Friday, November 16, 2007

Ashton's Detriment


Saturday November 10, 2007. It was noon, and Aaron was at work. My mom was delivering Willie to his new home. Staci was home for the weekend. The temperature was in the upper 60s -- beautiful for November. The kids and I were over at my parents' house because my dad and my grandpa were building a retaining wall in my parents' yard. I knew it was a good chance to allow Ashton to be outside (his favorite place to be) and to be in the company of others.

Sadie was asleep inside the house; I had the monitor attached to my hip. My parents' backyard garage was open and Ashton was busying himself with pretend driving my dad's lawn mower (which he does all the time -- it's parked, no key, etc.). Staci and I were observing the stone-laying process when all of a sudden I heard some banging and then Ashton crying. Up to this point, every time I had glanced to check on Ashton, he had been on the riding lawn mower. When I turned to respond to Ashton, he wasn't on the mower, so I assumed that he had fallen off of it onto the ground on the far side of the mower (thus the reason I didn't see him).

I ran to pick him up and brush him off, but he wasn't there. I followed the crying into the garage (not far away) and I saw that the dirtbike (similar to a motorcycle) was no longer standing up like it should be. I ran faster and saw Ashton, his legs pinned to the ground underneath the weight of the dirtbike. I went to pick it up off of him, and realized that I could barely lift it, nonetheless pick Ashton up! I yelled, "Help me" and Staci ran over and pulled Ashton out from under the bike.

He was crying obviously. Nothing was protruding or bleeding. He was just crying. And crying and crying and crying. I took him inside to get him a drink, to take off his pants, to kiss his boo-boos, to give him some ibuprofin, to lay with him for a nap, to hold him, to rock him. Nothing was helping. He hadn't stopped crying since the bike fell. I was about 75% sure that something was broken, otherwise he would have stopped crying at least once. It was nap time anyway, and so I asked him to try and take a nap, and if it still hurt when he woke up we would take him to a doctor. Ashton instantly jumped at that and started saying, "doctor."

I called Aaron at work (who wasn't even scheduled to be at work yet, but was there anyway) to tell him what happened and that I was going to take Ashton to be x-rayed. He agreed to meet me there. We woke Sadie up and put her in the car. Staci drove as I held Ashton in the front passenger's seat. Ashton and Sadie both fell asleep. We went to an immediate care place and as I predicted, we got in right away, as compared to an ER -- only 10-15 minutes of waiting. Aaron held Ashton, who had stopped crying.

They took x-rays and said that there was a break in the tibia and fibula. They put a hard splint on him, and said on Monday the orthopedic office would call us to arrange to put a cast on (which wouldn't have been put off had we gone to the ER...errrr). Ashton fell asleep again on the way home, and ended up taking a good nap. Nana and GGma came over to see him and help me with Sadie. Ashton just wanted to be held.
We alternately gave him tylenol and ibuprofin every four hours, around the clock. He really didn't complain of pain too often. Only when we went to pick him up or move him, would he say, "hurt." Otherwise, he sat on the sofa and watched countless Dora and Diego movies. Opa and Oma brought him a new Diego movie.
Monday morning came around and the doctor's office called to set up an appointment for Tuesday afternoon -- the soonest they could see him! Errr. Joy watched Sadie while Aaron and I took Ashton to have his bright orange cast put on. :) Unfortunately, the cast goes up past his knee, therefore he can't bend his leg. It's on there for 4 weeks, and comes off December 10. He is doing such a good job -- hardly ever complaining of pain, accepting his lot. Ashton, I am just so thankful to God that you weren't hurt more severely. It could have been a rib, or lung, or your head that took the blow. Thank you God, for protecting my little boy.
There. I did it. I journaled it and will put it in his memory box along with the cast.







1 comment:

kirsten said...

Yes, how much worse it could have been. We were truely spared that it was "just" a leg. Now that Grandpa dropped a block on his toe and hurt it helping build the wall,I'm beginnig to wonder about the whole project. However, it does look good.