One incredibly annoying problem inherent in all babies is the inability to communicate. The best they can possibly do when something is amiss, is cry for all they’re worth. While this can roughly let the parent know that something is wrong, that wrongness could range from a wet diaper, to an empty stomach, to the vocalizing of displeasure at having her hand stepped on by the dog.
Therefore, it is quite a relief when they reach that age where they can accurately relay these important messages, and take the guesswork out of the whole parenting equation. This is something I was very happy about this past weekend.
On Saturday, Tamara’s grandmother had her 91st birthday. It was a great party with smoked ribs, mac & cheese, and some of the best birthday cake I’ve ever had. We had fun talking, doing a little archery, and playing football in the front yard. My two boys also had a ball terrorizing Aunt Francis’ dog and cats.
It was during one of these canine play periods that Gage ended up falling to the floor and injuring his arm. The boy was inconsolable and couldn’t use his hand to grip much of anything. A couple of Tamara’s cousins work in the field of nursing, and they looked the boy over pretty closely. There was no swelling or discoloration, but they advised us to get him some motrin, ice it down, and let him rest for a while. At this point, we honestly didn’t know if he was really, really hurt or if there was just a good measure of tiredness involved.
We took him home, gave him the drugs, and put him to bed. The boy went out like a light, and slept all night long. However, the next morning, Griffin woke me up about 6:00 and said Gage was calling for me and he couldn’t get out of bed. We got him up and Tamara took him to ProMed as soon as it opened.
The doctor examined him and suspected that it was a dislocated elbow, but took some X-rays just to make sure. After all, you don’t want to go yanking around on an arm if it is, in fact, broken. Gage thought it was pretty cool to look at the pictures of his bones, and the films ended up confirming what the doctor thought.
Gage had a dislocated elbow, and it was merely a matter of popping it back in. It will not be an experience that ranks very high on his “All Time Favorites” list, but Gage was immediately able to move his hand and arm again. His first item of business was to console himself by picking up his green blanket and rubbing the tag on his lip. That’s our boy!
I’m so glad he was able to tell us where the pain was and what actions caused him physical discomfort. It made it possible to quickly get him the help he needed. I suppose we should enjoy this while it lasts. For some reason, we tend to grow out of that phase where we can express our pain. Physical pain, sure, but the stuff that eats us up from the inside we tend to just keep to ourselves.
It could be because of pride, though when you sit down and think about it, that’s a pretty silly reason to live in misery. It might be that we think we’re the only one going through an issue, which again, is a somewhat ignorant assumption. Everybody has problems, everyone needs a friend, and at many points in our lives, we all need help to make it through.
This was really highlighted for me at Sunday night’s church service. We had communion, then spent some time talking and praying with different individuals. It almost seemed chaotic watching people randomly walk all about the church and meet in small groups to share and pray, but there was no chaos to it. It was a deliberately choreographed event where people followed the urgings of God’s Holy Spirit.
I’m thoroughly convinced that we weren’t meant to fight through life alone. Even though most of us can make it through a crisis, it’s the day to day living that tends to eat you alive. We all have problems, and I think most all of us have friends that care enough to help us work through them. It’s really up to us to point to where the pain is and tell them how it hurts.
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