August 31

A year ago today, as I was putting away the groceries and thinking about the end of summer vacation, my cell phone rang. JT was on a playdate and he'd fallen while riding his bike. He seemed fine but was unwilling to walk on his left leg; I'd better come and check things out.

Six hours later, the boy was getting a full-leg cast. It was the first of three casts that would contain his healing leg for the next 13 weeks. To put it mildly, it wasn't the best way to end the summer of being seven years old.

Today, as I watch my fully healed eight year old run and jump, it's hard to believe that leg was ever broken. After the final cast came off, as JT worked through a limp and the natural anxiety that attends to recovery from a broken leg, I would occasionally catch my breath to see him running around or jumping off of the curb. Now, days will pass with no memory of the broken leg inserting itself into my consciousness.

Today I will stop and give thanks for his full recovery and for all the blessings a mama discovers when her boy breaks his leg: friends with endless patience and support; teachers, a school nurse and a school community who did everything they could to make sure that a broken leg didn't keep the second grade from being fun; and most of all a little boy who grew a great deal in the past year. His patience, good humor and enduring belief that life is a wonderful and happy journey even if your leg is busted give me faith that everything broken can heal in it's own time.


Update: In answer to JBro's question about what I feed the boy.....child is being raised on kitchen fumes, guacamole, bbq potato chips, and ice cream. It's a proven nutritional success combination.

Brave Boy on a Bike

We've had a taste of spring this week and on the way home from school today JT suggested that we go bike riding. Six months ago he broke his leg while riding his bicycle, so I was thrilled to hear him make the proposal. I eagerly accepted the offer.

As it turns out, my bike had a flat tire that was beyond my repair abilities, so I promised to walk beside him as he rode. He confessed, "I'm a little scared," but then he faced that fear and rode right on down the sidewalk. I couldn't be prouder.

13 Weeks

Thirteen weeks ago today, as the summer drew to a close, JT broke his leg. Today, the final cast was removed. We both feel lighter tonight.

The drive to JT's doctor's office follows the path of the Raritan River in western New Jersey. When we first went to Dr. T's office, it was a drive through the green woods, thick with foliage. The air outside was still warm; warm enough for the air conditioner in the car. JT carried his leg and its new white cast gingerly, suddenly dependent on me in a way he hadn't been for the last few years. We were both learning to manage the crutches and the immobility of a broken leg. The prospect of weeks and weeks with his leg in a cast hung heavy in the humid air.

Four weeks later, autumn was starting to emerge. The weather had cooled enough to roll down the windows as we drove through the woods. The trees were still heavy with green foliage now preparing to turn. By then, JT was a whiz with his crutches, swinging himself out of the car before I could get to his side. The four-week-old white cast was showing the wear of life with a seven year old; the heel had unraveled and it had a funky smell. The cast was removed for x-rays that afternoon. The bones were healing. That Friday, we left the doctor's office with a new bright red walking cast around his leg. It was solid and heavy to protect his fragile healing bones.

Another four weeks passed and as we drove to the doctor, the trees along the river were vibrantly red, yellow, and orange. The woods were cool now, preparing for the coming cold. We both had on long sleeves and JT had exchanged his shorts for long pants. The heavy red cast had served its purpose and was – literally – ripe. It was removed for yet another set of x-rays. This time, he received an air cast. Now we could see his knee. The removable cast led to greater mobility. And, for the first time in 8 weeks, JT could bathe without the hassle of wrapping his leg in heavy blue plastic. That night, he positively luxuriated in the bathtub, soaking for nearly two hours.

Five weeks later, this afternoon we once again headed through the woods in Flemington. The trees have lost their leaves and we could see the ducks skimming along the river. The air cast has been coming off for bathing and the occasional leg stretch and he confidently removed it to show off his healing leg. The x-ray once again brought good news. The tibia has healed and it takes a careful eye to see where the breaks once were. The air cast has done its service and is no longer necessary. As JT slipped a sneaker on his foot, a foot that hasn't worn a sneaker in 13 weeks, he announced to his healed leg, "you're back in business."

There are some restrictions remaining ----- no jumping, running, or pivoting for another 4 weeks. Dr. T says this might be harder than we think ------ boys like to try out their new bones, she says. But we plan to take it easy until that final x-ray informs us that the healing really is complete.

