Black is the New Cast

The alternate title of this posting could be "smell my cast."  Quite an offer, no?  JT often invited me to do just that over the last few weeks.  I deferred, because my mama didn't raise a fool.  And now I'll never have the opportunity.  Yesterday, after three weeks of funky-smelling, casted glory, JT's thumb got sprung.

As the last-minute photos of the cast reveal, it was none too soon.  For the next three weeks, he's going to wear a chic black brace whenever he's involved in any activities (which is to say unless he is asleep).  He can shower without having his arm wrapped in a plastic bag.  The thumb has healed well and is ready to take its rightful place alongside the other nine fingers.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Customer Service edition

The backstory:  We are once again coping with a cast at Sassafras House.  One of the bigger challenges is bathing, which requires that the cast be kept dry.  JT offered to take a break from bathing for 3 weeks but I deferred on that option.  Instead, we wrap up his arm in a plastic grocery bag to keep it dry while he showers.  Thursday night, as I was ready to bag his arm, we had the following conversation.

Mama:  Have you got the bag?

JT:  Will that be paper or plastic?

And at that, I burst into laughter.  Then I opted for the plastic bag.

Extra Credit

Last week, when it was clear that JT had broken his thumb (it's a tiny fracture on the growth plate) he wanted to be sure that he received credit for the break.  Apparently there is some giant ledger in kid-ville, one that tracks broken bones, and he wanted to be sure to get his name marked down.  Twice, thank you very damned much.

Assured that he did, in fact, receive his credit, he nursed his swollen left thumb and went on with his business.  Last Friday, we finally had the appointment with the orthopedist (and it says a lot about me that I have a pediatric orthopedist on the speed dial).  She looked at the thumb, looked at the x-ray, ran Thumbelina through some thumb bending exercises and pronounced the dreaded words: this thumb needs a cast.

It's on for three weeks.  The arm must be bagged up for bathing (though JT did pledge to skip showering if that was more convenient); it's a pain to put on his winter coat, and shoe tying once again requires assistance.  It itches and will no doubt smell dreadful before this is all over.

 All things considered, we know that it could be worse.  But we'd still like some extra credit.

Earning Full Credit

When JT was 7, he broke his leg.  It was a rough start to the second grade, but he mended well and by December he was back to running around like a regular boy.   And though it consumed us at the time, weeks and weeks go by without a remembrance of that once-broken leg entering my consciousness.  That's a good thing.  Still, it's not every kid who broke his leg while riding his bike and JT occasionally tells the story of his broken leg, usually to great dramatic effect.

On Wednesday, while he was playing outside in the snow, he took a tumble, got his finger caught in his lacrosse stick and came inside with an urgent announcement, "I need some ice for my finger."  The injured digit is his left thumb.  It swelled quickly and a bruise began to form.  I took him to the doctor that afternoon.  JT could move his thumb and make a fist and the doctor said, "Ehhhh.  It's probably fine."  We went home to a regimen of icepacks and ibuprofen. 

Yesterday, I took him to the doctor again; this time I asked for an x-ray.  He has full movement in his thumb (in fact, he never lost it) but the swelling and bruising had continued.  I was confident that he was fine (his constant motion and non-stop chatter certainly implied as much) but an x-ray was the only way to be sure.

And, in fact, the thumb has a very slight fracture.  Officially, it's a "Salter II fracture of the dorsal medial aspect of the proximal phalange."  Those of us without a medical degree would say he's got a fracture in his finger.  The Salter II aspect means that it's at the growth plate.  Frankly, I think it's a little cheeky of the thumb-bone to have a growth plate, but it does mean a visit to the pediatric orthopedist next week.

For now, the recommended treatment is to continue the ice and ibuprofen.  JT had only one concern, which he blurted out to his doctor, "Does it count?"  By which he meant, "can I really call it a broken bone?"

Assured that it does in fact "count" the boy carried his injured thumb home.  Full credit for two broken bones over the course of his 10 years on earth.  If that doesn't impress his fellow middle-schoolers, I don't know what will.