I have two kids.  One the studious, cautious older one and the other the multi-sensory, impulsive younger one.  Both boys.  I was told by many that it was inevitable.  When it happened to the youngest one, it wasn't as much of a surprise as it was the fact that it happened sooner than I thought it would.  At age 3 my little active risk-taker decided to get down from the top bunk of a bunk bed, which he was not supposed to be on in the first place and KNEW he was not ever supposed to climb up, the fast route.  That meant jumping down from the top bunk.  Yup, he landed on his right elbow and crushed the bone.  OUCH!  We did the whole Emergency Room thing, waiting hours to see the doctor.  Before we even had a diagnosis of the break, my little guy lay there on the bed in the ER asking if we were still going to go the party we were supposed to go to that evening.  He never needed pain medication!  Instead, we had our older son picked up by a friend and waited in ER for hours to finally hear that surgery was not going to be necessary.  Phew!  They put a soft cast on him, then later we saw a specialist who put a hard cast on him.  To this day he cannot bend his right arm past a 90 degree angle.  Believe it or not, we've actually run into grown men who have wielded their arms showing my son the same thing had happened to them.  Well, no military service in his future.  He now refers to his good arm as his "lucky arm".

So that was the first of our experiences with broken boy bones.  Now we have our oldest in a cast.  It all happened so quickly (as it usually does) and with me right there when it happened.  We were in the front yard doing the hedges and hauling branches to the bottom of the hill of our yard.  It was getting near lunch and we were almost done, but I told the boys to take a break (no pun intended) and I would finish up.  They decided to join their friends who were riding their bikes and jumping a couple of ramps in the cul-de-sac in front of our house.  There was a bit of foreshadowing to this event now that I look back (there always is).  My oldest was sitting under our big magnolia tree watching me cut the hedges and he made a comment about how he is a good observer and learns by watching closely.  He asked if he could use the hedger.  I proceeded to let him after giving him a short "lesson" on how to use it safely.  He cut for a minute or two on his own with me watching and then he said he just wanted to see what it was like and was done.

I remember him watching and observing closely the boys jumping ramps and then going in the house to get his helmet.  I remember thinking, although some day he should try the ramps, he would never do it TODAY because I know how cautious he is and how he is not my risk-taker regarding physical activity.  Mentally, he is a risk-taker, but not in sports and stuff.  Then I remember calling out to him how he really should know how to do wheelies first before attempting a ramp.  The ramps were about a foot high at the highest point.  Ok, as in most cases I would stop what I was doing, go to him and explain how you need to get your butt off the seat when you jump a ramp, have lots of momentum and speed, pull up on the handlebars, etc.  But I really didn't think he would actually try it, so I kept on working away on the hedges.  Next thing I know, I turn and see him just as he made it over the top and fall to the right side of his bike.  The rest is history and I don't care to describe it.  It rests firmly in my memory.  Ughhh, the way it cuts to the core of a mom to see her son injured!  One can be WAY calmer when it is not your own flesh and blood.

We are definitely going to have to review our "emergency procedure plan" again after this event.  What commenced hardly looked like it had a plan.  It was almost comical, but at the time, there was nothing funny about it.  I had my oldest sit on the steps in front of the door while I went into the house to get ice (oh, good one, leave the injured behind), but instead, I didn't get ice.  Something made me go straight to the phone and call 911 (didn't they teach me to stay with the injured and get someone ELSE to go get the phone?).  Simultaneously, the boys come in the house.  I'm going for an ice pack while on the phone with 911 and my youngest proceeds to run around the house SCREAMING, "CALL 911....CALL 911!!!".  The 911 lady on the phone is trying to get information from me while I'm trying to keep my oldest from passing out whose face has lost all color.  Amidst the yelling of my youngest, the various rantings of my injured son and the lady on the phone asking me my location, phone number and injury information, my neighbor enters and is greeted by our dog jumping all over her.  I think this was right at the time when the 911 operator was telling me to secure all pets before the paremedics arrive.  Right!  Somewhere along the line, I had asked my youngest to get one of our neighbors and our neighbor must have been on her way and run into him.  The 911 operator was getting pretty upset with me because I kept trying to say calming things to my injured son, give directions to my yelling son and address the neighbor who just walked in the door.  At least I had given the operator my address several times.  Isn't that all they need IN AN EMERGENCY?  But then she proceeds to ask me about the injury and tell me not to apply pressure (which I think I was doing lightly to stop the bleeding) if it's possible the wrist is broken (did I mention it was the wrist?).  I finally get my youngest to get some things together to get ready to go, giving him something constructive to do.  My neighbor manages to put the dog away.  Poor thing.  My dog thought it was a party not an emergency.

The paramedics arrive.  They bandage up the wrist.  We are given clearance to drive ourselves to the ER.  We get there.  They do x-rays and it's clearly broken.  We request our Dr. we had with our younger son's broken arm.  They transfer us by ambulance to another hospital (bumpy long ride with the paramedic sharing stories of his broken bone injuries including a dislocated knee cap!) so we can meet our dr. there.  After several waiting periods, we finally get the word that they must put my son under and set the bone.  We comfort and assure our son that all will be well.  Meanwhile we are praying our hearts out and asking all those we know to pray.  I am definitely grateful for my friends and family and the ability to ask for prayers and good thoughts at the drop of a hat!

After 11 hours of the ordeal, we headed back home.  Thankful for the doctors who were excellent and for a good outcome.  All the hospital employees from the lady in triage to the anesthesiologist kept saying how smart and brave our son was.  They all commented on how articulate and good spirited he was (he never complained or cried) and how he was the best patient they had had all day or in a while.  At one point my son said he was so smart because we homeschool.  Ok, put us on the spot!!!  It WAS pretty funny when a nurse would come in and say something like, "So you have an owie today, huh?" in a sing-song voice and our son would proceed to engage them in an adult level conversation.  Then they would change their tone.  The anesthesiologist said our son had them laughing because he had been talking up a storm right before he went under and then just picked right up where he left off when he was coming out of the anesthesia.  I believe they were talking about car makes and models.

You know, you keep your head high and try to maintain a positive attitude in front of your child.  But while my son was in the operating room, I spent some time just crying and praying in the waiting room bathroom.  I remember thinking that my children are my "gold" in life.  And then I immediately remember thinking of the quote by Bah'u'llh that says, "O SON OF BEING!  Busy not thyself with this world, for with fire We test the gold, and with gold We test Our servants."  How true!  Our greatest tests are about what we treasure the most.  It makes sense.  I'm not going to have to kick in all those virtues over a broken dish like I'm going to have to with my son's broken arm.  It's just the way the world is set up.  But a friend reminded me when I shared this with them that in the same breath, Bah'u'llh says we will, "never be called upon to meet a test greater than (our) capacity to endure."

So here we are keeping close to home promoting healing.  Although there will be no swimming or Tae Kwon Do for our oldest for the rest of the summer, we will try to continue looking on the bright side of the situation.  "At least it isn't my right wrist that I write and draw with." my son said just after the break before the paramedics arrived.  He is an avid writer and artist.  Now he has another experience in life to write and draw about.