thedadreport.com

Come home the other day and there is a message from the school nurse. Erin has hurt her finger at recess, she’s fine, no need to rush to school. OK. We get her at the bus stop, she said she hurt it during Dodgeball . . . she wasn’t really looking when the ball was thrown at her. . .  yes, she cried a lot.  (The other version was she wasn’t even playing, or looking but got hit anyway.)

When we get home Lisa takes a look at it and sez, “I think that’s broken, I’m going to take her to the pediatrician.” So she does, yep, x-ray confirms broken. We should see an ortho sez the peds. OK. So we do . . . or rather Erin and I do . . . Mommy has a dental appointment. I suspect nothing. Remember, Lisa’s dad was an ortho doc. Keep that in mind. See me and Erin laughing all the way to the Dr’s office. La de da. Sez me, “Oh they’ll just confirm it’s broken and change the splint to a nicer one, we shouldn’t be there long.” “Cool.” sez Erin. La de da.

“Yep, it’s broken,” sez the doc. Then he turns to unsuspecting me and sez under his breath, “We’re gonna have to set it.” I’m thinking, “By set it you mean . . .” Then I’m thinking, “Lisa = dentist appointment?” No way she could have set me up for this, how would she know Erin would break her pinkie . . . oh never mind. My thoughts were quickly interrupted by Erin who has sensed the shift of the wind, much like a scared antelope who smells a Tiger about but can’t quite see it . . . yet.  Sez the doctor, “Oh now don’t worry, we’ll give you some numbing medicine so you won’t feel anything . . . then I’ll just move your pinkie back to the way it was.” Erin sez, “What does the numbing medicine taste like?” That’s where I nearly cried. “Oh, it’s not medicine that you take by mouth, it’s a SHOT WE GIVE YOU IN YOUR HAND.”

“SHOT? . . . SHOT?, I DON’T LIKE SHOTS”, sez my innocent little bunny. Me neither. So we move to the “prep area” and I’m trying my best to: a) not cry myself, b) not look directly at her scared little face, c) feed her the, “it won’t be that bad” type shit. Erin WAS NOT buying it. She is up on the table, I’m sitting next to her when the doctor re-appears. “Can you move to the chair behind me dad?” They get her to lay down. Then she gets a spray of numbing cold stuff which makes her start crying. They let that sit for a while to start the numbing of the hand where the “SHOT” will go. Did I say “Shot?”, oh silly me, I meant, “Shots.” As in plural. As in dental appointment. As in where Lisa is.

Noon at the OK Corral arrives, and the nurse is all smiles as the doc gets the needle out, Erin of course is crying. They have to hold her arm and hand down. I can hardly stand it. I’m talking to her saying it will all be over soon when I spy the doctor pushing the needle right into the knuckle area of her little paw. She let out a scream as loud as she could. Doctor sez, “Oh we have a screamer.” Yeah, asswipe, she’s 7, she’s scared and you just plunged a needle into her bone and she CAN feel it. As soon as he pulls the needle out he turns to me and sez, “That’s 1.” Fortunately for us all, there were just 2. After everyone calmed down, the doctor comes back in and in 2 seconds has the finger back to where it should be and fortunately Erin this time feels nothing. They wrap it, x-ray it, and say she’s good to go. Don’t do this, don’t do that, we’ll see you in 2 weeks. Got it.

2 weeks is today, the 3rd. I’ll let you know what happens. Rather, Lisa will, I’ve scheduled a dental appointment.

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UPDATE:
Erin had the splint removed, now she’s down to just 2 taped fingers. Bending the pinkie is the new challenge. So far, so good!