Last week Thursday Lootie was complaining about belly pain. It was before practice, so we figured he was just trying to weasel around having to go (which is pretty much the norm for him, 80% of the time). He went to practice, had a good time, but on the ride home, his belly was still hurting. He felt nauseous and threw up on the sidewalk outside of our house. “Everytime I eat hotdogs,” he said. He threw up a couple more times, which isn’t completely abnormal for him. When he gets a fever, he’s spacey; when he’s queasy, he pukes. Totally Lootie. But strangely, he wanted to sleep on the couch because of his belly pain, instead of his bed.

At 1am I woke up to Frank, fully clothed, telling me he was taking Lootie to the ER. “It just seems like appendicitis, he said.” Frank is a Correctional Officer. Not a nurse, and totally not interested in medicine. I thought he was completely over-analyzing, but I didn’t stop them from going, or put up too much of a fight, like I normally would have. I think my adrenaline kicked in, despite me riding him a bit for being so silly. I got chilly and couldn’t bring myself back to bed, opting to sit up on the couch instead.

We kept in phone contact, texting and calling. Around 4pm Lootie was distinctively worse, and the nurses gave him some morphine. They weren’t calling it appendix yet, but wanted to get a CT scan to confirm or rule out. At 8am I got all the kids on the bus. Still nothing. Lootie was worse; fevery. My mom came over to sit with Franny (whose tutor was here) while I went up to either relieve or support Frank in the ER.

At 11am, the Resident had Lootie pee in a cup to check him for a urinary tract infection. Just as she was exiting, the General Surgeon, who we became acquainted with when Franny was in the hospital, came by, but his hands on Lootie’s abdomen and said, “Oh yeah. Appendix. Let’s get him up to the OR.” He told us there was one possible person ahead of us, and it might be quick to get him up there, and might be 2 hours. Frank went home quickly to check on things with Franny, while I waited with Lootie. Thankfully, things went faster than planned, and he was in the OR by 1pm.

I waited, anxiously, but somewhat relieved that he was in good hands, and not still waiting for a diagnosis. After an hour and a half, the surgeon came back in to talk to me. He asked me if my book was good, and then he told me that Lootie’s appendix had ruptured. “So, it’s not going to be the 1-day, go-home-tomorrow deal we were hoping for,” he explained. “It could be 4 days, it could be a week. We just don’t know. I was still able to do everything laparoscopically, but depending on how things swing, we might have to put a drain in there, or do longer-term antibiotics.” I started to cry. Frustrated, scared, relieved, sad. He found me some tissues. “He’s going to be OK. Okay? He’ll be fine.”

Strangely, he ended up in the same room Franny was in one month ago. The first three days were very hard. Lootie was in a lot of pain, his temperature was up, and all symptoms were pointing to an abscess. Frank stayed at night, while I stayed during the day. Because of his slow progress by the 4th day, and the intolerance to the sensation of the heavy-duty antibiotics through the IV, the surgical staff thought a PICC line was appropriate. Though it was another scary unknown, it was necessary. It took about and hour and a half to have it done (they had a special PICC Nurse), but most of that was prep; the entire procedure was done bedside. Lootie did very well with it, better than I did.

Within a day he was doing better. The doctor took one look at him and said, “Carlito. You’re going home tomorrow.” Of coarse Lootie was thrilled. Whatever leftover infection that may be/was brewing was under control, or non-existent. Since he can have a home health nurse come to administer the meds via the PICC at home, and he was doing well, he was cleared to leave the hospital. I was still nervous, apprehensive. I mean, I don’t like the hospital either, but it felt safer there. Home with a PICC is kind of scary and totally out of the norm for most people. First pin care on an external fixator, and now PICC line maintenance? I told them I didn’t want to learn it or touch it. As much as I’ve thought about being a nurse, I’ve had enough nursing for a while, now thankyouverymuch.

Carlito is still doing well, carrying around his pump (it works constantly administering a small dose to keep the line clear and a BIG dose every 6 hours) in the fanny pack. It makes me nervous when he’s sleeping (I worry about him ripping it out or something), and just in general. He’s scheduled to have a re-check on Tuesday and hopefully get rid of the PICC as well.

