Grant is a broken monkey

Poor Grunty Grant. His superhero powers couldn't save him this time; the power of gravity simply outweighed his abilities. Now, he is broken.

We had just finished a fun afternoon at the library and I told the kids they could play at the park nearby for a few minutes. Grant showed me his new skills on the monkey bars and I noted he was now able to get up on them by himself. "You're getting taller, Grant!" I turned my back and then heard Grant thump onto the ground and let out an awful groan. It's the kind of sound you know as a mom. Something was wrong. I noticed a bit of blood on his lip but what was worse was when he rolled over from his tummy onto his side. His hand was lying limply on the ground and not in alignment with his arm. I knew instantly he had broken his arm.

It's amazing how many thoughts can occupy your mind in a matter of a few seconds. My brain switched into hypergear and I quickly analyzed my options. Should I run over to the other mom's at the park and ask to use their cell phone to call 911? (I know, I don't have a cell phone and it's ridiculous. I think after this incident that will change.) No, that will waste time. Do I really need to call 911? They'll just put him in an ambulance, whisk him away without me and charge me for it. What hospital should I go to? Do I try to find someone to watch the kids before taking him or just take them all?

I gathered the kids telling them firmly that it was an emergency and we all needed to get into the car and go quickly! Mariah and Dallin started to cry when they saw it was a serious situation. Everyone got into the car, I told them to all calm down and that everything would be okay, and then we prayed. I headed towards the house (only a few blocks away) to call Jason and have him meet me at the hospital. I grabbed the Tylenol, gave some to Grant to take the edge off of his pain, and we were on our way.

The long drive was one of the hardest parts. Grant hadn't even started crying until we headed down the road. It's strange how kids will scream bloody-murder about a skinned up knee or a stubbed toe, but a broken arm? He didn't even know it was broken until I told him and the pain didn't set in for about five minutes. As we headed down the road he suddenly said, "Oh my gosh! This hurts! This is the worst day of my life!"

The doctors at the hospital had a difficult time getting the bones in his arm to align properly. They tried three times before giving up and transferring us to the Children's Hospital in Portland. I sent the other kids off with a friend who came to the rescue since I could see it was going to be a long night!

Grant ended up having to go into surgery at around 10:45pm. The doctor basically had to pull his hand up at a 90 degree angle to his arm, set the bones properly, and then lower the hand back down. Gross, huh?

Everything went according to plan in the operating room and by the next morning we were saying goodbye and on our way home. What I thought would be a simple fix, turned out to be quite an ordeal. I'm grateful it's over. I'm grateful Jason was there to support me and Grant. I'm grateful for healthy children. I'm grateful for good friends and family I can call on for help. I'm grateful to have experiences like this to remind me of what is truly important in life.