Lo fell off a trampoline on Saturday and landed on her left arm. She was spending the night with Mamoo, of course, in the Land of Dog Bites and Broken Bones (Sorry, Mamoo, I just liked the phrase).
She was a little sad and quiet when she came home yesterday and woke in the middle of the night hurting, so we got an appointment with an orthopedic doctor this afternoon. When we arrived at 1:00, the waiting room was full of geriatrics, a couple of them on oxygen, several with walkers or wheel chairs. The only magazines to be found were AARP and Golf Digest. Lola took one look around and asked, "Are you sure we're in the right place? These are all old people." Two hours into our wait for x-rays, we'd pretty much decided they'd all been young when they came in. But before anyone actually expired before our very eyes, we were finally called back.
Turned out she has a fracture, which means no softball this season and no bike, scooters, running, climbing etc. for six weeks. The doc told her it was safe to do her homework, though.
Oh, and she can't pick up anything heavier than Racky (pictured above), so Jack will have to be her personal slave.
22 comments:
no softball?! That totally bites.
The picture itself is beautiful. It has composition.
and of course . . . poor Jack.
No softball for 5 weeks, T. NOT the entire season. She's gotta get that trophy, you know.
Rupert beat me to it.
Ah crap. Poor Lola.
Ahh, the trampoline. So fun yet so, so dangerous. I suffered more head trauma, torso trauma and just busted stuff on those things and we didn't even own one. That sucks. I think the lesson here is, much like discoteques and those gyro things that hurl you around, the trampoline looks like fun it just ends up sucking.
Poor Lo; Poor Jack; Poor Tania (did you read Golf Digest? Perhaps a new sport...); Poor Biggy who probably looks just as sad as Lo due to disruption of softball season.
Kathy, you always did understood me best.
Huh?
dammit!! "understand"
Ladies and Gentlemen, I rest my case.
hey, it was just a typo . . . . typos can be endearing . . .
[carefully puts away guy card]
Poor Lola!
Typo as metaphor.
what about poor mamoo. i had to watch the poor child in pain. then greg tells me lola can't spend the weekend with me anymore. i need some help here people.
I consider Biggy, condoner of motor scooters, wheel chair races, and trampoline tricks (and who calls me an overprotective party pooper) absolutely complicit.
In almost twenty years of child-rearing, this is the first broken bone. His child.
Sorry Mamoo --- Poor Mamoo, too. My nephew broke his wrist at my parents house a few years ago when my Mom (mother of 6, grandmother of 8, premie/NICU nurse for 20 + years) was babysitting. My nephew was fine shortly after, but think it took my Mom a few years to recover.
Now if only my little brother would stop telling her that he was born with a cleft palate since she smoked while she was pregnant with him....
Poor little thing...having a sweet rabbit to hold onto will probably make things a little bit better...but maybe you should get her a pony...a miniature pony...Biggy could probably build a barn in your back yard for it.
or, maybe she can put her little pony in her almost completed playhouse in her back yard.
mammoo, remember what I said about her not coming to your house anymore?
too-shay, greg
too-shay, greg
oops, my finger stuttered.
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