Tuesday I got a call from the Middle School clinic: Big Child had taken a fall in gym and "all I am allowed to say is that I recommend you take him somewhere and have him evaluated...and I REALLY recommend that you take him somewhere and have him evaluated!"
I got to the school clinic and found Big Child, red-eyed and pale-faced, with one shoulder off-kilter under an icepack. "I'm sorry they bothered you at work. I told them they should try Daddy first and not bother you unless they had to, but he didn't send back his copy of the office papers," he stammered. "It's okay," I told him, "this is the kind of thing they need to bother me for."
I had already spoken to my ex on the way to the school, asking him to text me his insurance information so I could go straight to Big Child instead of stopping at home first. Obviously, he refused, because priorities, although once I texted him that I'd managed to get Big Child checked out anyway and his collarbone was broken, the XY was all about jumping my case and second-guessing my handling of the situation. Had I made the right call in taking him to the ortho clinic rather than the ER? I told him it hadn't been my call but the pediatrician's. Were they sure he didn't have a concussion? As sure as they could be, which was not very, and I had a list of signs and symptoms to look out for but thought he'd be fine. How did he have a possible concussion when the school said he hadn't hit his head? I said the "mechanism of injury" made the ortho concerned, plus I was pretty sure Big Child had hit his head based on some bruising around his eye.
At that point my ex-husband accused me of making up the part about the concussion and possibly the whole thing to screw with HIS head and I thanked him for reminding me why I never spoke to him over the phone except during an emergency, "and I think the crisis has passed. I'll text you a photo of Big Child's face and you can make your own inferences on the matter of whether he hit his head, goodbye."
Since then I've been wretchedly ill my own self, and busy hovering over Big Child, who is handling his injury pretty well, I think. The middle school told him that if he just wanted to sit out the rest of the year and focus on recovering they'd leave his grades exactly where they were. I think he's going to go for it, but he wants to verify that one last grade is an A according to the scale the teacher uses before kissing the possibility of extra credit goodbye (he's determined to finish out the year with straight As). It kind of broke my heart that my kid sat there with a broken bone and worried about interrupting my day. He's asked me since then whether I'll be in trouble with my job for taking time off to take care of him (it took him a while to notice I'm sick too, but he's a kid and on narcotics besides so he gets a pass) and I told him the truth: that I can find another job if I need to but I only have one of him so it wouldn't matter if I did. Nobody seemed upset with me today when I went back in, although I did leave early after showing my face and catching up the filing, because I coughed my back out last night and have no voice to speak of.
I probably need a doctor, but...yeah. I have a refill of some antibiotics that I can pick up if need be, but it's more than I want to spend, and Hotter needs Cellcept. We'll see.
How are all of YOU?