The cast

On a warmish Sunday afternoon late in February, we decided to take F to the playground to burn off some energy. He had a great time, as usual; he has never met a stranger and will immediately approach anyone and ask them to play. On this particularly day the kids were a little older than him, but he doesn't care, he considers everyone a friend. He was swinging on the monkey bars and I watched him get one ring farther from the platform than he usually does (trying to keep up with the big kids). I got up to head his way and saw him struggling to get back, but he was unable to get his footing. I started moving faster and then he let go, dropping about 2 or 3 ft to the ground. I saw his right foot hit the ground first with the toes pointed down, and he immediately started to cry. I felt terrible!!! I scooped him up thinking he would shake it off like usual. I jokingly asked if we needed to cut off his foot, which usually makes him giggle, but the crying got worse. Through his sobs he said he wanted to go home...what? He never wants to leave when there are friends there. So we get home and look at it, he won't let us touch it, won't put any weight on it. There is no swelling or bruising, so it can't be broken, right? Hours later there is no improvement, and he cried and said it hurt all night. My child rarely cries, so I was worried.
To compound matters, the next two days I MUST be at school. It is the science fair; I have all sorts of deliveries being made and parent volunteers to help set-up and then the following day there are 12 judges coming from various hospitals and businesses to judge my 7th graders. No one helps with this event. I am the sole organizer. How is it that kids are able to time this sort of stuff so perfectly?
Luckily, Mark was able to take him to the doctor on Monday. Half way through set-up I get word that his pediatrician said he needed an x-ray, and the x-ray shows it's broken. OMG!
One of the parents volunteering was able to suggest a wonderful pediatric orthopedist, Dr. Reed. Amazingly, he could see him on Tuesday, but again I had to be at work and Mark had to go out of town. Thank God my mom was able to meet Mark at the doctor and then take F home afterwards.



I was shocked to see him come home with a red cast and not an orange cast, but he wanted it to look like Lightning McQueen.


He was on bed rest for a 24 hours to keep the swelling down, but after that he was supposed to walk on it in order to stimulate bone growth. He was very hesitant at first. The boot he wore over the cast made one leg about 4 inches longer than the other, so I had to get him a lift for his left shoe.

It did not take long for him to adjust and about a week later he was running on it. Aside from not being able take a bath, it wasn't awful. Not that I'm ready to do it again anytime soon!


He was a trouper. He had it for 28 days and it almost feels like a distant memory.