Sophia (who will be 18 next month) called me the other day and asked if I’d like to come over and have breakfast with her. She’s staying with my parents right now (with the hopes of acquiring a JOB and moving into her own apartment), gaining her “independence” and sparing her brothers some of her teenage angst. The first week was… questionable. She spent most of her time there avoiding all responsibility and hanging out with friends. This second week, though, has gone better. She’s applied for some jobs, went to youth group, and is working on being more responsible. Baby steps.Very tiny, wobbly, and sometimes messy baby steps.

It was a nice shift to have her be making me breakfast. I thought for sure there was some catch. Come for breakfast… andtakemeshopping or Come for breakfast… and borrow me some money or Come for breakfast… and — wait, money, shopping… what else is there?

No catch though, and I checked myself for assuming there would be. Skeptical mom. She simply wanted to make me breakfast.

I’m generally a picky breakfast eater. I don’t like too many carbs (at least not “bad” white ones), and if I do allow myself a treat (generally waffles), I bang up on the protien and fiber.

White bread, Honeybun, eggs with bacon and cheese, yogurt with blueberries and strawberries and coffee.

I was hesitant to even touch the “white death” bread or honeybun because of my carb/breakfast issue. Do it for the kids, I told myself. Do it for Johnny!!

And I did. And… it was good. Not the honeybun, gosh those things are like eating sugar-speckled chemically processed carpet fibers in the shape of a doughnut. But the eggs? Yummy. Toast — everyone can benefit from some nutritionally-void buttered white bread now and then. Coffee, good (surely made by my mother or father before they left), but whatever.

Conversation was nice, the food was good. Finally. Finally a respite between the head-butting that has become so common over the past few years. Just as it was years ago, watching her take baby steps, make friends at the park or accomplish other rights-of-passage as a baby/toddler/pre-teen, it is also satisfying and gratifying to see her making those same steps into adulthood.

Now if I could just get a picture of her that doesn’t look like it fell off of Myspace.

Busy weekend at the Groovy-Mom household. Friday night was a social night, hanging out with friends. Saturday Sal had a soccer game. They won; don’t remember the score. Sal, the self-proclaimed World Class Goalie, played in goal for the first half, and then on the field the second. The team ran over to Franny before the start, at half-time and after the game to rub his head for good luck. It was very cute. (Franny tells me I need to get a new word because I say everything is cute. Cutecutecute!!! — Happy now?)

Carlito had a game to referee at the same time as Sal’s, but my dad took him to it since Frank was working and I can’t be in two places at the same time. Dante had a game later that day, too. They won 8-0. Dante plays on a team with a crew of very talented players that are a lot of fun to watch. Some games are very intense, but the Saturday’s was not (see the score), so the boys had some fun. At one point Dante, a mid-fielder, went for the ball over-zelously (not needing to) and he slid out of bounds, into the spectator section. His friend called from the other side of the field, “Dante, don’t you hurt my mom!!”

Saturday night we ordered pizza and watched the Fifa Qualifier between USA and Honduras. Go USA.

Sunday we went to Dante’s game, another 7-0 win. After the game we hit McDonalds, just me and the boys. I had a $20 limit, so we ordered cheap and split fries. Carlito treated us to brownie melts for dessert with some of his referee earnings. Dante and Franny split a brownie, and Sal and I split one. Carlito took a bite of ours, but didn’t buy one for himself. They were pretty well behaved, save for Dante distracting Carlito so that he could quickly fly in and pull his shorts down. He pantsed Lootie coming in, and he got him at the door before we left. Franny exploded in giggles both times.

We met Frank at home and decided to take advantage of a beautiful day by heading to the park for a while. Dante was reluctant, concerned that he’d miss the Uriah Faber/Mike Brown UFC fight. Boys. Frank assured him we would not. Papi brought his poles along and the boys brought a soccer ball. Can’t leave home without a soccer ball. Things have changed a bit, with Franny’s injury. He was the one who would usually instigate a game or activity, since he was always a bundle of energy. I’m thankful for his recovery, even though it is slow, but sometimes am caught off guard and get a bit choked up.

Sal, making some casts. OK, tecnically Frank did the casting, the boys reeled in.

Franny.

On our walk over to the park, we encountered some geese. As we approached I heard what sounded like a cat hissing. It took me a bit before I realized the hissing noise was coming from the goose in our path. What the..? I’ve never encountered a hissing goose before. My eyes and brain needed to make a visual connection to believe it. Mouth open, heeee-heeeesss — yup, it’s the crazy goose!! Freaked me out. As I attempted to snap a picture of the hissing goose, a mother and her children hurredly passed by. “Watch out, kids, they are MEAN. They’ll nip you.” Killer geese.

They boys started messing around with the soccer ball and Franny stood off in the distance, leaning on his crutches watching. I thought we could go to the park nearby to keep his mind off of the things he couldn’t do (like soccer). “Franny, wanna go try the swing?” We made the journey over and sat on the bench for a while, resting his leg and waiting our turn. Franny removed his shoes, and watched as a father pushed his daughter on the tire swing. When they left, we hurried over.

