It was almost noon on a sunny day, a couple of weeks ago, when Will asked me what I wanted for lunch.
“What I really want is a grilled cheese sandwich,” I said. “But we don’t have any bread and we don’t have any cheese.”
“Well, do you want to go to the store?” he asked.
“Yeah, maybe I’ll go in a bit, I don’t know.”
The conversation ended there, because we had a friend visiting from Phoenix, and we all decided to go out front and play in the cul-de-sac: me, Will, Zackery, Brayden, and our friend. We could deal with lunch after we’d all worked up an appetite.
It was such a beautiful day, we had all the games out: chalk, football, basketball… Zack and I were on the grass, kicking a soccer ball around when it rolled into the cul-de-sac.
(And anyone that knows me, knows I’m paranoid about playing IN the cul-de-sac, because of what could happen if they fell. Road rash or worse! Which was precisely why we were playing on the grass.)
“Go run and get the ball,” I told Zack, and he ran (as he had dozens of times before) … all the way to the curb on the opposite side … and then he just rag-dolled, tripping over a rock and landing hard on the ground.
I was instantly in a panic. Seeing Zack crumpled in pain, I thought he had hit his head. I ran to him, yelling for Will who came running.
Thank God, Zack’s head was fine – but he had put out his hand to break his fall, and now his wrist was completely the wrong shape.
Will took one look and said, “It’s broken, we’re going to the ER.”
I was not exactly “together” at that moment. My mind was racing: what do I do? What do I do? Exactly what I had been afraid of, and here it was in front of me.
Luckily, our friend Jerry told us to go ahead, he would stay at the house with Brayden. Thank God, because Brayden had already spent enough time in the ER! So we got in the car with my frightened, anguished boy, panicking and crying because of the way his arm looked and the immense pain he was in. (I don’t blame him!)
We covered it with a blanket so Zackery didn’t have to look at it, and Will sat with him in the backseat, holding him and telling him that everything was going to be okay. As I drove to the children’s ER, Will told Zack about the time he had broken his arm, and that it had turned out fine and you can’t even tell it was ever broken. Again, thank God for him. I was just trying not to let anybody see how scared I was!
When we got to the ER, I texted a couple of friends and asked them to send out prayer requests. With probably a dozen people praying for us, I just let go …
The ER visit, thankfully, was one of the easiest I’ve ever had. That’s not to say it was easy, especially when they had to give Zackery an IV. We were all tense and worried, not least my poor little boy. Then they told us that they no longer reset broken limbs while the child is awake, and he would have to go under and go into surgery.
Can I tell you how frightening it is signing waivers for my children to go under full anesthesia?
Luckily, we had never gotten to eat lunch; Zack and I had shared a muffin at church, but that was it. His stomach was empty, so he was safe to go under without getting sick.
But I was starving!
Fast forward to the waiting area, while Zackery is in surgery. Will asked me again what I wanted.
“I really just want a grilled cheese sandwich!” I replied. “I don’t care if it’s cafeteria food. Don’t come back without a grilled cheese sandwich.”
So he took off for the cafeteria, and before he could even come back with the food, the surgeon came out.
“He’s going to be fine,” he told me. The bone had set without any pins or incisions. Now we just had to wait.
Just then, Will returned with – a grilled cheese! It wasn’t exactly gourmet, but there it was.
“Okay, God,” I said. “You gave me my grilled cheese. This was not the grilled cheese I wanted, but thank you.”
Forty minutes later, Zack woke right up, alert and perky, and the immediate trauma of that day had passed.
The next day, I made myself and Zack a grilled cheese, but I realized it still wasn’t that ooey gooey, gourmet splurge I was really craving. I realized it’s time to be more specific about what I really want!
Moral of the story: I’m counting my blessings for all the things that went well when they could have been so much worse. It was Zack’s left hand, so he can still use his right; the hospital was great; the surgeon (as I later discovered) was one of the best in the area; and I felt peaceful throughout because I knew people were praying for us.
Everybody says kids bounce back. And Zackery is doing well now, with a splint on his wrist and expected to be just fine once all healed up. All I can do is be thankful, and realize that we can all bounce back, even when it’s scary in the moment. Maybe we both got a little stronger, a little more brave.
So now all I need is a four-cheese sandwich on grilled sourdough from Two Chicks!
With Love and Mommy Hugs,
Pamela Zimmer