Wednesday, April 25, 2007


He only has 2 speeds - dead run and unconscious. Typical boy. Typical of my sons anyway.

He's growing very fast these days and body parts keep getting banged on things that used to be in a different position, relatively speaking. He occasionally complains, but not much. We go through a lot of ice.

He was flying into the car and his knee collided with something that used to hit him about thigh height. He immediately tried to assume a fetal position -- with the one leg sticking out. Not good, but not particularly distressing (to mom). Then I saw the tears. He doesn't do that often. Must really sting.

"You OK?"

"No." (sounds more sulky than injured).

"Sorry to hear that. We'll go home and ice it."

Then he moved the knee while trying to buckle his seatbelt. I heard the whimper. Not good. He doesn't do that often at all. He reached forward to grab the ever-present video game and I saw another tear trickle down his cheek.

"I'm OK. It only hurts a little"

I touched the knee very lightly. Another whimper. Kneecap doesn't feel like it's quite in the right place. Doesn't move freely. Definitely not good. At least it feels like it's all in one piece.

"Do we go home and ice it, or do we need to go to the ER."

I get the answer I expect.


He starts to play the game and I hear a whimper every time I take a corner. If the game doesn't distract him, it must hurt.

"It really hurts when I move it, mom."

"Do we need to stop by the ER?"

This time he surprises me.

"I guess so."

I usually err on the side of waiting until morning, but it's early evening - weekday, how busy can they be? If the pediatrician's office was open, I'd call him instead. I probably should anyway, but the whimpering is starting to get to me.

I pull up in front of the ER entrance and dash inside for a wheelchair. When I come back out, a security officer has pulled up in front of me - waiting silently. I help my son out of the car. He stands, straightens the injured leg and smiles.

"I can walk on it! I don't think we need to go in."

"What happened?"

"I felt a pop and then it felt a lot better." (big smile)

"So we go home and ice it? "


"You're sure?"


"OK. Get in the car"

I smile at the security officer and say, "We may be back later."

No whimpering on the way home. I'm not quite sure what happened there, but he's walking without a noticeable limp. The knee is purple and it still hurts. It looks a little bigger than the other, but the ice pack seems to be helping. His pediatrician may get a call in the morning, but I'm pretty sure we won't be going back to the ER tonight.

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