I’m completely ready for our house not to resemble a doctor’s office, though, and my patience is not what it was a couple weeks ago. Franny still needs assistance and care, as does Carlito. I can’t seem to keep up with all of my household necessities, but I try to do my best. My brain is fried, tired and stressed. My boss, bless her heart, has gifted me an hour massage for this Sunday. I’ve never (ever) had a massage and am both excited and nervous.  Someone brought dinner by for us last night, and that was wonderful. We haven’t had a homecooked meal in a long, long time, it feels like.

Today Franny got the external fixator removed and a cast put on. There was actually a foot-holder with a strapped harness that hooked around the top rod, but this picture was taken while it was off. You can see him playing his brother’s handheld game. He usually played a game or watched television as I did the pin care and wrapped things up.

Franny started out very shy, not wanting to even look at the fixator. I’d have to cover it up with an ace bandage because he couldn’t stand looking at the rods and didn’t want other people to see them. For days. Weeks. And then one day he was liberated, I think, by Dante’s soccer team friends. The boys gathered around to ask questions and say “hello” and some of them would freak out at the sight of the rods. Franny would pull the covering back to show more, boldly. They told him he was a tough kid, saying words that empowered him. He’ll even bend his knee up to touch his ear with it, which makes his dad’s stomach sick.

Casts are pretty common, but the fixators you don’t see every day, and sometimes people will hold their gaze longer, or the kids (and moms especially) will be uncomfortable looking at it.  I told him, hey, smile and keep on going. And he did. Sometimes he’d even wave.

Even though going from a fixator to a cast is progress, there is some… comfort in routine. There are also pluses with the fixator, like being able to wash and massage his toes. He likes that. But he was very eager to get a cast, regardless, as casts are more “normal” in the realm of broken legs.

He wanted his hardware.

As creepy as they might be, I’m rather thankful to them for holding my son’s leg back together.

A blue cast was requested, and granted. He also got this toy. Blue was the day’s theme.

Back to elevating the leg above the heart again for a few days. We’ve got that down pat, now, though.

It is the third week of The Broken Leg.

Franny is doing… OK. He had a 2-week check-up and things went fine. Though not a huge amount of healing had taken place, as expected, his bones were still aligned and had not shifted, which is good. The fibula, the smaller of the two shin bones, was still very visibly broken, but the nurse said she saw “bridging” which was good. They did not set the fibula. The tibia, the larger bone, has all the rods in it and I could not see where it had broken with my unskilled eye.

Besides checking alignment, he was also scheduled to have his stitches removed. I couldn’t tell you how many he had, but they went from the outside of his left heel to the inside ankle bone – about 75% of the circumference of his foot. The others were on his shin where the bones had broken. I, personally, do not think the lady was as gentle or meticulous as she should have been, and it was painful for Franny. I regret not speaking up a bit more than I did. She put the steri-strips on his ankle while it was out of the splint, and once the foot was placed back into the splint, the strips had large gaps in them and they weren’t doing any good. Thankfully she had sent us home with more strips, which I put on at home, and they have stayed on since that time.

I have been working at about 50% time, unable to get into the office very much. Mom was going to stop by tomorrow so I could go in for a couple hours. But mainly I’ve been playing full-time nurse to Franny – which I’m not complaining about at all. There are times when I’m up, down, up, down, up and I feel like collapsing, but I still feel for the most part blessed to be able to take care of him and to see him making progress.

Since being home, I’ve been able to actually clean the toilet and bathroom floor almost every day. Seems silly, but I’m really glad about that. I like having a clean bathroom.

The short story is that my ten-year-old son was hit by a car last week after getting off the bus. His leg was broken and his foot and ankle were severely lacerated. He had surgery done and was in the hospital for a few days. He is home now and wearing an external fixator (his does not have the “halo” around it – he has 4 rods and a bar that holds them in place). He will move to a cast in a few weeks.

I’ve typed out the longer version, but I’m not quite ready to do anything with it. We are blessed indeed, as nothing else was injured.

