I really thought it was sprained. I thought when he fell out of the tree last Thursday, that an ice pack would suffice. Even at the ER, they put him in the walking boot and told him to stay off of it, I thought we were in the clear. Not exactly, said our favorite orthopedist this morning.
Fractured fibula. (Say that 5 times fast).
Hard cast. He's in heaven--it's a rite of passage for any 8 year-old boy. But I'm a little sheepish after this conversation to the Intern on the way home:
Matty: Danny, I got a cast!
(Pause.)
Matty: Yep! I fell out of a tree at Thirsty Thursdays!
I love the bar vernacular. It's my proudest moment as a mother.
2 comments:
I love the pink cast. Can't you just picture him years from now sitting around with his college buddies swapping injury stories. "Yeah, my mom and all her friends were sipping margaritas and I fell out of a tree." Good times.
That's awesome. I too love the pink cast - but even more, the excitement to have broken a bone. When I was younger I always wanted to either have a cast or get stitches... I'm thankful that neither of those ever happened!
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