My younger son throws himself into life with enthusiasm. He gives life his all. He goes running into everything that life throws at him. And he gets hurt. He is an accident waiting to happen.
One month to the day after his legs stopped working (which was due to his illness and the fact that he walks funny rather than an actual accident), he hurt his shoulder at football. My husband is the coach. And he really is the coach. When he’s on that football field, he’s not his son’s Daddy. All those boys are equal. So I was surprised when I got a phone call asking me to go down to the ground because he’d hurt himself. He’d fallen following a bad tackle.
I could see even from a distance my son was holding himself awkwardly. Every time he stopped running, he rubbed his shoulder. He came over to me with tears in his eyes. Then asked for a drink and ran off.
The next day the rugby ground was like a lake. I don’t know who had checked that pitch, but they might have forgotten they weren’t checking its suitability for a swimming gala. I’d left my husband in charge of the boys and was at home trying (and failing) to get my daughter to do homework. My husband rang to say my son had hurt his shoulder again. Only it was worse this time. Another bad tackle and my son had gone down and people had fallen on top of him. He’d heard a crack. He’d heard a crack the day before at football too.
So it was off to A&E. A&E is like his second home. He goes there on average twice a year. We never take the decision to go to A&E lightly, yet somehow we always end up there. We know the drill – assessed by a nurse, back to the waiting room, seen by a doctor, referred for an Xray, back to the waiting room, get results of Xray from the doctor…
He’s never broken a bone, but he’s taken a large number of knocks over the years. Some caused by his brother, many just caused by his own enthusiasm for life.
His first trip to A&E was aged about eight months. He was strapped into a shopping trolley outside a shop. I was loading the car when his brother decided to push the trolley over. The trolley went down and my baby’s face collided with the pavement.
There was the time his brother threw him against the settee – aged 4 (paper stitches to his face). The two times he fell down the stairs – just before I had his sister and just after. There was the time he knocked his teeth out on the trampoline aged 5. The time his brother fell on his leg age 7.
There was the bad tackle at football aged 8 by an adult who shouldn’t have been playing, who knocked him over and fell on top of him. His nose hasn’t been the same since. It didn’t break, but something shifted inside. It whistles a little bit in his sleep and especially when he’s got a cold. It’s on the list of ‘things we will keep an eye on which may need an unpleasant operation in the future’.
So after going through the entire A&E procedure it was discovered it was his ligaments – the ‘crack’ sound was the ligaments making contact with his bones. Nice. He has MORE exercises to do (he already has his ‘funny leg’ exercises) and is supposed to take Ibuprofen. Already it seems to be better. He hurts himself a lot, but he bounces back quickly.
Place your bets on what he might do to himself in the summer….