In the January that Owen was 17 months old, he fell off a bench at our dining room table and broke a bone in his baby arm. He wore a shirt that I embroidered to say "My 1st Broken Arm." Many commented that hopefully it would also be his last!
Three years passed and as boys do, he racked up his fair share of bruises and scratches and the like...and then on Saturday, he had a run-in with a brother and a hula hoop, lost his balance, and fell onto his right arm. When he didn't get up but lay on the floor crying instead, we knew something was wrong, and when we helped him to his feet and he continued to hold his arm near the shoulder, we decided that Brian would take him to the emergency room.
And so my boy who is strong and hearty and rarely sick (he has never even had a stomach virus!) is now down with his second broken arm. This time it is his humerus bone (the bone between the elbow and the shoulder) and aside from keeping it tight against his body in a sling, there is no treatment-- no cast, no pin, no anything.
The doctor is predicting a three to four week recovery and Owen has to be x-rayed weekly to watch for continued healing of the bone. (I am so thankful that Brian is off from work for another four weeks. God's timing is perfect.)
Owen needs help with everything. He needs help getting in and out of bed, going to the bathroom, getting dressed, eating. Though we had warned him, he had an emotional breakdown today when he discovered for himself that he can't color since he broke his dominant arm. The boy loves to draw and color so it was heartbreaking. Being only 4-years-old, he doesn't understand how seriously he needs to take this injury. Now that his pain has lessened, I catch him leaning on the bad arm or playing a little too roughly. Keeping him subdued is a full-time job.
Brian and the other four kids are sick with colds so I am the only healthy and whole member of the household and I'm praying it stays that way. I need my strength to care for this bunch!
Your prayers are appreciated.