First Broken Bone

           Having four kids over the past 15 years - it's the phone call you never want to get. 
           Sitting at my desk at work,  I glanced at my cell with a raised brow upon noticing the message left by their school.  We next to never calls from them, but when we do, it's typically not for something good.  
           My mind raced between which of the kids it could  be versus  what  they did or who was sick.
          I wasn't prepared for  the message  I heard.
       It was the school nurse's voice (ugh,  somebody's sick) but I listened with confusion since they  all seemed to be fine this morning.
         It wasn't until her message began to explain how our youngest son, Preston had fallen at recess and we needed to come to the school, stating how his arm concerned her.
        Having never experienced the possibility of a broken bone in one of our children, my mind went into two different directions.  The first, "There's no way it's broken" and the second, "I need to get to him, NOW".
      Calling the school back and speaking with the nurse, the second direction kicked in and I turned into some form of crazy focused, (or maybe just crazy) mom.  
        Our beautiful office manager at the front desk where I work must have thought I'd lost my mind as I blasted through the building with my car keys flying.  
        It's a 30 to 40 minute drive from work to the kids on a good day.  I wanted to get to him in like, five.
     Calling my husband Adam, I  began to explain when he  interrupted, "They called me too, I'm already on my way".
         Every Grandpa driver in the world was in front of me on the back Carolina country roads.  I wanted to scream,  taking deep breaths holding in tears as I pictured Preston pushing his arm against his chest in pain for another half an hour, by himself.
        "MOVE!"  I  yelled at an old white pick up truck crawling five miles per hour under the speed limit on the back two lane.  
       Calling my best friend from home,  I've known Tricia since we were both three years old.   Realizing something was wrong the second she heard my voice, she began to  try and calm me down.  "What good are you going to be  if you get in a car wreck or get pulled over right now?"
         She was right, even though I didn't want to admit it.
       In what seemed like an eternity, I was almost there when Adam called.  "I've got him, go home so we can take a look at him.  He's got an ice pack on his arm."
         I Dukes of Hazarded my way around to head home and we took him together from there.  
         Preston was surprisingly calm but worried while Adam and I put our game faces on... 
"Is it broken?" 
"We hope not, Buddy." 
"Will I have to get a cast?" 
"We don't know, Little Man.  They'll do x-rays and let us know." 
"Do x-rays hurt?"
"No, Pret.  It's just like taking a picture, except it takes a picture of your bones."
"Will I get a shot?"
"Not for an x-ray."
"Do killer bees really kill you?"
"Wait. What?"
"Will I still be able to play lacrosse?"
"Depends on what the doctor says."
"FORTNITE?!"
        The glance Adam and I shot to him let him know how little concern we had about his future Fortnite capabilities.  
        Getting to  urgent care,  we waited.     

       Calling us back, it wasn't long until they carried him away for x-rays.   Looking at his wrist, I assumed the results, but was hoping  for the best.

       Sure enough, his wrist was fractured.  Two kind nurses came to wrap him up and we couldn't tell if he was strangely excited about the idea of it all or completely bummed.   Probably both. 

       His lacrosse (and Fortnite) days are on hold for a little, but he's going to be completely fine.  He's learning how to do things  he'd never thought about before like, putting socks and shoes on, cutting his food, brushing his teeth...all with his opposite hand.  Try as he might, there's no getting out of homework or tests, but it was a good effort.
     It won't be long until summer and by then he should be good to go.  
     Until that time, I'll be perfectly fine to get no more phone calls, God willing.  In the end though, I'm not going to lie about being happy about the Fortnite.  :)