Cheerleading is Dangerous

Baby Girl sustained her first sports related injury last night. I’ve mentioned that she is cheering for the first time this year and loving it. Well, she has practice on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s from 6 – 7:45p. They are getting ready for football season and all of the girls are working really hard. Baby Girl is the “top” for all stunts because she is the smallest on the squad. Last night, she was formally introduced to the pain of a sports related injury. She didn’t fall off the pyramid or twist and ankle doing jumps. No, my Baby Girl got her hand slammed in a car door after practice.

I arrived to pick her up from practice at 7:45p. I had to talk to the sponsor and get her shoes, socks, mid-drift (huh – she’s 8), drop off $25 for “cheer mom” shirts, $25 for “cheer dad” shirts, $10 for “spirit shirt”, $17 for a decal to stick on my car to let everyone know that I am stupid enough to invest butt loads of money for an 8 year old to cheer and $12 for building rental so that the girls don’t die of heat stroke practicing outside. So, there I was doling out cash and getting the rundown on when she is supposed to wear her cheer shoes when I heard the most blood curdling scream.

I turned around in time to see my daughter clutching her hand and screaming while one of the dads tried to comfort her. I ran (yes, I can run) across the parking lot to find that her hand had been accidentally slammed in the door by one of her teammates. Baby Girl was hysterical! I finally got her to let me look at it and there was a long, deep indention across the top of her right hand that matched the door latch. One of the other moms had the ice from her coke left so I dumped it out and held it on Baby Girl’s hand and started talking to her to calm her down.

Meanwhile – the dad is about to have a breakdown. It was his car door in which her hand got slammed and it was his child that did the slamming. I really thought he was going to cry – he was so concerned and stood there wringing his hands saying, “I am so sorry, I am so sorry”. He had already run and gotten her a bag of ice for her hand and then he carried her to the car. I assured him she would be fine but the poor guy was just so upset.

On the way home she was complaining that she couldn’t move her fingers. Now, the first question I asked her when this happened was if she felt like she was going to throw up – the first sign of a broken bone. She said no. So, the logical side of me that has had more than my share of injuries, knew it wasn’t broken but the mother side of me would rather be safe than sorry. Not to mention that she is a drama queen and I knew that she wasn’t going to believe it wasn’t broken until someone in a white coat told her so. So, I headed to the hospital.

We arrived at the hospital with our dripping bag of ice water and checked in at the desk. Baby Girl informed the intake nurse that her hand was broken. We filled out paperwork and had a seat in the waiting room. Baby Girl informed me that she wanted a pink cast – or maybe green to match her uniform. I told her we needed to wait for the doctor to decide. She then informed me that she had gotten the hand brace (stole it from Nana’s yard sale stuff a few weeks ago) because she “saw this coming”. Oh the drama! Anyway, we went to triage and they took her blood pressure with the automatic cuff which she said was cutting her arm off. Good thing we were in a hospital. They gave her a Loratab (sp?) for the “severe pain” and we waited some more and some more and some more. We finally got back to the “room” which was the hallway in the Peds ER and waited some more. While we were there we saw a child with a gash in his head about 5 inches long, another child with a crushed toe getting a cast, a teen come in on a stretcher with a huge wrapping on his leg and blood everywhere, a child getting stitches to a gash on his chest and we listened to another child vomit for 4 hours. The there was us with basically a busted blood vessel and an overactive sense of the dramatic. I really felt kind of stupid sitting there but again – better safe than sorry.

We finally got to go back for x-rays where Baby Girl informed the nurse that her hand was broken and she wanted a pink cast. The nurse told her we would have to wait and see what the doctor said to which she replied, “that’s what my mamma said”. Like, Dang! I guess she got to you too. We finished the x-rays and went back to our hall and waited. FINALLY the doctor came over and told us that her hand wasn’t broken (duh) but that she was going to put her in a sling for a few days and she was on “restrictive duty” until she was pain free. Ummmm – am I the only person that has been watching her use her hand to fluff her pillow, readjust herself on the bench and move it in every direction to get x-rays? I would say she is pain free now but I’m only a mother and I didn’t go to medical school so I’m sure I’m an idiot.

We left the hospital with our sling and our prescription for Loratab. We hadn’t eaten dinner yet so we pulled through McDonald’s to get some food. She said she needed “something easy to eat with my left hand” so instead of her normal Big Mac, she got two hamburgers and an order of fries (which she ate with her right hand). We got home extremely late and she was exhausted. She got in bed and was out in 2 minutes.

This morning, I kept her home from school. Not because of her arm but because she’d only had like 5 hours sleep and she requires at least 10 hours to even function. When she finally emerged from her room, with her sling and her hospital bracelets still on her arm she requested ice cream for breakfast. I explained that she is not sick and her arm isn’t broken so she is NOT having ice cream for breakfast. “Fine – I guess I’ll just have a bagel then” is her response.

I got a call from the mother of the “slammer” to check on Baby Girl. I assured her that everything was fine. She was almost as upset as the dad. She wanted to help pay the bills or something and I told her no that it was an accident and that I have good insurance. So, she got my address so that she can “send her something”. Oh Lord – the child is going to start slamming body parts in doors to get balloons now.

I’m very glad that Baby Girl didn’t sustain a serious injury but I think I would be way more compassionate if she had. I mean I have a really hard time sympathizing with someone who wears a sling for a busted blood vessel. Don’t get me wrong, I know it hurt and I know it scared her and in the moment, I was extremely compassionate and loving. But today…………yeah, the going from romping in the floor and wrestling with the dog to sitting on the couch in a sling propped up on 3 pillows is really starting to get old. When she tells me how much her hand hurts I want so badly to say, “oh yeah, well if you think a smashed hand hurts just wait until you get an episiotomy!” If I make it to her 14th birthday it will be a miracle!