Thirteen weeks ago, on the second night after he broke his leg, JT and I both cried ourselves to sleep. That night, as JT found the pain unbearable and I tended him alone, I felt unlucky and afraid. I was scared for my boy and frightened for us. In my first year as a single mama, I had come to depend on his independence. The cast altered that. He could no longer dress himself or get up and down the stairs. Bathing was a chore. It took two trips to get things to the car for school. I was overwhelmed. But I should have remembered what a remarkable child my son is. He took it all in stride and demonstrated a resilience and patience that I will admire for the rest of my life. Slowly, but surely, JT regained his independence and his ability to move around. We adjusted to the new demands. We even came to make jokes about the broken leg. Tonight, I realize that like the new bone growth in his leg, we two are stronger than ever.

Bathtub Freedom

When JT first broke his leg, he gleefully believed that he could go the next two months without a bath. I put the kibosh on such fun, of course. But it must be said that bathing with a cast is below average on the fun-o-meter. For starters, all washing must be supervised. The cast goes in a giant plastic bag and then I use the detachable shower head to wash and rinse the boy. I wouldn’t say that it was enjoyable for anyone involved. And, given the limitations, once he broke his leg we went to washing twice a week.

This was a huge bummer for me because for at least two years now, come daily bath time I’ve been in the habit of tossing JT in the shower with a bar of soap (and instructions to use it) and then doing some chores upstairs while he washes. I could change the sheets, fold and put away laundry, lay out clothes for school….it was a veritable cavalcade of mama-fun. Every so often, I’d be caught up on chores and (god forbid) I could take ten minutes to read a book while the boy washed off the grime he had accumulated.

Now that the boy is in an air cast, he can be bathed more often and more easily. The air cast can be removed and the child can be fully submerged in the bubble-filled tub. And, with his legs now fully submerged, he can play to his heart’s content while I resume my exciting upstairs-at-bath-time life.

We know how to live at Sassafras House.

Stink, Stank, Stunk

An update on the journey that began eight weeks ago last night, when JT took his first trip to the Emergency Room at our local hospital.

There are many challenges involved in life when your child has a cast on his leg. But none are as challenging as the incredibly funky smell emanating from that cast. At four weeks of age, the big red cast was stinky. “Stink, stank, stunk,” I would think as I opened the door to JT’s bedroom each morning (thanks Dr. Suess). And driving around in the car with the funky smelling cast riding shotgun was less than enjoyable.



Yesterday, eight weeks out from the original leg break, we headed to the orthopedist to get things checked out. JT was reluctant to participate in the fun because his leg has been immobile for the past four weeks and it’s working fine for him. He saw no reason to change up the arrangement. Removing the cast meant stretching muscles that had been still for days on end. Not fun, as we learned the last time we went through this process.

But removal was in order and though my boy expressly announced his objections (crying and screaming loud enough to startle several of his fellow patients), the cast came off and x-rays were made. The leg was nasty yucky ----- hairy, and covered in an unpleasant coating of boy funk and grime. The smell was other-wordly: like sweat and grime allowed to ripen.



“You’ll want to wash that. Soon,” Dr. T suggested. And then she told us that things are looking good. The x-ray shows all sorts of fuzzy bone growth. Good news. An air cast, rising to just below the knee is our next step (pun intended). He’ll be able to have a much greater range of mobility (which will take some getting used to). And we can see his (very hairy) knee for the first time in 8 weeks.



By the end of the night, he was already starting to appreciate the new range of movement. And the air cast looks cool ----- like he’s the bionic boy. As for me, I’m just happy that the stink is gone.

Life as I Know It

The prompt over at Sunday Scribblings is "My first act as Queen......."

I have no idea what to write. Those of you who know me as a control freak par excellence are now pulling your jaw up off the floor. The notion that I have no idea what to do when given charge of the world is somewhat surprising. World peace; no more hungry sick children; safety and a comfy bed for everyone....these are all laudable goals that come to mind. But I haven't been able to figure out how I would get this done. Then there is the fact that I'm working on not being overwhelmed by the things that I cannot control. So.

In the meantime, things in the tiny fiefdom that is Sassafras House have been changing and I decided to write about that instead.

I haven't written much about this, largely because it seemed whiny to complain about my difficulties when my seven year old is managing a broken leg. And he's managing it incredibly well ---- the boy has been a trooper, rarely complaining, and generally managing his temporary handicap with incredible grace. So to whine about how his broken leg has inconvenienced me seemed like being a jackass.

