...the levee's goin' to break....
File this under "shit happens."
Today my dear husband is at the hospital again. Not with me this time. Not with our daughter either (though she is still an inpatient, waiting to see her gastroenterologist on Monday). This time he's there with our son. Nothing too serious, I don't think, but all of the regular doctor's offices are closed.
This morning I made my way out of bed around 9 a.m., which is "sleeping in" to me. I took my morning medications and threw on a bathrobe. I figured I would go downstairs and make some coffee for myself and just enjoy the quiet. My husband was sleeping among the dogs and was relaxed, for a change.
Then I heard, "Mom? Is Dad up yet?"
"No, son. Why?"
"I broke my wrist last night."
Seems he had been leaving from a friend's house around midnight as they were heading out to go to a party or a club or something. He was walking through the yard in the dark and tripped over something. He fell and tried to break the fall with his wrist. This is how I've broken mine twice, and I know how painful it is. It amazed me that he waited all night.
"Why didn't you go to the ER?" I asked, after waking up my long-suffering husband.
"I didn't know if it was 'ER-worthy'," he said.
I looked at his wrist. It was swollen. I had a nasty looking knot that was probably a bone out of place. He was having trouble moving his hand. I'm imagining surgery and pins, but I hope not. I hope it's just a matter of setting it and putting it into a cast. He had been a little distracted last night. I was worried about him when he left, but I put it off as me just being a mom. Perhaps it was a little bit of intuition.
As for me, I'm just chomping at the bit to get moving around here, but I'm following doctor's orders. My leg, the one that had the catheter threaded into it, is very cold today. I have it under the blanket, and I'm wearing little white socks to try to keep myself warm. It's odd when you have one limb or one foot, one hand, that feels strangely cold or strangely different than the rest.
It isn't the only odd sensation I've had since the procedure. In fact, during the procedure itself, I had an ocular migraine, in which flashing lights form a chevron pattern and move across my visual field. I had another one this morning and had to stop everything, lest I fall. Now the cold foot. Odd. And everything smells terrible to me. I hosed down the couch with some fabric cleaner (hey, they didn't tell me I couldn't do that!) and wiped it down with a Handi-Wipe. I threw all of the cotton blankets into the wash. I sniffed all the throw pillows. Nothing. Yet everything smelled bad to me. Still does.
I came upstairs to put on the socks and the blanket. Everything smelled bad to me up here, too. But I can't strip the bed and wash everything at the moment. I settled for dousing myself with powder and perfume, spraying down the carpet, and settling back into the bed. Hopefully things will soon be rosy again. I suspect this all has something to do with what my body went through recently.
Right now I am waiting for a call or a text message to tell me what is wrong with our son's wrist. I wish I'd been able to take him there myself, but I think that sitting in the plastic chairs would have been the wrong thing to do today.
So here I sit, waiting. I will let you know in my next post how things went. Hopefully they will patch him up and send him home.
Peace - D
Update: My little 6'5" buddy has been treated and released. He has two breaks in the wrist, which they splinted at the ER. He has to go to the orthopedist on Monday for more treatment, as they "don't do casts" at the ER. I think I knew that somewhere in the back of my mind, but it's better to be safe. At least we know the score now.