At the Hospital . . .

Yes, today I went to the hospital . . . but NOT to deliver a baby.  Instead, I spent my due date day (and most of yesterday) waddling around radiology departments and orthopedic offices tending to Eleanor’s broken arm.

Yes!  Broken arm!  How’s that for timing?

It isn’t a bad break — what they call a “greenstick fracture,” where the bone bends but doesn’t crack.  Still — ow.

How did it happen?  Eleanor was jumping on the couch Monday night, and just as I spoke the words “stop bouncing, or someone’s going to get hurt,” she flipped backwards off the back of the couch and landed on the floor.  The fracture is at the top of her upper left arm, almost in her shoulder.

She isn’t in a lot of pain; in fact, everyone was doubtful she even had a break (“you sure don’t act like a kid with a broken arm,” said her pediatrician) but X-rays doth reveal all.  So: she’s going to keep her arm in a sling for the next 2-3 weeks.  No dance lessons, and piano’s on hold for the duration (although we are spending time each morning going over note-naming with flash cards).

The challenge is getting her to realize that breaking her arm is a bad thing —  the arm doesn’t hurt much, unless she tries lifting it over her head, and the sling has gotten her a lot of attention in school.  Today I dropped her off at her kindergarten class, and Eleanor got to sit on a chair in front of the whole class and explain what happened.  Afterwards, allllllll the little girls wanted to play with her, since the sling made her “special.”  To which I was inwardly insisting, “No!  Breaking your arm is NOT GOOD!  Don’t relish this!”

After school, all three kids ran back to the boys’ room to put on costumes for fantasy play.  Eleanor came to me wearing a fireman hat, asking if I could help tie her superhero cape around her sling.

Sigh.  This does Not Bode Well.