A Broken Wrist

Hello and welcome to a first-day-of-February Saturday here at the Wannaskan Almanac. Today is February 1st. Rejoice! Rejoice! We made it through January! February is three days shorter than January and the days are getting longer. Those feel like wins to me, and let me tell you, after the last couple of weeks we've had, we could use some wins.

Last week's blog post, A Sick Week, ended on an ominous note with the Seventh Grader kicking off the weekend with a red, sore, puffy, crusty eye the morning of the Lego League qualifier in Grand Forks.

You know it's been a severe sick season when you text the coaches that your daughter has pink eye and they reply, "Let us know what you decide to do." Maybe my memory is fuzzy, but I recall a different response in a far lesser sick season when you let coaches know you're kid is potentially contagious, and the response is: Get your kid as far away from the team as possible. 

But desperate times call for desperate measures.

The Seventh Grader was determined to be there for her team, not only as a robot technician but to make sure the show would go on in her vital role as the Turtle Who Almost Died Three Times in their innovation project skit. 

Let me pause the story here to interject an invitation. If you find this Lego League stuff riveting and your curiosity has been piqued by the Turtle bit, you're invited to a Lego League Open House at the Warroad Public Library on Thursday, February 6, 4-5pm

Now, back to our story...

I put Bausch+Lomb Lumify eyedrops in her eye and off we went to the Lego League qualifier. Long story short, the Fourth Grader's Brick Bobs team was the 5th highest-scoring team of 17 in the robot game but did not qualify for the state tournament. The Seventh Grader's team, Warbotics, received 1st Place for their Innovation Project and DID qualify for the North Dakota state tournament. 

Emotional confetti flew! What a reward! Pushing through the (possible, I'm still not sure what it was) pink eye had been worth it! And - BONUS! - the redness, soreness, and crustiness of the eye had abated by Saturday night.

On Sunday, the kids slept. All felt well and calm at our house. I was optimistic we'd return to a normal week on Monday.

Monday started out optimistically and ordinarily. That evening, during basketball practice, the Fourth Grader vomited.

Tuesday he stayed home.

Wednesday, the Seventh Grader vomited. She went home.

On Thursday, both kids stayed home in the morning resting and doing homework. When the Seventh Grader successfully clocked a full 24 hours spew-free, they both went back to school.

Friday felt like I was sliding into home base after a smashing homerun hit. I'd made it. The worst was past us.

*Ring Ring*

Me: "This is Kim."

Caller: "Hi, this is the Nurse's Office."

*She pauses.*

I'm sure she didn't pause for dramatic effect, but to give me a moment to prepare myself for the undoubtedly impending bad news. My mind raced. We'd been through fever, cough, hack, vomiting, and other unpleasant bowel symptoms that I omitted for your sake, but you really need to know - we'd been through it all. What could it possibly be?

School Nurse: "Antonin fell on the ice while ice skating and says his wrist hurts."

I was too stunned to cry or shriek. It was more like a calm feeling of resignation. I even asked her, "Is it urgent? Should I come in immediately, or can I finish lunch?" She assured me it wasn't urgent and urgent care wouldn't open up until 1pm anyway.

On the drive over to the clinic, Antonin and I tallied the number of broken bones between his siblings and him. "Hey," I said, "You're the first kid to have two breaks. Um. Congratulations??"

He was a 5 on the 1 - 10 pain scale. As we waited for his x-ray he asked, "Mom, why am I calm?" 

No kidding, why was he calm. And why was I calm for that matter? And then I had an answer.

"You had a broken leg. And you remember what that feels like (an excruciating 10 out of 10 on the pain scale) so you have something to compare."

That seemed to comfort him. And maybe even give him a sense of pride. 

We just had a conversation about suffering this morning. I posited that suffering is not normal. My husband said it was. "Look all around us and in the news." 

Yes, he's right. But if there's one thing I've been reminded of as we navigated a third week of varying shapes of illness is that suffering is a sliding scale; a spectrum and that it's all relative. What you think you can't endure one week, becomes a walk in the park the next.

May you and yours get healthy, stay healthy, and be healthy. And if you get any red, puffy, crusty eyes in your household, I give 5/5 stars for the Lumify eye drops!