Blue Cast

When I was seven, my six-year-old sister fell off her bike and broke her arm. I remember the heavy, white, plaster cast on her arm when she returned from the doctor's office. We came down with chicken pox shortly afterward--it was an eventful summer--and my poor sister had some itchy spots under her cast. What she never told me until years later was that she used one of my combs to scratch under the cast.

Casts today are certainly different. Matthew is now sporting a lightweight, royal blue cast made out of fiberglass. He's out of luck if he gets an itch, however. Not even a crochet hook would fit in there.

Today was Daniel's zoo trip with his class, which had been postponed from last month. I had been planning to take the twins in the car and meet Daniel's class there as we had done last year. Tab had decided to come with us and had taken the day off. Of course, after last night's accident, our plans changed. So Daniel went off to the zoo with his class under the care of his friend Danny's mother who was going as a chaperone.

I spent some time on the phone this morning, calling our pediatrician's office to get the referral to the orthopedist and informing our insurance company of our trip to the emergency room yesterday. Tab picked up the referral form from the pediatrician's office while he was running a few errands. Then I called the orthopedic practice to make an appointment and learned that I needed to bring the X-ray films along with me, which entailed a trip back to the hospital to get them.

Stephen, who had accompanied me to the hospital, begged to see "Matthew's bones." I showed the X-rays to him, holding them up to the light, but I couldn't see where the fractures were. Later, the orthopedic surgeon showed me the problem.

"It's a buckle fracture," he said. "See where the bone bulges out on either side, just slightly? It should be straight."

"Do you have to set it?" I asked fearfully.

"Nope, the cast will take care of the problem," he answered.

I was relieved to hear it. Tab had warned me to be prepared for a difficult scene if Matthew's bone needed to be set. When Tab was six he too broke his wrist, but his break needed to be set by the doctor before the cast was put on. Tab still remembers the awful pain he felt while the doctor was pulling on his arm. He had begged the doctor not to do it, even offering to give the doctor candy if he would stop. After hearing Tab's story, I had been dreading the thought of Matthew in pain.

Unlike the old, slow-drying plaster casts, Matthew's cast was dry in minutes. He only has to wear it for four weeks; the bones of the young knit fast. Unfortunately, he will not be able to get the cast wet, which means he'll have to sit out swimming class for the next few sessions. Nor will we be able to play in the wading pool, nor take advantage of the water rides at Sesame Place.

It's going to be a long month.

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