Since we moved to this house two years ago, the playroom has been JT's haven. That has allowed me to roam the first floor in peace. Sometimes he'd watch TV downstairs, but mostly he'd play upstairs. My living room was free from the detritus of childhood (read: no tiny Playmobil figures under foot) and it was quiet (meaning I listened to NPR) while I went about my cooking, cleaning, reading, and writing. I am a pretty high energy person and I work with high energy teenagers, so the quiet is important to me. It allows me to relax and rejuvenate. On weekend mornings, JT would quietly head to his playroom when he woke up. I would hear him up there and then enjoy a little extra sleep, knowing that he was happily playing. Toys and games arranged in the playroom could stay out for weeks on end, because the door to the room could be shut and I didn't have to see the playroom chaos. It was a happy arrangement. And it helped to facilitate our mutual independence.

But one of the side effects of a broken leg was that JT couldn't get around easily. And he was afraid; preferring to be by my side. I love the boy to distraction but that by my side deal was sometimes overwhelming. At first, he couldn't really get to the attic and I didn't want him two floors away, unable to easily navigate the stairs. And he was also adjusting to his own limited independence ----- needing help to do EVERYTHING. The poor child couldn't even get himself a cup of water to drink. And don't get me started on going to the bathroom.

I realized that our newly circumscribed existence was temporary, but it was sometimes exhausting. From the moment JT woke up in the morning until he went to bed at night, he accompanied me. Running errands with a child on crutches is just not easily managed, so I saved those chores for the Sunday afternoons that he visited my ex. He's a chatty little thing (like his mama) and our constant togetherness could be overwhelming. The quiet in my home at 8:30 pm, after he went to sleep, felt just luxurious. But by then I was often so tired myself that I couldn't stay up long enough to appreciate it.

When JT got the walking cast three weeks ago, he slowly began to expand his world again. It started with the ability to walk around the house and step-by-step, he's become more independent. He can walk short distances at school and at home (and, among other things, that means he can carry his own backpack again). He can get a drink of water and he can once again help with some of the chores around the house. We've been able to go to Target for short trips. We went to the mall on Friday night. And this weekend, he once again reclaimed the playroom as his own zone.

The impetus for his triumphant playroom return was some new toys ----- cowboys and Indians with a great need to engage in a long-term epic battle ----- and he wanted to leave them sitting out. That's playroom approved. So on Saturday morning I headed upstairs to organize the heap and clutter.

It was a giant mess.



A cataclysmic disaster.



But when the Mama cleaning tsunami was done, the chaos was reigned in.



And Sassafras House is peaceful once again.

Casting Call

Four weeks ago today our hero broke his leg. So it was therefore time to remove the cast and do an x-ray or two to see how things were progressing. Among other things, that was good news because the old cast wasn't smelling so fresh. Removal was a ticklish process but JT was generally amused. So far, so good.


But after the cast came off, his leg hurt. As in, made my boy cry hurt. Probably that was the result of things suddenly feeling very different and the stretching of muscles that had been held in a rigid position for a while. A few x-rays were snapped and then the word came down: things are coming along nicely. Time for a walking cast.


The new cast is to be a little heavier and sturdier than the last. As Dr. T pointed out, "you'll be kind of rough on my cast if the last one is any indication." And the new cast could have a color. JT enjoyed a lollipop and reviewed his options.


He went with a subtle red. Now, in addition to the fact that you can hear him coming from a mile away, you can see him coming as well.

We've Got Mail

The silver lining to the cloud that is a broken leg has been mail. When you are 7 years old, getting something in the mail is a very big deal. JT's gotten a number of get well cards in the mailbox at home (and he reads them carefully all by himself before he shares them with me). His Aunty KO and cousins sent a card, scary pirate stickers, and gift cards for ice cream and toys (that there is a kid double play). And today, my college roommate M and her children (M and M) sent a package with books. Packages are the ultimate mail.......and to receive one is a major jackpot. He's pictured here with his new Magic Treehouse books, most delighted to learn that people far away in California are worried about him and his leg.

Clearly, the bum leg isn't holding him back.

So thanks to all of you who have kindly thought of my boy and sent him mail. Your good cheer has made several of our days brighter.

Jackpot

I've always felt lucky in the baby I brought into the world more than 7 years ago. He's strong, resilient, and kind (not to mention his good looks and excellent sense of humor). And this week, as we ended summer and returned to the regularly scheduled programming that is school, I've felt particularly lucky in this boy of mine. That's all the more surprising because my 7 year old returned to school with a broken leg, no small hurdle to manage.

