About half past ten in the morning we had a phone call saying Daughter had hit her wrist on the edge of the pool while doing backstroke. They thought it was broken. Because of a big basketball competition in progress at school, one of the hospitals was very conveniently on site. So she was put in an ambulance and Husband was dispatched to meet her at the hospital.
I got myself dressed with plans to get on with some work. I couldn't help thinking of the first time Daughter had broken her arm when she was about four. Her arm was swelling before me, so I rushed her to casualty at High Wycombe. Every time any member of the hospital staff approached her or even came near her, she emitted piercing screams of agony. They can't have been very busy, or perhaps they couldn't put up with her histrionics, because we were rushed through like royalty. She left the proud owner of a cast all ready for signing.
About a week later, her godless parents were staying with us and the children were upstairs playing. Suddenly Daughter appeared at the door with a triumphant expression on her face. She looked like a little elf, in a lime green A-line dress. Her hair was cut in a cross between a bob and pudding bowl as we attempted to keep the regular infestation of nits under control.
My addled brain tried to work out the meaning of the triumph on her face. Until eventually I spotted that she was holding her arm cast in the other hand! The swelling had subsided so much, she'd just slipped it off. Off we went back to the hospital and in no pain at all, we were rewarded with a three hour wait to get her replastered.
So thinking about the last time and worrying about this time I achieved nothing.
Daughter and Husband got back from hospital after lunch. Broken ulna; no gym for THREE MONTHS, two cancelled competitions one of which was Singapore. No swimming for three to four weeks, and then only leg work. No swim competition in Perth because despite trying four times to qualify, her time when she hurt her arm was forty milliseconds off the qualifying time.
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8 comments:
OH NO!! Poor daughter!! I hope she is not too devastated - the three months will go past quite quickly and she'll be swirling and twirling before she knows it!!
(Tell her she can come over any time she likes and play with the cats!!)
Chris and I send our love
C x
No! Poor Daughter! poor poor daughter! (I am always scared of whacking my wrist on side of pool while doing backstroke so I usually stop the arm work half way down the pool and annoy everyone around me since I slow down big time!)...
Is it the same wrist as the arm?
Poor daughter. At least her legs will get strong and then she can run to Perth!
Your poor daughter! So brave though. I would scream the house down if I broke anything. Hope she's not too bored over the next three months, at least she can get into the pool again soon...
Oh dear. That's awful, the poor thing.
Is it the arm she writes with too?
Sending very best, healing wishes to her.
xx
ah, man, that's awful!
she must have whacked that poolside extremely hard.
at least she's strong... she'll heal fast. but too bad. i'm so sorry.
there's a blog award for you at my place...
Hi Carol, she's remarkably cheerful but give her a couple of weeks without any exercise and she'll be fed up I expect. Thank you for the cat offer!
Pacha, I've always wondered why this doesn't happen more often, but daughter told me that you count your strokes from a flag that's always in the same place. Yes, same arm as last time, too.
Yvonne, when we go back to the hospital for a check up in two weeks they might say she can swim with legs only for a while. I think she might cycle in the gym too!
Lane, NO! Not writing arm thank god, although she still needs help cutting up food, doing her hair etc. It's like have tiny children again.
Laurie, thank you. Yes, it makes me shudder to think how hard, but you're right, she will heal quickly.
Ooooh, Laurie, thank you. An award? How exciting.
Children are born rascals, I'm convinced of it. Our job is to civilise them!
But poor daughter. What a shame, and how unlucky is that? We've just emerged from the 3-months no-anything after small girl's leg break. It seems like no time at all now, and really she's been fine for the last month; but I remember what drag it was at the start. Hugs heading your way, for all of you.
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