On Friday, I get the dreaded phone call from school... was it something about an excursion that hadn't been paid, did one of my boys do something naughty at school, or is someone sick or hurt? You just never know when you get the phone call... but this time it was the 'hurt' phone call and it was enough 'hurt' to give me a call to take him to the doctor.
When I got to the sick bay, my little man was bright red in the face from all his tears and holding an ice-pack on his wrist. I gave him a big hug and asked him what he had done. Essentially, he had fallen awkwardly on his hand and then his weight added more pressure on his hand/wrist/arm and he heard a 'crunch' which, of course, hurt. He showed me two points that it hurt the most, at his wrist and about 5 centimetres (2 inches) up his hand. He was probably in a little bit of shock and was just miserable. Last time he did an injury to his hand, horrible me didn't take him to the doctor's for 6 weeks after the incident, after the bruising around his knuckle just wasn't fading, and there was a small fracture... so off to the ER department for the 'just in case' X-ray, so we don't make the same mistake.
We arrived at the ER and there were only three groups of people waiting... a lady with her two grandchildren with one of them already with a cast on his leg, an elderly couple with their walking sticks and a middle-aged man in one of those fluro-vests you see tradies wear. We checked into triage and had to wait... wait... wait... as you usually do at the ER. As we waited, the 'school uniforms' arrived... there was a boy with a bloodied nose like he had broken it, there was a boy with a temporary sling on in the most pain you could see on a little boy's face, there was even a boy who was luck enough to get a ride in the ambulance after what looked like a broken arm. The elderly man with his walking stick said 'looks like lunch time is over at school!' We all laughed, as it was like every school in the district had someone representing them in the ER.
I said to my son that, as he's not crippled with pain, he will probably be put down the end of the list, as these more serious injuries get looked after. I did tell him to 'look more injured' than he was actually being so we could get seen to before all the blood and broken bones victims, as I was feeling a little out of place for what wasn't looking like a real injury at all. Luckily, they did see him in the order of how we all arrived. He was seen by the triage nurse, given an ice-pack, then the doctor almost immediately, before we were sent to radiology to get an X-ray, and we didn't really have to wait around then either.
After the X-ray, we were sent back to the waiting room and the boy on the ambulance stretcher was replaced by an elderly lady on a new stretcher wondering if she'd brought her jacket and purse, rather than looking sick or injured, like my prodigal son. The paramedic reassured her that it was all there.
Within minutes of sitting down, the doctor came back and to tell us that his hand isn't broken - no green fractures requiring plastic surgery for today. We were out the door (with a stop via the kiosk) within 1.5 hours of arriving. We love our little ER Department in our street... lots of lovely nurses and doctors and a great community feel.
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