My side of the story...

Samantha had to write about a recent experience that happened in her life for her English class. She chose to write about her broken leg. Makes sense. It has consumed our lives for the past few months. I ended up typing it for her and it was 9 pages! As I typed, I recalled the events of that day and I wanted to share with Samantha, and her teacher, my thoughts. Here is what I came up with....

“The Incident”

From Mom’s Point of View

By

Sally Meanor

It has been a long summer. It seems to be coming to an end, this whole journey of Samantha and her broken leg. I am tired. She is tired. We all seem stressed and ready for it to end.

But how did it begin? How did we get to this place of cast, boot, physical therapy? It all began with me saying, Yes.

I didn’t want her to ever get on a skateboard. After all, I broke my wrist when I was her age skateboarding. I know the dangers. I know the pain. I also know the fun!

“Mom, can I just try?”

“Samantha, let’s just get through your camps and summer vacation. Then we will see. But I want you to know that I do not really want you to ride.”

Camps went by as did our vacation. We found a skateboard and she practiced. And practiced. She got pretty good at it and her confidence was soaring! She used pads and didn’t do anything really crazy. She looked good. I felt pretty satisfied about her new skills.

Then we ventured to a different park with trails, paths and a skate park. I could see her mind start to wonder if she could do the ramp? I ask her what she thinks and she brims with excitement. She carefully watches the boys riding the ramps and assess all that she needs to do to accomplish going up and down while feeling the air rushing around her.

I concur that a trip back to the park is in order but we should come back when there are less people which happens to be the next day. Early morning with nobody around, Samantha and her brother attempt the world of X-Games. Nathan jumps up and flies down with no problem. I get ready to video my daughter and within seconds she is up on the ramp and then down on her rump. She screams and I run, knowing that the leg that is now in the position of a frog, is broken.

I try to settle her down yet she is already in shock. I ask her to move it. She can’t. I plead with her to try and she physically cannot move the leg that is limp. Still nothing. I begin to panic a bit and grab my phone to call my husband. He tells me to calm down and that he will call our pediatrician to see what to do.

My mind tells my to get her in the van and get her to the hospital. I tell her to grab around my neck and I slowly raise her off the ground and we rag doll dance back to our van.

Our trip from Hilliard to downtown took no time and Ryan met us there just as we were pulling in the parking lot. He gently picked her up out of the van, got her into the hospital and the process of registration, vital statistics, questions and answers. We stay calm even though there was a risk of compound fracture, which almost makes me faint.

X-rays taken and confirmation of a “tib/fib” break is conveyed. She needs to be sedated so they can set the leg and we are ushered out of the room after the procedure begins. She is sad, she is sick, and she is so very tired. We try to stay upbeat but I know that it looks bad. I joke, she rolls her eyes (which is an event that I will see over the next couple of months…who am I kidding? She is a pre-teen. It’s a look I will probably see until the day she leaves us!).

The nurse informs us that she is done and what we see next I don’t think I was prepared for. A purple cast that starts at the end of her foot and makes its way up to her hip. Long. Purple. Cast. I follow the cast to our little girl’s eyes and they are still closed from the effects of the sedation. She is beautiful and strong and in that moment I know that she will be okay.

We stay the night in the hospital which we will both tell you was not a night at The Ritz. We barely slept but we laughed and giggled a lot!

Things at home were a challenge for her. She became almost toddler-like in that she needed help with everything but she embraced the cast. We duct taped her crutches, bought purple clothing to match the cast and even got purple streaks in her hair. We did all we could to make that girl smile. She found out how strong her faith is, how strong she is and I think she realizes how much we all love her.

Thirteen weeks later, we are starting therapy. The cast is off, the boot is almost gone and the crutches have been hung from the basement rafters. We see an ending to the journey approaching for which we are thankful but it really is an experience that made me appreciate even more my daughter. She handled this setback with such grace and humor. I truly love her!