I pushed him cautiously at first, fearful that his cast would hit the ground or that the tire itself would fly off with him riding right on it. Crazy, I know. But as much as Franny is still recovering from being hit (crossing roads are cheap therapy right now), I’m recovering from the blow as well. I am an anxious, freakazoid worrier by nature — the broken leg isn’t helping. I checked my visions of disaster and focused on the cheek-cracking grin splayed across his face.

After the festival of swinging, we parked it at a table and watched the big boys spout testosterone. Franny took the camera and tried to get a shot of me “not noticing” him with the camera. I was forced to feign ignorance of the camera in his hands. My… look at that pretty grass… is that a camera?

Yeah, me and my sexy Fitovers. They aren’t the most attractive sunglasses, but they are convenient and they do the job.

Time to make the trek back. Sal cools off at the water fountain.

Papi.

My menfolk.

(Don’t ask me why Lootie is saluting.)

On the way home, Papi just had to make a couple casts. No, he’s not drunk. Looks are decieving.

Line-killer.

We made it home in time to make chicken tacos and watch hours of cage fighting. I need to get another girl in this house.

(What did YOU do this weekend? Leave me a link!!)

Nine weeks ago Franny was hit by a car while crossing the road after getting dropped off from the school bus. He was fine, save for his broken leg, some fractured foot bones and a bad wound on his foot. Today is he had a check-up.

Initially, he had surgery to clean and repair his injury and started with a fixator for 5 weeks (which was removed an replaced with a blue cast about a month ago). Today the cast was to come off for x-rays and then either a walking boot OR another cast. We’ve been discussing cast color for a couple weeks and the color was green. IF he got a cast. He was hoping for a boot. He was very nervous about the cast removal, but also very interested and excited.

The morning started with a hair washing in the bathroom sink. I meant to do it in the kitchen, but he started wetting his hair in the bathroom.

Getting dressed and ready to go.

I packed the pain meds, just in case, and his brother’s PSP for distraction purposes.

We stopped at McDonald’s (per Franny’s request). He got a McGriddle, while I picked up a chicken biscuit (one for me and one for Frank who was meeting us at the clinic). I was so nervous I couldn’t eat, though. After Franny’s cast wedging experience, and his own anxiety over the saw, I was a wreck. I didn’t want him to know that, though.

We were familiar with the man who removed the cast. He made Franny’s first splint and came to the room once when Franny was in the hospital. Today they were set to have their Child Life Specialist come in and talk to Franny before his cast removal, due to my phone call the day before, but by the time they made it in the room, Franny’s cast was off. The cast guy was aware of Franny’s concerns and reassured him that it would take less than 2 minutes to cut and crack it. Franny had worn headphones and played his game.

Franny loves for me to take pictures. He actually asked the doctor if pictures could be taken during surgery (the 2nd time he had surgery).

The saw is lying across the table. He cut down both sides and is using the tool in his hands to split/separate the cast.

You can see a little blood/drainage. Does it ook you out? We’ve seen way worse (like the day of the accident), so it didn’t shock us. When the rods were removed from his leg, they blue cast was put right on, so any blood or drainage was going to be inside the cast. Don’t worry, I won’t show you the inside pictures.

His leg, to us, looked great. Last we had seen it, there were 4 rods, dozens of gooky, pussy stitches, swelling and an ugly blister. Most of the scabs from where the  stitches were was gone, blister was removed in surgery. The holes from the rods were closed. His leg was not really visibly much different from his “good” leg, size-wise. It was a beautiful thing to be able to feel and touch his leg, his foot.

As he sat in the waiting room for x-rays, he wanted me to touch his leg. After the x-rays, while we waited, he just stared at his leg, at my hand moving across his skin, his shin,  foot, his ankle. The things we simply take for granted… I miss the simple act of washing his foot while I did his pin care. It was as if it was a sacred moment for us. Just as it was sitting in the examination room, quietly running my fingers over his scars, his healing bones, his traumatized foot. Priceless.

The news of having to have another cast put on was disappointing. Franny was SO much hoping for a walking boot, and he told the doctor just that. “But Francesco. You can walk with this cast. You’ll get a cast boot so you can. We want you to walk on it now, as much as possible and without crutches. This will help your bone heal and grow.”

This changed his perspective. He went over his color choices again, deciding on orange with some green striping thrown in for good measure.

As the cast technician prepared his leg, Franny asked a million and one questions. What are you doing? When will you put the color on? Do you like doing this? Do you get paid good? You DO?! How much do you get paid to do this? (pause) I might want to do this… cast tech. might be my job. I don’t know, but I know I want to work in a hospital. After an assault of questions that came too fast to answer, the technician smiled and asked him to be patient and just watch. And watch he did.

