My favourite way to spend a Friday night...

is NOT at the emergency department of the local hospital.

Since BC has started considering himself more of a ‘walking boy’ as I mentioned in a recent post, I’ve been waiting for the ‘fall’ that would land us at the emergency department. Come to think of it, I’ve been waiting ever since we left hospital after his birth. Firstly, I was sure there’d be seizures (and thankfully there weren’t). Then as he has become more and more mobile I have know that ONE of his many falls would end up really hurting.

Well, last night was the night.

It wasn’t much of a fall. He was on his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth, doing his ‘Spiderman’ walking (holding onto the wall for support) when he lost his balance and stumbled. It wasn’t a spectacular fall, more of a wobbly flop really, but he landed very badly with his foot underneath his bottom.

BC  rarely cries when he falls – I don’t know if that’s part of his personality, or just a consequence of having so many falls that makes it less of a traumatic event. It’s just part of his every day. So when he began to scream inconsolably, I knew that he’d really hurt himself.

So I pulled out my old First Aid Book and we went through the routine. Checked for movement, deformities etc. It seemed OK, not swollen yet, not twisted in some weird shape, just very sore. So following the book, we applied   ‘R-I-C-E’ – rest, ice, compression, elevation.

And remarkably, he fell asleep. He was so tired I guess it wasn’t that all that surprising, exhausted even more by all the tears.

But he woke an hour and a half later, even more inconsolable than before AND his foot had started swelling, so off we went to the Emergency department.

Fortunately, we live close enough to our local hospital for this to be a walk and fortunately also  it was very quiet, especially for late on a Friday night.

My last visit to an emergency room on a Friday night was in the UK and it was FULL of bloodied brawlers from nearby pubs. I will always remember hearing an inebriated and aggressive young guy tell the doctor (who had commented with concern about all the blood on his clothes) that it wasn’t his blood, but the guy he’d been punching. Instead, he said, just hurry up and check I didn’t bust a knuckle on his jaw. hhmm.

After a quiet wait of about an hour with a young girl who’d had an asthma attack and another child who was vomiting as our nearest company, the doctor had a look and was confident there wasn’t a break but he said because of BC’s lack of ‘story telling’ ability (I think that was his polite way of saying he wasn’t sure if BC was accurately displaying/conveying his actual level of pain because he can’t speak much….) he thought it best to x-ray just to be sure.

As we’re off on a plane tomorrow, I was happy to comply.

BC HATES x-rays. The site of the machine just seems to terrify him. I wonder why. He’s had several x-rays of his hips, so he knows it doesn’t hurt, but he still freaks at the sight.

X-ray over, there was no thankfully no break and we were back home after hours  with no further advice from the doctor other than ‘panadol for the pain’ and ‘come back in three days if it’s still really sore’. OH and one more thing apparently ‘we don’t believe in bandaging sprains anymore’. RIGHT. Time to get a new first aid book. Hard to keep up with the changes!

It was 1am when we got home and off to bed, tired but aware it could have been a much longer night.

Here’s hoping the sprain heals quickly and he’s back on his feet soon (preferably tomorrow when we fly North!).

See you on the other side of Sydney later in the week, when I’ll hopefully have some interesting observations about ABR therapy – we’re going to attend a seminar and to get our first assessment…..

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