I don't want to sound overdramatic, which I'm sure I do. I've been trying to think of how lucky I am. I don't have a baby with a terminal illness. My house didn't burn down. I didn't break any laws or anything. But still, considering all of the shit that has been piled into the last month, I deserve to cry my face off into terribly unhealthy food.
We moved back into our house after the week with no power, and I was feeling normal again. Aside from not having my car. I get the call that there is a "MASSIVE OIL LEAK" and my car went through three quarts of oil as it went down the driveway. SOOPER. Last oil leak I had was 350 dolla and he never mentioned the word MASSIVE. He says it will be a while. IT TOOK TWO WEEKS. I had to drive Darren's Subaru for two weeks, and I really hated it. I wanted my shaggin wagon. I had dreams of cleaning her and stuffing groceries in her, and driving her around in the sunny days we had with the windows down. Sad, huh?
Then, Superbowl Sunday rolls around, and I got Cohen dressed for the day. His right arm seemed to bother him. Not a lot, he only fussed. At my mom's, as we're eating delicious foods and watching the most boring game ever, we also notice him favoring his right arm. That night, Darren and I watched him play and he wouldn't put any pressure on his right hand, and was climbing up his chair with his elbow and keeping his hand in a fist. I knew something was wrong, even though he was happy as a clam.
The next morning, Cohen was so unhappy. He hardly ate any breakfast, he was holding his arm to his chest, and he had a thirty minute crying spell. He was only up for an hour before passing out for another hour. After that hour of sleep, he was up 45 sad minutes before going back to sleep for 2.5 hours. Not normal at all. I called his pediatrician at 9:05 (they open at 9) and was on hold for well over 20 minutes before finding out there are no appts until 7 PM that night! There's no way I can wait that long. I figure the Emergency Room is the place for us, aside from the 100 dollar copay we have. We only have a 20 dollar copy for Urgent Care, so I find the closest UC center, which is only 40 minutes away, and I decide we'll go there when he wakes up.
When we got there, I explained to the nurse his symptoms, and she said she could hardly notice his arm bothering him. I couldn't really either, but I insisted he was in pain all morning. He had a slight fever and said the doctor would be in shortly.
Douche canoe doctor walks in, and it all went downhill from there. I could tell he was a schmuck from the moment I saw him. He checked his ears, and said he might have an ear infection, or his ears are red from crying. Really? That's your diagnosis? He wrote me a prescription for antibiotics and everything. He messed with his wrist but Cohen didn't react too much, and the doctor was watching him play all over the room hardly favoring it at all. He even said he didn't anything was wrong; that perhaps it had been bothering him but it's not anymore. I wanted to believe that, but after seeing the morning my baby had, I just knew something was wrong. I pushed further, and said "No. Five minutes ago he would not put pressure on that hand. I'd put him on the floor and show you, but that would just be mean." The doctor agreed to x-ray him.
We sit and wait for x-ray, and I know it's going to be the hardest thing we've had to deal with. I had to sit Cohen on my lap, and force his arm down flat, while my sister held his fingers flat. He was screaming in pain, and I felt awful. The tech took 4 different shots, and we had more waiting to do. We sat in the waiting room, and the doctor came in, and let me tell you the exact words out of his mouth: "Well, he has a fracture. It's a transverse fracture and it's pretty uncommon for a boy this young. I'm going to have to report it to child services as protocol."
I was in shock [about the break]. My poor little man has a fractured arm, and we didn't even know! I told him I understood about the CPS call. I really didn't mind, since I had nothing to hide. I'm sure this protocol ha saved some kids from crazy parents or babysitters, so I truly didn't mind. He asked me a few questions like who watches him, who had seen him that weekend, and any bad falls he may have had. He said we'd have to put a splint on him and he'd send me to the orthopedic up north. I asked him if there was any way to see one in Longview [more local] and he was an ass about it. They splinted (is that a word?) Cohen's arm, then gives me the CD of his x-rays, the appt card for the ortho, and sends us on our way. DISCLAIMER: The doctor did not tell me to bring the CD of his x-rays to the ortho appt for the next morning. He did not write it on the appt card or the CD case, he did not tell me with his own words. Nothing.
Later that evening a cop shows up my door. "Protocol from the call to CPS." He questions me in my living room about who is around my kid and if I know what is considered abuse or not. I want to punch this guy in the balls. He then tells me it's a spiral fracture that is generally caused my twisting of the arm. The doctor told me it was a transverse fracture, and they're completely different, so I'm steaming mad.
The next morning, My mom and I take my sweet baby to the ortho appt. After a HELLish night of sleep [or lack of sleep], we're arrive and Cohen's actually in a pretty good mood. The casting lady is so sweet, Cohen loves her. She asks, "Do you have the CD of x-rays?" O.M.G. I tell her no; nobody told me to bring the freaking CD of x-rays. Can we go get copies? Can they email them? Anything? "No, but that's okay. We'll just have to take new ones." AAAHHHHHH. I have to sit through this again?! My one year old has a freaking broken arm, and you want to hold his arm down to take pictures of it. WHY?!
We get into the x-ray room and the first thing out of the tech's mouth is, "Any chance your pregnant?" and I say, "Yes, I am." He tells me I can't even be in the room, let alone right underneath the machine. I tell him I was in the room yesterday and he said the tech should not have allowed that. OMG GREAT. I hate this Urgent Care center with the fire of a thousand suns. They have pissed me off more ways than I can count. I sit outside the room listen to Cohen screaming his head off in pain, as my mom has to hold his teeny broken arm down.
He did alright during the casting, and has to have it on for 3 weeks. The first few days were awful. He was not himself. He'd barely eat, barely sleep, and wanted to be held constantly. I was exhausted. Today is a better today. It's day 4 with the cast, and he's napping in his crib for the first time since he had it on. I can see his spirits a little brighter, and he finished his breakfast, so I'd say a happy mama. The only thing currently stressing me out is the CPS bullshit. A social worker came over and interviewed me Tuesday, and then Darren & I together on Wednesday. The next step is to have a health care professional review the case, examine Cohen, and then basically say "case is closed, no sign of abuse" which is exactly what she'd say because Cohen is perfect and I could never harm him in a million years. I just feel humiliated in so many ways. The cop who came over is our neighbor. Does he think we hurt our kids? I want to walk over and yell at him for judging me, even if it was his job. Will our names always be in the system? When Cohen gets hurt playing little league in 5 years will this come up and bite us in the ass? I just have no idea. The fact that I can even be put on the same level as someone who would hurt their child causes me so much distress, I can't seem to wrap my brain around it. I can only pray that people in general understand how this all played out and that I am not one of those types of parents. I guess if this ever comes up again, I know the right questions to ask. I can't think about this anymore though. I need to go to my happy place--Pinterest.
Here's my baby in his cast. I chose red for Valentine's Day.
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