Watch, and ask more questions.

He’s slowly getting accustomed to putting a bit of weight on his foot. Two crutches, one crutch… standing with no crutches. It will take a bit of time for him to be comfortable with the boot and simply walking. As disappointed as he was with getting a cast, it was a good experience for him go through the process of having a cast being put on. Last time he was in surgery, going to sleep with a fixator and waking up with a cast. This time he got to witness everything from start to finish, and since he’s interested in orthopedics, he’s got a front row seat. I think everyone in our family has been learning and growing through the struggles of the past couple months. It is good to see Franny take something traumatic and make good of it, as much as he is able.

I had some other posts sitting in queue, but thought I might write about our cast wedging experience instead. Oh the joy.

Franny was about 6-weeks (give a few days) post from breaking his leg. At week 5 he had the external fixator removed and a cast put on. 10-days later he was to come in for a recheck. He used his crutches to walk up to the clinic for the first time. I brought the wheelchair, for back-up, though. X-rays were first, and then the lengthy stay in the exam room. The nurse left the x-rays up for us to look at.

We stared at them for a bit (there were 2), and waited. Someone was getting a procedure across the hall and we’d glance over every now and then. I decided to snap a picture to send to Frank, who was at home with Lootie and the home-health nurse. I felt a glare from one of the attendees across the way, but it is MY kid’s leg, so what do they care? The real-life x-ray  is better, but you can see the 2 breaks (tibia and fibula) here, as well as the 4 holes from the fixator.

The Nurse Practitioner (or maybe it is RN) came in first and looked at the x-rays. She said you could see some good healing going on. She said his Orthopedic Surgeon would be in too look as well and we could ask questions (Franny always has a bunch) then.

He came in, with a “shadow” (training student), looked at the x-rays and started talking about a wedge; said everything looked good. Fibula looked pretty misaligned to me, but the side x-ray showed better alignment (assured the doctor). And they aren’t as picky about the fibula. It is the tibia that they are really concerned about (said doctor), and that one looked like it had shifty slightly. He said some doctors might leave it, but he’d like to have it pushed back. I could hear Franny’s small voice asking if he could weight-bear yet. Then I heard the doctor talk to the nurse. Then I heard Franny ask a bit louder. Doctor said, “Not yet buddy.” And we were rushed across the hall to trade rooms with the prior person in the procedure room.

We were given heavy vests to cover our body (Franny’s flimsily covered his scrotum and if I have grandkids with tenticles, we’ll know why). Franny asked about what they were doing, and they were so busy doing what they were doing, they didn’t answer. I asked them as well, and they said they were going to cut the cast and put a wedge in to place the bone a bit better. They twisted his leg this way and that to get visuals on the live xray; Franny was uncomfortable. “Is it going to hurt?” He asked a few times before getting an answer. They told him it might sting a little. He became more nervous. They used the saw to cut the cast (which he was assured wouldn’t hurt) and at the end he sucked a hard breath and started crying. “It stings really bad!!” They said it shouldn’t of, which he assured them that by golly it did, and then agreed that maybe it might have, since his bone was still broken there. The vibrations might have been uncomforable. I awaited gushing blood to spurt out, but it didn’t happen.

Note to nurse: obviously if he’s SAYING it hurts and he’s crying — it HURTS.

They cut a semi-circle in the back of his cast and shoved a plastic wedge in there to push the bone to a better position. Took a picture, showed the doctor, and were told to place a bigger wedge. The did, and then told Franny, who was crying, “All done buddy!!!” and that he did better than most adults. I asked if it would be sore later. They said maybe, and Tylenol would help.

We left. Needless to say, Franny did NOT crutch it out, but opted for the wheelchair.

Within a half-hour he was sobbing like he’s never sobbed before during all of this. He said it stung and his heel hurt. This is a kid that’s taken NO pain meds so far. Not after surgery the first time, not during stitches removal (which was done by the same nurse who helped with the wedge, and she’s no tender Wendy), not after his rods were taken out. And now he was sobbing as if he had his leg broken all over again. Which, I guess, he sort of did. Less the adrenaline and shock that comes with the trauma experience. He was relaxed and unready to have his healing bone pushed around as it was.

I called the clinic. I had no idea if this sort of pain was normal or abnormal. He’s got a high tolerance for pain, so it seemed very abnormal to me. I would think it to be normal, considering all that went down, but they’d said NOTHING about it being this painful. I conveyed my… exasperation to the nurse. We ended up giving him Oxycontin for about 48 hours, coupled with Tylenol (had the Oxycontin leftover from the hospital discharge – never touched it). It helped tremendously.

Today, four days later, he is doing much better. Thankfully. Though I still feel we went into the situation quite uninformed (and still feel rather uniformed about the progress of everything). I don’t know what the experience is for others who have had a wedge, but I’d say to make sure you have some good painkillers on hand, just in case your experience pain that warrants the use of them.

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.