I feel a bit stir-crazy and still like we are in chaos-mode (a few more purchased dinners than usual the past week), but it has also been nice to be home and able to take care of Franny and just be with the family.

Today he had his first shower at home. We purchased a cheap plastic chair and a non-slip floor mat for the tub. We put a garbage bag around his leg and he actually had a very nice shower, holding the removable head, enjoying the warm water. I also did pin care for the first time today, too. You have to clean the pins as directed by the physician. Because he still has stitches, I also needed to put a special gauze on those two areas, too. I was nervous about doing it, but it actually went pretty well.

Wordless Wednesday.

(And in case you’re a person who likes words… we took a trip to the zoo this weekend. Us and half the population of the city. Nice, spring weather will do that. We are fortunate enough to have a free zoo here in town, so we can always go back, and it isn’t like we’ve lost money because there wasn’t enough time or space between sardine-packed kids to see the exhibits.

Franny insisted on taking pictures of the giraffes who were “humping” – they weren’t really, they were cozing up to, or had finished, couldn’t tell. He then took a picture of the rhinos. At the end of our visit, the boys played at the new play/park area. Franny climbed the rock structure and I snapped a couple pictures.)

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday 

I have just one thing to say.

Dove Chocolates. The Eggs. Only at Easter. Eight years ago the twins were born. Pre-mature  (8 weeks). Emergency C-section. Percoset put me over the edge, but Dove Chocolates sincerely helped me endure the month that they were in the hospital. If there was a shortage of those eggs in our city Easter 1999, I take the blame. At that time I hadn’t the palate for dark chocolates (don’t think Dove made dark ones anyway), so I devoured the milk chocolate eggs. They were in my purse constantly. When I ran out a state of panic ensued. Sal got really sick (some of you know that). Developed septicemia, blew every IV they put in (head, hand, feet…) and finally got a central line put in for the anti-biotics. Thank God that worked. They both came home within a month, on the same day.

Dove Chocolates, the eggs, will always remind me of their birth.

Lootie had his birthday last weekend. He turned 11. Two days before his birthday, he decided he’d like a party. So he started to invite people, calling them at a time when probably most of the kids were already in bed. I didn’t realize this because I was occupied. At any rate, having been sick all week I wasn’t up for much fanfare. Pizza and cake, treat bags. Those were my provisions. And shelter. Some balloons. He’s not picky. He just wants people to come over and have fun. An excuse to get sugared up and facilitate good fun for the people he enjoys. The majority of the kids I knew, but one was new to school.

“I have to let you know that (name of boy)… you have to know something. He’s big. Very chubby. You can’t say anything.”

I looked at him like he was a bit mad. “Lootie. I’m big. When have you known me to say things about people because they’re big? Or because of anything like that?”

“I’m just saying. People tease him sometimes.”

He left the room. Lootie’s like that. Matter-of-fact. Done. It was his way of saying, I’m inviting this kid and I don’t give a crap what anyone else thinks.

A day before the party, Frank picked up 2 Tres Leches cakes. Last year I made them. Didn’t have it in me this year.

The day of, two hours before the party, we went to Wal-mart to get plates and treats for the goodie bags. I bought 3 bags of balloons to blow up, figuring if I scattered them around the house, it would look festive enough, coupled with the 99 cent “Happy Birthday” plastic tablecloth.

The boys, about 13 of them (3 of which were mine — Dants was in Minnesota and Pheenie was at a friend’s house) plus one little sister… they had a blast. Lootie may have his “issues” at times (we all do) but he’s good at showing people a good time, making sure everyone is included. I didn’t have one report of teasing the big kid. He thought it was way cool that within a week of starting a new school, here he was at a party. (His mom, when she picked him up, was over the moon, said it made his week. Lootie has a very genuine way of doing things like that.)

Most of the time was spent running around, eating pizza. The stations of interest were: television (we rented a couple wrestling videos since most of the boys are wrestling freaks), computer — (which I had to remove them from because I thought they’d mess it up), video games. And then, the highlight of the night, running around with the Nerf guns, taking prisoners and evading getting hit by the foam pellets. I literally had to hide in Pheenie’s room for a breather. They found me though, and happily occupied that corner of the house as well.

