Let me preempt this by assuring that everything turned out
as well as it could have. I know for
absolute certain that the prayers from many loving family and friends helped
make it so.
Also, I would have kept people better informed, except that that morning I left my phone at the store by accident, so I was limited to my mom's ancient phone. But at least it had a camera in it, too.
20 years ago, you constantly heard about children breaking
their bones when playing on the monkey bars.
These days it’s another venue: the trampoline. This past Friday my 5-year old became another
statistic.
Leora, my timid, cautious little Kindergartner was happily
jumping on the big trampoline and came down on her left arm wrong- she didn't even fall OFF. I wasn't there, but
fortunately got home less than 10 minutes later.
My brother, who had been watching the kids, right away iced
Leora’s arm. We braced her arm by
cradling it in an old wrist brace and wrapping it with an Ace bandage. Her sling was my sparkly pink scarf. She was screaming and crying while I got
everything arranged to take her to the hospital.
My mom, who’s had almost 30 years of practice at motherhood-
9 years as a grandma- thoughtfully grabbed a few provisions (Leora’s favorite
blanket, pillows, a sweater…), and we hauled ourselves to UMC (University
Medical Center). By the time we got
there, Leora had not only stopped crying, but was bubbly and happy. She charmed the triage staff with her giggles
and characteristic sweetness.
She was in good spirits for the next hour, until she was
called back with another little boy whose arm was in a sling. But I didn't hear any screaming come from his
x-ray room next to us.
*cue my breaking heart*
Shortly later they took us to a room in the ER. We met with the attending ER doctor, who upon
initial examination seemed fairly confident that Leora had probably just jammed
her arm. It wasn't long before he came
back with the x-ray results and news: her arm was broken.
The following 6 hours brought MANY doctors, nurses, and even
(thankfully) family to our little room in the children’s ER. The main concern seemed to be about whether
she would have nerve damage. Various
people asked her to show them a “thumb’s up”, an “A-OK sign”, and to cross her
middle and pointer finger. Since those
requests usually puzzled her, I had her sign her name for them instead. They were always delighted. And she was always able to do it.
Fortunately Leora hadn’t eaten anything since before noon,
so when it was determined that surgery was necessary, we didn’t have to put it
off. Another trauma patient needed the
pediatric orthopedic specialist, so the doctor was already in the building. They hoped to get Leora in first, while they
prepped the other patient, but in the end the other patient’s needs were greater.
At one point before surgery, we managed to get Fred’s
parents and my dad into Leora’s room with me and my mom. My dad teased that the staff might make
Leora leave so there wouldn't be too many people in the room. The doctor was nice enough to pull up the x-ray
scans, and we got to see the break for ourselves. Leora had looked forward to seeing her arm
bones, but by then she was blissfully morphined to sleep, after several hours
of whimpering and squirming.
It was so great having family there. My mom and I were overjoyed that my dad snuck
dinner in for the 2 of us. But more than
that, Leora got to see them before she zonked out, getting hugs from all, and
even a fluffy bunny from Gramma O’sen. Before
everyone left, the grandpas gave her a blessing, which was also reassuring for
me.
They wheeled my little princess into the OR at 11:00 that
night, 8 hours after the accident. I had
felt my Heavenly Father’s Love keeping me together through the whole ordeal,
but as I had to walk away from the doors to the OR, I was finally overcome with
emotion. I’m so grateful that my mom was
there with me. And that I felt so
strongly that my Leora would be OK.
The surgery took about ½ an hour, as they had
predicted. They let us back in to see
her at about midnight. She was resting
peacefully, her arm neatly wrapped up, concealing the 2 pins securing her
humerus bone (upper arm) so that it will heal correctly over the next 4-6
weeks. Next week they’ll cast it, once
the swelling has gone down.
(we had a great view from our room! It was beautiful at night, too)
At 1:00am we were finally led to her room. I was afraid the machines would keep her up,
but she was able to drift off and stay asleep until 7:30am. My mom stayed by her side while I slept a bit
on the fold out couch bed thingy. In the
morning they cleared Leora to eat regular food after she kept down liquids just
fine. She enjoyed French toast sticks
and a little bowl of grapes. The grapes
were kind of tart, so when we asked if she was going to eat them, she assured
us that she’d already eaten one.
