Tuesday, May 29th, 2018…again
I published that last blog post a few hours too early. Without knowing it, I was en route to the next dot in the dot-to-dot of disasters I’ve been charting.
I just returned from having Tristan’s left arm x-rayed and splinted. It’s broken — a buckle fracture to the left distal medial radius. He’s absolutely overjoyed. “Mom,” he said, “this is kind of weird, but I feel really proud about my broken arm.”
This is how it happened: yesterday, immediately after Gary and Tomas arrived back from the final day of Tomas’ tournament, which Phoebe, Tristan, and I forewent to get home and prepare for the week, Tomas put on full soccer regalia and invited his siblings to join him in our “soccer arena”, a horse paddock. They took time to pump up the soccer balls extra hard. In a valiant effort to block a score from Tomas, Tristan extended his left arm and took the full force of the over-inflated, concrete-hard ball to his palm, which hyper-extended his wrist and buckled the radius.
We thought it was a sprain, and we iced it and proceeded with life. It hurt this morning, but not that much; Tristan went to school. When Tristan’s arm was swollen and painful after school today, we headed for acute care. Bang. Broken arm.
This was too awesome to retain for the next, more distant, blog post, so I’m attaching it here as an addendum to this morning’s post. I’m convinced that this represents a backlash on the part of the fairy guardian of-siblings-who-bracket-the-middle-child. Clearly, she read that last post, interpreted it as pro-middle child, and took action. So, all of you, please re-focus your attention on Tristan, or on Tomas. Otherwise, the fairy is going to sick a rabid golfer on one of us. I mean it.