Fittingly for a child whose first name is Jefferson, my boy has a strong independent streak. It was evident from the moment he was born and, with the exception of his early opposition to the taking of naps, it's been a terrific blessing. He walked at 9 months and talked at 12 and has been unstoppable ever since, taking care of himself and looking out for me along the way. And the broken leg provides another case in point: when the doc in the ER said that JT would be wearing a leg cast for 10 weeks, the first thing that JT asked me was, "how will I do my chores?" That there is a good kid.

In the past 7 days, he has learned to walk on crutches (with a grace and speed that is impressive), figured out how to get up and down the stairs, gotten himself to and from the bathroom (and that isn't as easy as you might think when you have a big cast), and learned again how to dress himself, this time with a left leg out of commission. This morning, he used his crutch to grab his shoe, slide it across the living room, and then put it on the good foot. Though he can't run outside or ride his bike (two of his most favorite things), he's not engaged in a pity party (I would have thrown a big one if it was me). He's an impressive figure, this boy of mine.

I've always felt lucky to have him. But the broken leg proves it: when I gave birth to Jefferson Taylor, it was a jackpot.

Fan Club

JT is just beginning to discover that when you bust your leg everyone pays attention to you. This morning saw a steady parade of neighbors to sign and admire his cast. I can only imagine what kind of rock star status he will enjoy when he starts school on Thursday.


He's getting quite proficient with his crutches (he still calls them crotches and I'll take my humor where I can get it) ----- including a booty-shaking dance that is most impressive.


And this is JT abed, just waiting for the cats to join the fun.

So far, so good.

Busted

After a full day of eating cupcakes from M and a few minutes of crutches practice while D looked on, JT was tired last night. He went to sleep easily and I was relieved. But he awoke a little after 10 pm and was clearly in pain. He cried and was inconsolable for over an hour before he finally fell back asleep and stayed that way.

I've heard plenty of people say that one of the good things about being a single mama is that you get to make all the decisions. That's true and it is sometimes easier to just make the parental call, sans negotiation with another parent.

But the power to decide what to do is a solitary and lonely power when your baby is crying and in pain. And that's when I miss the help and love of another parent. With a partner, you may have to negotiate differences in decision-making, but you also have a companion when the going gets rough. I've said this before but I was reminded of its truth again last night. When my partner and I and JT were a family of three, I felt invincible. There was nothing we couldn't handle. But as a two-some of a mama and a boy, I feel like I'm on less stable footing.

Especially now that JT has broken his leg.

A Peg Leg Boy and his Mama

Well, it's not exactly a peg leg. But it is a broken leg.

On Friday evening, JT was riding bikes on a trail with his friend M and M's mom. He had on sneakers and his helmet, he wasn't messing around, he just had a second of bad luck and his bike slid. His legs twisted and his left leg immediately bore the brunt of the fall.

An off-duty policeman and some park maintenance workers came immediately to the rescue with ice and a ride home for the boys and their bikes (3 cheers for Branchburg). By the time I got there, JT was in pretty good spirits but still refused to walk on his left leg.

Uh oh.

My boy is tough. So if he says something hurts, it's best to take that seriously. A few hours later the ER doc confirmed what I had already figured out. Broken tibia. A clean break, two-thirds of the way down from his knee, far from the growth plate. As broken legs go, this one can be fixed and made as good as new. And though JT didn't really complain, the doctor said that the pain was great enough to require some pain relief on an IV drip. So, with a silly grin on his face, he slipped in and out of sleep while they prepared his cast. At one point he announced that his beloved bike was "a nasty, rusted claptrap." I think that was the morphine talking.

It is a full-leg cast. No walking for the next two weeks, until we can see that the bone is growing back. He has crutches (which he calls crotches........yeah it's funny) and in a few days, he'll give those a try. Once bone begins to grow back, he'll get a walking cast. The doctor can't be entirely sure, but it looks like he'll be wearing a cast for the next ten weeks.

Have I mentioned that school starts on Thursday and I have a three-story house with the playroom at the very top of the house? I expect that this may be a bit of a challenge. I can carry him up and down the stairs and he's a trooper so I expect that soon enough we'll be laughing about this.

JT is already planning on how to incorporate his cast into his Halloween costume. Happily, being 7 means all sorts of positive thinking and that's a really awesome thing to behold.