So on Sunday night, we made our very first visit to the ER. Honestly, I’m surprised we made it this long. Seriously. Meg will be four in October, and I cannot believe we’ve never been there before. But anyway, we went.
At about 6:30, Eric came carrying Meg down the hill towards me, her arm cradled in her lap. She was crying. He looked very concerned. I touched the arm underneath the bones, and I knew. One glance at Eric, and we both agreed. That arm was broken.
So he put her in the van for me while I grabbed by stuff and drove for town. I talked to Meg some and said a prayer for us, that we could get there in good time and for grace, for  doors to be opened to deal with the arm quickly and easily. And really, the entire night was one grace after another. I had no idea.
As I drove, I called our mothers and let them know, realized Meg had actually dozed off for a few minutes, and got to the ER about 7:15. Another family was at the check-in desk when I carried her in. They were sent back through the doors I had just come in, to the waiting room on the other side of the entrance. I came to the desk.
Me: Hi, I’m pretty sure my daughter broke her arm.
Check-in lady: Okay. Her name? (We went through all the basic info and got her bracelet put on her right arm). Okay, then why don’t you sit down right there.
She pointed at a single chair against the wall just inside the door. On this side of the entrance. She poked her head into the triage room, said something I couldn’t hear and then popped back out. “Okay, have a seat right in here, and we’ll get you started.” She gestured into the triage area, not five feet in front of me. Um…okay.
I moved into the chair inside the triage room, and the nurse and PA started talking. The word “deformity” got used more than once. The PA took Megan’s pulse while the nurse got some basic information. The PA went to another computer while the nurse took Meg’s temperature. She said, “Okay, Mom, that arm is definitely broken, we just need to know how bad.” Um…okay.
With that, they took us back to an open room. The only open room. The one, I realized, the triage ladies were saying had just come open as we got there. They’d put someone’s name on it from the waiting room, but bumped them back to put Meg in next. We were literally shown to a room in less than 5 minutes.
I was so grateful, too. I stopped to thank Jesus for answering my prayer. I remembered to pray for whoever’s name had been bumped down the list so Megan could go first. but mostly, I was just grateful the arm was actually broken and that we had done the right thing in coming.
Our nurse, Erin, followed us in almost immediately and started getting Meg some Motrin for the pain. She asked me a couple of questions and said the x-ray had already been ordered so we just had to wait for that. Seriously, they ordered the x-ray before we were even in the room. More grace.
We spent the next hour or so waiting, but never more than 20 or so minutes between someone’s arrival. Megan played my iPad and only cried if someone had to bump her arm. She was a CHAMP. Apparently trauma makes her mellow, not spastic. Another grace. The x-ray techs came and took two films. They took a top-down shot, and then moved the arm so the hand was palm-down, and as soon as they did, I could see it. Bones are not supposed to be like that.
After they finished, we waited for the orthopedic doctor to see and weigh in on the next step. Another doctor came in to check for other sprains or bruises…nothing (grace). Erin, the nurse, came back once or twice to check on us. Megan was very happy to play game after game on the iPad. She talked to anyone who talked to her. And they did so great with her. They spoke to her like a little person. But a little one. She told them what happened (“My leg tripped me.”) and where it hurt exactly. She thanked people as they left. They were all incredibly impressed, but honestly…that’s just my Meg.
Finally, the orthopedic guy came in. He showed me the x-rays, and confirmed what we all knew. The ulna was broken, a jagged point clearly not where it should be (but not through the skin either). But the radius had bowed, not broken, because her 3-year-old bones aren’t totally calcified yet. That’s what made that second x-ray look so bad. So the good news was that the break was nowhere near the growth plates (grace), she hadn’t broken both bones (grace), and he could manipulate it back in place that night. He recommended conscious sedation, which I was happy to approve, because he said oral sedatives “only gave me one chance and she’ll hate me forever.” Ha!
Anyway, to do the procedure, she had to have an IV. So we waited a few minutes for Erin to come back for that. She brought another nurse, Mike, with her. They talked to Megan about everything, and she let them do it all. Only when they actually poked her elbow did she cry. And she sobbed. But she didn’t flinch or pull or kick or anything. Mike held her arm just in case, but pretty soon they had it in and taped in place. And then Meg’s only concern was how she could play the iPad with both arms messed up (she quickly figured out she could still bend the right elbow).
