too much traffic.
We spent the day today icing, providing meds and working on the contusion when it was icey cold and numb. Well...mostly numb. I could hardly feel it.
Tonight we had already planned a triple birthday party for my nephew, myself and Izzy at my sister's house. I ordered the cake earlier in the week and explained that it was a 14th birthday and could they make it look girly and celebratory- but no old lady pastel flowers. They always do a really good job, so with even the vague direction, I knew it would turn out great.
Plus, it would be a nice surprise for Izzy on this difficult day.
This is what I saw when I picked up the cake:
Um...wait...I did NOT order a 4th of July cake. What is going on??
When the guy saw my confused/dissappointed look, he looked at the order slip with the directions.
"Oh, I am so sorry ma'm. Our decorator had about 30 cakes to do for today and I guess she just glanced at this and saw the 4 from the 14 part and thought it was a 4th of July cake".
The cake looks lame. It looks like it has a flying mustard bottle on it and a ketchup bottle squirting mystery sauce.
Sigh.....This mom might have started crying because I went to bed at 3 IN THE MORNING and didn't get a lot of sleep with the neighbors car alarm going off at 4:30 and my mother calling me at 8 am and my dear husband calling from his plush hotel bed at 9am and I am really stressed about my girl's pain and THIS IS NOT WHAT I ORDERED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It's kinda been a rough day around here.
2 comments:
You had me. Thought for sure you were going to say something along the lines of "compound fracture...surgery...out for weeks".
Glad Iz-a-licious is okay.
You all are a bunch of wusses. When I broke my arm at age 8 I used the very ball that caused me to break it to prop my arm up on the way to the hospital. And I never cried.
Now, stubbing my toe though--THAT brings out the tears (and swearing). Every time.
She really is tough and I'm glad she's kind of okay and that Morrie got such a great night's sleep.
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