My 7-year-old son heard our neighbors riding their dirt bikes on the trail behind our house and he wanted to go watch them. I told him to wait until his dad got home from work but he didn't listen to me. While I was inside doing housework, he grabbed his bicycle and took off to the dirt bike trail on it. A few minutes later my 12-year-old daughter came running inside yelling that her brother was hurt. She said that he had gotten thrown off his bicycle and had landed on a large rock.
I quickly ran outside and found my son standing in the hayfield looking dazed. He was cradling his right arm and I could tell that it was severely broken. His wrist was badly swollen and his elbow appeared to be dislocated. I sent my daughter back inside to call my mom, who is a nurse, while I helped my son back to the house.
My husband normally doesn't work on the weekends but his boss had called him in that Saturday morning. He had taken my car to work so I had to get my mom to take us to the Emergency Room. The nurse at the front desk took one look at my son's arm and she took him straight back to the exam room. I had to stay out front and fill out some paperwork so my mom went back with my son. By the time I got to the exam room the nurse had given him some medicine for the pain, which had made him very drowsy.
When they x-rayed my son's arm they found that his wrist was fractured in three places and his elbow in two. Our local hospital isn't equipped to handle those kind of fractures so they had him flown by helicopter to a nearby Children's Hospital. My husband had arrived at the local hospital by that time and he went along with my son in the helicopter while I returned home to pack some clothes.
I knew I wasn't in any shape to drive very far so I had to find someone to take me to the Children's Hospital. My brother drove my car while his wife followed behind us in their van. That had to be the longest ride I have ever taken in my entire life. It only took us around 30 minutes to get there but I thought we were never going to arrive at the Children's Hospital. Once we finally did arrive, I was very pleased to learn that the most respected doctor there was assigned to my son's case. I knew right then that he was in very good hands and that helped to ease some of my panic.
My son spent two hours in surgery that evening and the doctor allowed him to return home the next day. The most heart wrenching sight that I have ever seen was watching him being wheeled away to the Operating Room. He looked so tiny and frail lying on that large gurney. My eyes still tear up whenever I think about that.
My son was left with slight nerve damage from the fractures. He had to have therapy to regain full use of his hand and arm. I took him to therapy three days a week for two months and he began showing progress almost immediately. He now has full use of his hand and arm. The only visible signs of his injury are the few scars from where the pins were placed in his wrist and elbow.
Throughout the whole ordeal, my son was a very brave little boy. He hardly cried at all but I shed enough tears for the both of us. I have never been more frightened in my entire life. I hope that I never have to go through anything like that ever again. My son did learn a very important lesson though. He now knows not to do something whenever mom and dad tells him no.
Published by Darla M. Beck
MY BIO: My name is Darla and I live in Statesville, North Carolina. I am a mother with two children. I enjoy writing short stories and poems in my spare time. View profile
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