Captain Science had an unexpected and tragic lesson about gravity today when he took a bad fall out of our Bradford Pear tree (to which I affectionate refer as the “stinking rotting fish tree”). The Tank came running up to the house to let us know what happened. The Captain was white as a sheet and his lips were absolutely bloodless. His arm definitely did not look right. We packed the kids up in the Battlestar Galactogogue (our minivan), dropped The Tank off at my aunt’s house, and whisked Captain Science to the urgent care, where, after a still unresolved throwdown over his name in the records, the urgent care people pronounced his arm oh-so-very broken, with a side of “maybe that needs pins.” The Captain’s records were sent over to the children’s hospital so we could get him looked at by the orthopedist.
We loaded everyone back up into the Battlestar, swung by the house to pick up extra diapers for Babypie, and trekked ITP (that’s “inside the Perimeter” for you non-Atlanta folks) to the children’s hospital, and waited in an ER that was probably rife with flying pig flu germs. We finally got a room, Captain Science’s arm was put in a bright red cast, and we were finally sent home after several hours to await a phone call letting us know whether we’re going back tomorrow so surgery can be performed on the Captain’s arm to place two pins in the bone.
He’s currently conked out from the pain, trauma, and first-ever dose of Lortab (which comes in a liquid form, FYI). I’m hoping tomorrow doesn’t bring a phone call we desperately do not want. I’m currently cleaning my house at nearly 2am, because I’m still so shaken up that sleep doesn’t seem like an option. I have no idea how I’m going to modify our homeschool curriculum to allow for the Captain’s one-armed state, because of course, it was his writing arm that got broken. We’re skipping science lab tomorrow, but I don’t know how much longer after that he’ll need a break, how much work he’ll be up for, or how we’ll get around the whole “can’t use his writing arm” thing when writing is an area he really need to work on.
My poor, brave baby barely cried, after the initial injury, but he sure is scared about the prospect of surgery, however simple and brief. I know we’re secular homeschoolers, but if you can find a prayer (or even a positive thought) in your heart for Captain Science, we’d sure appreciate it.