All in all it was a swell gathering. We didn’t spend too much money. And Carlito didn’t notice or care that we didn’t give him a gift (although he went to a wrestling show back in Fall as an “early birthday present”). He said the party went too fast, and that he had a blast.

Frank was in charge of picture-taking.

You’d think it would come natural to a group of 11-year-old boys, but taking a “goofy picture” can be so awkward.

Opening gifts. He’s got no problem being excited about each gift. But then he’s also great at sincerely thanking people.

The Tres Leches cakes. Frank picked out one coconut and one coffee flavored. Not sure why he got a coffee flavored one for an 11-year-old’s birthday. But strangely enough, it was just what some of the kids wanted.

. . .

In answer to some of the comments… YES, momma uses a Neti pot (and to my brother — it was completely UNnecessary for you to post that hideous link to the sinus pictures, which is probably why you did it in the first place *thwack*). And I did get some relief from that. The major relief came from using the sinus spray in combination, though, just to get over that hump. My mouth pain was gone within a day. I love me a Neti pot, though. Those things are awesome. Suellen, not sure on the eye thing. Although, I wondered if flushing irritated my nasal passages. It was after I started flushing that I became inflamed.

. . .

Well, now I’m off to shovel snow. I need the darn exercise.

What would a Monday be without a Super Bowl post-game wrap-up by Sir Groovy Mom? I just don’t know. (I like “Sir” as an English title, leave me alone)

Yes, we watched the game. Me and three of the boys. Frank had to take the eldest of the boy freaks to Milwaukee for a soccer training, missing a good half of the game. Soccer training during the pinnacle of American football!!? Say it isn’t so, well it IS so, the snobbish wankers.

Me, still not feeling so well–

(I ran a temp of 102 for a day or so after my stoopid yeast-cleanse, felt like crap, mom said “Sounds like flu!!” and am still not feeling 100%. Now, though, it is more of foggy-head, sinus crapola.)

– camped out on the couch most of the day, watching Super Bowl pre-game stuff during the Mrs. Doubtfire commercial breaks. I did take Pheenie to work and made one lap around the store, picking up some photos, grabbing Hot Cheetoes for the boys (is it really CheeTOES, like feet/toes ?? I’m too lazy to check), soda, began to feel dizzy and sweaty, so I grabbed some hot-n-ready fried cheese curds (for medicinal purposes only, silly!!), and checked out.

Lootie’s been rooting for the Giants, even when they were up against the ‘Cheese, and had a not-so-good feeling that they were going to get whomped this time around. Die-hard fan he is, save for a split second where (something) happened in the game and he told the team they were “Sucky” for one reason or another. He quickly retracted, though, with an apologetic chin nod and continued his supportive cheering. At that last two minutes when that darn Moss caught the ball and Lootie’s mother (Sir Groovy Mom) declared it was OVER, she was shot daggers. We were held prisoner in our own home by a 10-year-old, forced to “Clap!!!” when NY got the ball, “CLAP!!!” to show our support (two boys did not clap, seeing as they are NE fans). It was Peter Pan for the sports fan: Do you believe in Giants ?? Then CLAP, by golly. Clap!!

(Lootie leading the clap with Sal in the background – Picasa)

A few post-game observations:

1.) I’ve enjoyed the robot that’s been warming up on the screen during these NFL games. Each time it jumped around I was entranced. Had no idea it was a Terminator.

2.) Driving while feeling fluish can be quite a silly adventure. Ask me how many times I almost raised our insurance during my drive (too many to not be ashamed of).

3.) I think I’d like to be a pro NFL player, gritty and dirty with sweat, dirt and grass, fartin’ it up on the field. Looks like fun. Just… for like an hour, or something though.

4.) I sometimes get the game play confused with a video game. It looks surreal from some of the camera angles.

5.) With a birthday in less than a week, my job is to locate a Eli Manning New York Giants Super Bowl XLII Jersey for Lootie. There’s one here
but it is for menfolk. I’m looking for one that’s a bit smaller. I bought him one that was 18/20 (bought big to last more than a day) for Christmas from that company — great service, would definitely use them again.