*NOTE in order to read this in sequence, please begin with the October 12 posting and work your way up. I may decide to backdate these subsequent posts so you just read down but for now this is the easiest way for me to post.
So back in June when we first began talking about our Outer Banks vacation, Dave and I had decided that maybe it would be wise for Cole and I to fly into Charlotte, NC. He and Tucker would then pick us up for the remaining 6 hour drive to Hatteras Island. Keeping our moving target still for the entire 24 hour drive would be asking way too much of all of us so that was our plan. When back in late August we learned of Roger's tenuous health condition, we decided that Cole and I would fly to Baltimore, MD instead on Thursday, September 18 in hopes that we could visit with Roger and Margie for a few days, and then head as a family down to the Outer Banks. So we changed our flight and crossed our fingers. When Roger passed on September 15, we decided that we would keep with our flights and visit with the family who remained at the Coleson Crick.
So Dave returned from Maryland on Tuesday, September 16, where he did the quickest turnaround both at the office and at home having not expected to have been absent the past three days. I had begun staging our packing needs for Outer Banks about two weeks prior in our basement since we had to bring so much "stuff". It was ready for Dave upon his return and by late Tuesday evening, the Volvo was full, heavy and ready for a road trip. He and Tucker left early Wednesday morning where the destination was the 19 hour drive to Pennsylvania. He would be dropping Tucker off with my parents who would bring him down to the Outer Banks for us since we could not have him down at Dave's grandparent's farm (no fence, too much water and Tayloe, Roger's Doberman who had not taken to Tucker in years prior). Dave would then drive to Baltimore on Thursday and pick Cole and I up at the airport and then we would head to the Crick.
On the same day as Dave's trek to PA, Cole and I had his one week post-surgical follow up appointment with the ortho doc over in St. Paul. He and I got there early and headed over to X-ray knowing we had a slight wait until our appointment with the doc. When we got called back immediately, my radar went off and I knew before I knew that something was wrong. Dr. Quanbeck met us in Purple Room 6 and I could tell by her demeanor as I entered that indeed something was not as it should be. She proceeded to show me Cole's x-rays which depicted a large black space between his cast and his arm. This meant the cast had loosened as his swelling had subsided over the past 7 days and because the cast had loosened so greatly and Cole was such an active toddler, the bones unfortunately had shifted, both of them. My heart sank and I began to feel dizzy as she explained that she was not comfortable putting him back under anesthesia again to reduce the bones and that the amount of reduction was far less than the first time so they could manually reduce him in the office. They would remove his original cast, take X-rays until she was happy with the position of the bones and then recast him. With no time to think or digest this terrible diagnosis but knowing how distressing the next few hours would be, we moved to the casting room.
Cole was already stressed about being back in the hospital. I could read the terror in his eyes as the 3 nurses and doc descended on his room. They had put on the movie CARS as a vain attempt to distract him. He wanted to be held with his head buried in my chest but they needed me to sit him facing out on my lap securing his good arm. You have no idea how strong a child is until they are reacting out of pure fear and pain. They masterfully cut away at his cast and I swear that Cole already knew what was coming. They braced me and walked me through each step as it happenend but my mind was on overload and it sounded like muffled noise as they spoke. I was working on automatic mode, struggling to stay strong and keep back my tears. I sang and sang trying to soothe my son and felt angry that this was occurring without warning but reality was reality and I had to live in that moment. They raced us to X-ray after "pushing" on him the first time only to learn they had to "push" again. Back to X-ray again with him screaming, having to put on the protective gear with one arm as the techs helped me position Cole. Finally, after the third "push", Dr. Quanbeck was satisfied. The bones had to be less than 10% displaced in order for them to heal correctly so that they could rotate around one another as the bones in the forearm must. As he grows, the bones will continue to straighten, so she would okay with <10%. Now a new cast had to be put on, a plaster cast over the broken lower arm and then the full arm fiberglass cast. Putting a cast on a writhing 22 month old was a feat. I had plaster in my hair, on my clothes, on Cole's clothes and shoes. I was sweating, I had not eaten, and I was emotionally drained at this point. What I thought would have been a 30 minute follow up appointment had now stretched to almost three hours. Dr. Quanbeck was confident that this new tighter cast would not slip since his swelling had subsided but to ensure this she wanted us back for another follow up the following week. Well, we were leaving the next day for our 18 days away. Crap, okay, so we decided that Dave and I would take Cole to the Outer Banks Hospital radiology department for X-rays and have them sent to her overnight for review. If all was well, then we wouldn't be back again until his cast came off on October 20. If all was not as it should be, well, in her words "we will cross that bridge if it comes to that". She had her assistant call the OBX hospital and confirm our arrangement.
So with all that behind us, Cole and I headed out to the Jeep (as Dave had taken the Volvo). Cole was so fatigued by the ordeal, I just wanted to get him home. I got him situated with the last rice cake I had in my diaper bag and went to start the car. The key wouldn't go all the way in. I repositioned the steering wheel and tried again. Panic surged up my nerve pathways as I tried several more times without success. I banged on the steering column and made sure the gear was in PARK. Nothing! I called Dave who at this point had no idea how our morning had evolved and who was dealing with a road closure near Chicago. I was trying to stay calm but that ability had long departed. He walked me through some potential fixes to no avail. He would call USAA road assistance and I would contact hospital security. I got Cole back out of the car and back into the stroller. I stood momentarily in disbelief staring at the Jeep willing it to rev into action. Hospital security arrived and tried several attempts with no success. So back into the hospital we went. Cole was becoming agitated so I decided to walk with him as I waited impatiently for Dave to call back. USAA called and said it would upwards of 2 hours before someone could reach me. They felt the problem could be resolved but if not then we would get a tow. As the information sunk in that I would now have to wait an agonizing 2 hours, Dave called back and I broke down. Cole and I eventually went back to the playroom where he bounced back from his ordeal and I wanted to just combust. He was a trooper for the almost 3 HOURS it actually took for the repair service to arrive. The guy was able to jury rig the ignition to start but said it would die again once I got home. Thankfully, we would be going home, albeit at this point in rush hour traffic. So after arriving at 10:30 that morning we pulled into our garage at 5:45. The Jeep indeed would not start again but at this point, we were home. Cole was not interested in food and I so I held him until he fell asleep. I then had to run around racing to complete the last minute To-Do's I had anticipated having the entire afternoon to finish before our departure early the following morning.
to be continued...
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