Again, the staff was great.
She was her happy little self, if not a bit sleepy. At first it looked like we might have had to
stay the entire day there, but in the end they were able to release us at about
noon.
Her biggest complaint through the whole ordeal wasn’t even
her broken arm. She hated the IV in her
right arm and she was very hungry, repeatedly reminding us to take her to
Chick-fil-A when it was all over. Of
course, moving her arm was terribly painful, especially before the surgery, but
all in all I think it went as well as it could have.
Now for some “highlights” of the experience… or at least
moments that made me (and others) smile:
She was a little scared when she met the first doctor. He was very relaxed and cheerful, so she
warmed up to him quickly. Out of the
blue she asked, “Do you have any elevators?”
He chuckled and assured her that they do.
When she asked if she could go on one, he made a deal with her that she
could, whenever she finished the picture she was coloring (this was before we
knew her arm was broken and that we’d be there for a long time). The next time she saw him, she immediately
asked, “How many elevators are there??” The
next morning she was excited when we assured her that she would get an elevator
ride, since we were on the 5th floor. It was just so sweet to how such a little
thing could be such a happy distraction for her.
While waiting for our turn in the OR, Leora started crying
more, feeling the pain and fatigue. In
mid sob her eyes fluttered wide open and she brightly asked, “Will I get a pink
Christmas tree for Christmas??” My mom
and I seized the distraction, asking her what kind of ornaments we should get,
whether we’ll top it with a star or an angel, where we’ll put it… They’re
relatively cheap, so we assured her that we’ll have one.
When the night staff got us settled in our room after
surgery, they asked if there was anything they could get to help soothe
her. We mentioned her cat obsession,
which sent the ladies on a hunt to find anything cat themed. When she woke up in the morning, she had a
little hand sewn kitty in one arm, and her bandaged arm was resting on a pillow
that had a pillowcase with a Christmas kitten pattern, that she got to bring
home as well.
Throughout the entire ordeal, we made a point of telling
people about how much she loves kitties, so she was delighted that everyone
wanted to know about her pets, her favorite toys, why she loves cats… it was
perfect.
Anyone who knows Leora well, knows she has an intense,
irrational fear of dogs. We’ve tried to
help her get over it for years, but it persists. Well, the staff had already completed the
discharge papers, removed her IV and we were preparing to leave, when there was
a soft knock and someone opened the door.
In padded a big yellow lab with one of the hospital patient support
people. Of course Leora’s initial
reaction was fear, but we convinced her that Morgan was a sweet, gentle
dog. They even got him to lie flat on
the floor, except for his tail happily wagging.
Leora bravely pet him a few times.
I was so proud of her, and grateful that their kind gesture didn’t end
in a traumatized 5-year old.
(building with the magnetized nuts in a sort of library/activity room in the children's wing)
The children’s wing of the hospital is incredible. It’s only about 2 years old, so we hadn’t
even known it existed until yesterday.
As when we arrived at the ER the previous day, Leora was in bouncy high
spirits when we left the hospital. She
loved every little thing we passed, especially a corridor that was rigged with
cameras, so that the projected screen interacted with her whenever she passed
close to the wall (i.e. the wall appeared covered in butterflies that would
scatter when she came close to the wall).
There were also numerous buttons all throughout. Some produced sounds, others lights… Her
favorite was the button that signaled a model train to emerge from its tunnel
and chug around a platform above our heads.
We told her how much her model train enthusiast Uncle Ralph would have
loved to see it with her.
As promised, we took her to Chick-fil-A on our way
home. She started expiring as we pulled
in to the restaurant, but she still managed to enjoy her waffle fries and a
chocolate milk. She drifted blissfully
off to sleep when we got home. When she
woke a few hours later, it was as if she didn’t even have a cast. I was constantly getting after the kids to calm
down so she wouldn’t get accidentally bumped.
She has been bright and happy ever since.
We are so deeply grateful for the love and support from so
many dear family and friends- I only wish my loving husband could have been here. I find it
so ironic that Leora ended up being the first child to break a bone, especially
compared to her rambunctious siblings.
But it’s also clear that she’ll get through this with the most grace of
the bunch.
“Leora” means “Light or light hearted” in Hebrew. I don’t think any other name could fit her
more perfectly.
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