kayre, oh yes, I was well acquainted with the emergency room as a child.

When I was seven, we'd moved into what my mum and I refer to as "The Hovel". 'Cause it was a converted garage in the middle of (gorgeous) woods. Heat was the wood stove we bought from sears, plumbing was interesting (there were days when we couldn't flush the toilet...I have a terrible time remembering not to flush, and I remember apologizing to my mom once for flushing. It was an odd moment. She wasn't mad at me, but I did help clean up, which is only logical), I didn't actually have a room, the hallway from my parents room to the bathroom was turned into a (nifty) bedroom for me and...oh! We had two stoves. That was because the range worked on one and the oven on the other.

Anyway, when we'd first moved in, the grass hadn't been cut in quite a while. We'd picked up loads of trash and now my future ex-paternal unit was mowing the lawn. My mom asked me to go tell him lunch was ready. Just as I rounded the corner to yell over the sound of the mower, he ran over a can and it whipped back, hitting me just inside the eyelid of my left eye (I know this, 'cause I can see the scar, if I look closely). My mom was worried that I had a concussion (it was a food-type can, not a soda can), and petitioned I be taken to the ER...whatsisname said I was fine...he *always* said I was fine. I could be bleeding out of my ears and he'd say I was fine. Mum took me, and I felt remarkably tired on the way, and I remember my mom shaking me, making sure I wouldn't fall asleep, just in case it was a major concussion. I don't think they did x-rays that time...but I honestly don't remember. I didn't die though. *Grin*

I think there was another time I had to go to the ER while we were living there, but I don't remember why. I know that was when the stomach flu was running rampant through Virginia, but I cannot remember if I went to the regular doctor or the ER for that one. I do remember the medicine was liquid and one of the most horrible things I'd had to take up to that point. My mom, bless her, was so sweet about it. She found this old Cookie Monster finger puppet (or...Grover. It was a blue muppet, that much I do know) and made me laugh while she convinced me that, yes, this stuff *was* disgusting but it was better than major stomach pains. Damn near every time I had to take it. (And yeah, it really was that bad. It's also why I do my best to explain to Sam that the medicine probably isn't going to taste good but will make her feel better, which is the important thing.)

Then, the December after I turned ten, we moved to the townhouse in Sterling (the hovel was in Old Sterling, which I'm pretty sure doesn't exist any longer). I think I was eleven when I broke my arm elbow. It was one of those times when you fall exactly wrong, in a way you've fallen a thousand times before. I was climbing over a hip-high fence (and my hips were a bit lower then *grin*) in the playground behind the row of houses and fell on my left arm. It hurt in a weird way. There was no snap, no agonizing pain, nothin'. But I knew something was terribly wrong.

So, I went home. It was Sunday and the Redskins were playing, so I sat down and waited till half time. My mother hates me telling this part of the story, 'cause she says it makes her sound horrible. So, I'm going to take this opportunity to explain, especially since I never had a problem with it. When I was little, I was always coming to my mom with little hurts, like ya do. If I was interrupting her, she'd say "Are you bleeding?" "No." "Then please wait till I'm finished" "Okay." (Once, I cut myself very badly while shaving my fourteen year old legs (I thought it was an old razor and pressed down far too hard). I yelled "MOM! BLOOD!" and she came running. Didn't go to the ER though. ;). Also, one didn't interrupt football in our house. You waited till a commercial or half-time (it's not like there aren't a thousand commercials anyway.) So, since I wasn't bleeding, I followed the house rules and have never thought badly of them. *I* didn't know my elbow was broken and I'd fallen on it. How should she know from me running in the door?

So, anyway. Half-time comes and I tell her what happened. She figures it's a sprain and takes me into the kitchen to fix me up with a tea-towel sling. She helped me raise my arm to roughly chest-height while she tied the sling...when it was bent and horizontal, I let out a scream that probably scared people down the street. Mum said "We're going to the hospital." Whatsisname says "It's just a sprain, she doesn't need to go to the hospital, you're overreacting, I'm not going"(oh darn). So, we go to the ER and wait for what seemed like a very long time, and then they take us back and take me into the x-ray room where this minion of Satan nurse asks me to put my arm on the table in a way I can't do *now*, let alone with a broken elbow. She gets grumpy with me, saying I *can* do it, I just don't want to. (Yeah, one of my hobbies as a child was fucking with medical staff :p) She tries to force the issue, and my arm, but the noise that issues forth from my throat deters her. So, we take x-rays with my arm in a different position and I'm sent out to sit some more. They say they think it's a hairline fracture of the elbow, they're going to wrap it in an ace bandage for now and I'm to see my regular doctor the next day to make sure.

Which we did and it was, indeed, fractured. They decided it would be easier for me to have a half-cast (the top was open) wrapped in an ace bandage. It was *not* easier for me at all and those thing SUCK big time. I broke two (maybe three) of them and my arm didn't set completely right. I can use it with no problems, but it does pain me from time to time and sometimes feels very tight till I crack it. (Fun with joints!) So, if the doc says "Half cast", you say "NO, full cast." 'Cause the point of a cast is immobilization and my elbow could always move a little.

Back to the post, now that we've heard the PSA from "Full Casts, not Half Measures".;)

I can only remember one more ER trip, when I stepped on a glass and cut the hell out of my left foot (why stuff always seems to happen to my left side I just don't know). We wrapped my very bleeding foot in a couple towels and were off to the ER again (this was a couple years after the arm). Whatsisname was at work, but he probably would have said it was just a scratch. I bled through the towels before we were seen, but I *did* get to sit in a wheelchair. That was the highlight. :)

Got many stitches, both inside my toes and out, and found out that when they say "The pain medication is going to wear off in two to three hours" they *really* mean it. But at least they didn't put me in a half-cast. ;)

~~~

royal_spice asked about books and movies I've enjoyed/haven't enjoyed recently.

I'm far more likely to slog through a book I dislike than a movie. This is probably a bad habit, but one I'm comfortable with. *Grin*

*back after convincing the child that it really, truly was time for bed* I shall continue this tomorrow. In another post, 'cause I'm just like that. *Grin*

I plan to answer everything, just not all at once. :) Right now, I'm going to take my tea and go sit with darthgeek in the living room. Exciting! ;)