Friday, March 11, 2011

A minor emergency

We host the church Bible study at our home each Thursday night.  It's nice that we are at home, furthering our relationship with God and with friends; all the children tucked safely into bed...

However, last night as people were arriving, I was heading off to the hospital with Abigail.  Why?  Well, it seems I dislocated her elbow.

I was rushing about before people were due to arrive - picking up children's toys and clothing that had been left lying around, scooting older children off to bed and generally trying to make the house somewhat suitable for visitors.  You know the drill.  And sweet Abigail was tired and just wanted her Mummy.  She followed me around, got in front of me, stretched up her little arms for me to pick her up and comfort her.  You know - she generally got in my way.

And what do I do?  Pick her up by her left wrist with my free arm and move her out of the way.  Bad Mummy!  Bad, bad Mummy!

Immediately she cried.  Not a "that's not what I want!" cry.  A pain cry.  I stopped rushing around like a headless chook, picked her up and tried to comfort her.  But she didn't want to move her arm.  I gave her a breastfeed and dressed her (she had been running around in a nappy - only partly ready for bed), but she was still refusing to use that left arm.

So, leaving Michael to explain to our guests, I left to answer awkward questions at the hospital.  Questions that weren't so awkward after all.  Apparently it's a very common injury.  That didn't help me feel any better.  I still felt horrid, even after the triage nurse's kind words of encouragement such as, "This is child number 5? The oldest is only 7?  And you've never had a child with this injury before?  Don't feel bad!  That's quite an achievement!"  Nope.  Didn't help.  Still doesn't.  I still feel horrid.

After an initial examination a tall, kind-looking, fun-loving, smiling young man came in and introduced himself.  Dr. Ryan looked at me, explained that yes, it was a dislocated elbow and that the procedure was simple.  He took Abigail's little arm in his large, gentle hands.  Manipulated the joint slightly and after a small cry from Abigail, she was quite happy to use that arm to it's full capacity!  He smiled at me and said, "It's one of those things that is great to treat.  You can see the result immediately."  That gentle giant of a man then left the room and we were free to go.

So, in the end it all worked out fine.  We were away from home less than an hour.  I got back in time to join the last half of Bible study and most importantly, Abigail shows no signs of even having had an injury.  Does that make me feel any better?  Nope.  Not a bit.

So, let's just forget grand and go for World's Worst Mother.

Only by His grace,

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