After a bit, we were taken back to another room for the sedation and procedure. We put Meg in a wheelchair, and as the nurse turned right, I happened to glance left towards the entrance and there, just being brought to a room, was the couple who had been standing at the desk when I came in. It was two hours later, and they were just being seen. Thank you, Jesus, was all I could think.
We turned and then turned again down another hall of curtained rooms, and just as we got to the back room where things would go down, I heard, “Shannah?” Behind me came Becca Geyer, a nurse who was basically volunteering on the floor that night to prep for picking up more ER shifts in the future. She’s also the wife of Geoff Geyer, one of Eric’s best friends from college. Big-time Grace.
Becca hung with us for most of the next hour. She helped them get things set up. She and Mike watched the numbers and charted things. She explained stuff to me. She got me a sandwich and some water. (Another huge grace) She even held Meg’s arm while the actual procedure was done. I cannot even tell you how much it meant for a familiar face to be with us that night.
And the other ER personnel were just as great. Mike put all the monitors on Meg, and she ate up his explanations. Her thumb had a light on it. She got five stickers on her chest and belly. The orthopedic doctor explained what they would do, and then we sat for a few minutes waiting for the permission papers to come. I asked how he decided on orthopedics. He said, “Do you want the long version or the short?” I laughed, “Well, I’m gonna be here for a while.” He gave me the brief version, but it was interesting to hear what had gotten him to this moment with my child.
We had a few minutes of downtime in the back room, and I watched Meg’s ellies (her stuffed elephant rattles) sitting on the bed while she played the iPad. That was the only time I got nervous. Just how crazy things had gone, how fast things had gone, how I was sitting in a back room of the ER with an oblivious Meg, and so grateful it wasn’t worse. Still sedation is sedation, and for a few minutes, I was a bit overwhelmed.
And then things got rolling again. Meg answered all questions, but mostly she just played her iPad. The orthopedic guy was watching her play, amazed at how she was reading and doing the matching games so perfectly well. Yep, that’s my Meg. Then Mike put the morphine in. The doctor laughed, “Mike, man, you’re messing up her score with that stuff.” Sure enough, she couldn’t quite control her fingers, and it was kind of funny to watch.
They finished the sedation and started the process. There were 6 adults with large machines surrounding a big bed on which Meg was lying flat. It was a little surreal, but they worked well together. The x-ray techs came back and Becca held the arm while the doctor moved everything into place and put on the splint. They checked with the x-ray to see that all was well, and then wrapped the splint up.
After that, it was just a waiting game. Meg came out of sedation easily. She lifted her head a bit, lifted it a second time and said, “Hey mom, know what I see?” “No what?” “A stop sign.” Sure enough on the door across the room, 10 or 12 feet away, was a stop sign sticker. I knew she’d be fine then. I did catch her a couple of times just looking at her arm strangely, trying to figure out when the splint had appeared. But she was quickly back to the iPad while we waited for discharge. Oddly enough, that was the longest wait of the night because they had to have a pediatric sling brought down from the other hospital campus, but finally, two new nurses came (Mike joined them later) to unhook everything and get us discharged. Megan was very clear to the nurses that “her doctor” had put all those things on her (meaning Mike, of course). She was very proud of all her stickers and things. Then as I was talking to one nurse, Meg looked over at her.
Meg: What’s your name?
Nurse: I’m Jessie.
Meg: It’s nice to meet you Jessie.
Jessie: It’s nice to meet you, too, Megan. (she looked at me amazed…yep, that’s my Meg)
Megan: turning slowly to the other nurse, “And what’s your name?”
Nurse: I’m Jean. It’s nice to meet you.
Megan: It’s nice to meet you, too.
Then she went back to her iPad for a bit longer. FInally Mike, Jessie, and Jean had her all charted, unhooked, and in the sling. She thanked them all, again, as we left. As we exited the ER and headed to the car, I realized it was only 11:30 pm. Another grace.
As I was putting her in the car, Meg informed me that she wanted to watch Frozen when we got home. “Well, okay, maybe tomorrow morning,” I said. “No, when we get home. They told me, I could watch Frozen when I got home.” Right…just following doctor’s orders.
Anyway, we got home about midnight and got Megan something to eat. Earlier, she’d wanted to know when they were bringing her food, and she did get a purple popsicle on her way out. But overall, she did beyond well. The nurses and everyone were beyond impressed with her, and I could just see Jesus taking care of us the entire night. We’re now a few days past, and she’s itchin’ to get her cast so she can DO stuff again. But for our first broken bone and trip to the ER, I could not have asked for a better adventure.
