Ok, ok, so it might be a bit premature to be labeling it that but we had no broken bones in this family for 21 years and in the past two months, Son 2 and Son 1 have broken bones at Camp Old Indian.
There was already so much going on. We had taken my oldest son to work at Camp Old Indian. In just a few days after, we sent my 18 yod to Romania for the summer. The next week almost every one was gone as the 14 yod headed to the beach for a Student Life Conference and the rest of the Scouts met up at Camp Old Indian for Boy Scout Camp. I busily prepared for their return and subsequent departing just 12 hours later for another summer camp.
That Friday night, Stephen walked into the house, head down, arm in a sling. Ultimate Frisbee injury. He took on a large 16 yo young man and his 12 yo arm lost the battle. We thought there was just some bruising and let him make the decision whether or not to head off to the second camp … he chose to go. By Sunday, I was picking up because his arm hurt and he couldn’t sleep. I realized that day that he couldn’t move the arm at all. So, off to the doctor on Monday. Our doctor didn’t think it was broken but wanted an x-ray just to be sure. Off to the diagnostic center and within minutes, back to the doctor because it was broken. Stephen had a buckle fracture just at the top of his arm, where the bone enters the shoulder. They couldn’t even cast it. Instead, he had a foam sling contraption that held his arm up and then strapped his arm to his body … basically using the body as a splint. Four weeks later and he was good as new. We survived the rest of the summer camps with no more injuries. My oldest son came home from working all summer. My daughter came home from Romania. Life continued on.
October 7 – 9, 2005. Fall Fellowship at Camp Old Indian. This was an annual Order of the Arrow function. The first night, Justin collides with someone while playing football and bends his wrist backward. By Sunday when we picked him up, the wrist was swollen as he had not administered much first aid throughout the weekend. So much for Boy Scout training. The swelling diminished quickly after a night of icing the wrist and regular doses of Motrin. His pain was minimal and there was good movement and just a bruise on his wrist. We were leaving for Disney World on Wednesday. We consulted a couple of friends in the medical community and the consensus was that this was probably a bad sprain. We put it in a hard splint and headed off on vacation.
Last week I became concerned as it was starting to hurt again and his movement was not improving as I thought it should. So, off to the doctor on Monday. I love our family doctor. He always has a story to tell. He told me about a time that his ten year old daughter fell while riding her bike in the rain while holding an umbrella. They were supposed to be leaving to go out of town. He looked at it and figured it was just a goose egg on her leg and off they went. The family stopped for dinner half way there and as Dr. carried his daughter into the restaurant, ran into a colleague who was an orthopedic surgeon. After hearing the story, the ortho. surgeon looked at the leg and said, “yep, it’s just a bump. She will be fine.” She didn’t improve over the weekend and when they returned home, my doctor had it x-rayed and sure enough … a spiral fracture. The orthopedist that cast it told a story about how his son had broken his arm and he didn’t figure it out for ten days. All that to reassure me that I am not a bad mom for waiting three weeks before bringing him in.
Of course, we had to have x-rays. Off to the diagnostic center again and back home to await a phone call the next day. We didn’t have to wait that long. Dr. called me back very quickly and explained that it Justin’s wrist was definitely broken and he wanted us to see the best orthopedic surgeon in the city, one that specializes in hand injuries.Ok. So, another call back and we had an appointment for 7:15 this morning.
Ok, now here is where the frustration starts to build. Our appointment was at 7:15. As new patients, we arrived early to fill out paper work (and they were totally frustrated with me that I wouldn’t give them my son’s social security number) and then sat in the waiting room for a long time … the empty waiting room as we are the first patients of the day. Then we are called back to a room where we wait for a LONG time. I didn’t even hear the doctor’s voice in the hall until 8:00 so I am suspicious that he didn’t arrive until then. I am beginning to feel very disrespected as if my time is not as valuable as his time. Finally, at 8:15, the doctor sweeps into the room and begins to rudely question me about the injury. He was incredulous that it had been three weeks. He said, “You didn’t know it was broken?!?” Ok. After the fact, I thought I should have said, “No. Our x-ray machine is down for repairs.” or “Actually, yes, I did know it was broken but thought I would wait three weeks to see if he would be permanently maimed.” Good grief. By this time, I realize I am whining. I am trying to explain the circumstances surrounding our decision … about the swelling going down, good movement, lack of pain, advice of a nurse and a paramedic and a impending Disney World trip that we had planned for a LONG, LONG time. He sighs and begins to tell me how serious this injury is.
He said that if we had brought him in three weeks ago, with this x-ray that looks like the bone is displaced, he would have done surgery immediately. Now, he can’t tell if the bone is displaced or healing. He has decided to treat it as if we had come in three weeks ago, with an x-ray showing no displacement. The protocol? A above the elbow cast that continues down to immobilize the thumb … for twelve weeks. Well, they want to see him in four weeks and will see it is healing then. If so, they will put him in a shorter cast. If not, they will decide on surgery or to continue with the cast. He turned before he left and asked, “Was Disney World fun?” I meekly answered, “Yes, but I don’t know if it was worth it if I have jeapordized my son.” and he quipped, “It will be IF it heals” and off he went.
I was so angry. I felt so belittled. I was treated as if I was nothing and as if I purposely had ignored my son’s injury. After that last statement, I wanted to say, “I was told you were the best orthopedic surgeon in the city. If you can’t be more postive about your work, maybe I should go else where.” He was just so condescending. The whole staff was like that. The man who came and put on Justin’s cast didn’t speak the entire time. Not one word. Didn’t even advise us on how to take care of the cast. My husband is taking Justin back for the four week check. He is convinced that the doctor wouldn’t talk to him that way. He is probably right. I am praying for complete, supernatural healing. I don’t want Justin to have to have surgery and I don’t want this man getting any more money from us.
On a bright note, Justin is wearing his badge of honor well. He chose a white cast so all the signatures would show up. He says he looks like he is perpetually trying to do the robot. His sense of humor will carry him far.
As for me, I have to leave soon to take Son 3 to acting classes. He has decided not to participate in scouts at this time. I am breathing a sigh of relief that he may be spared the curse of Camp Old Indian.
Immersed in the Mystery,
Related Tags: Camp Old Indian, Broken bones
