The Man-Cub had an appointment with the orthopedist today and the news was good; his arm is not broken, per se. Instead, he has what the doctor called a compression fracture involving the cartilage between his wrist and ulna. I was relieved to hear that he would not need a cast but somewhat confused by the diagnosis since I thought that cartilage could not be fractured being as it isn’t actual bone. So, wouldn’t his injury qualify as a really bad sprain? Not according to the doctor who, I guessed, is more knowledgeable about the situation than I am.
Oookaayy, so; no cast (Diplomas on the wall, Chelle. Diplomas on the wall).
My faith in the doctor's education was shaken, however, when he cleared the Cub to participate in PE, as long as he is wearing a wrist brace.
Um, ok? (Diplomas! Med school!)
It was completely shattered when, two seconds later, he also cleared him to attend tomorrow’s school ski trip.
I’m going to let that sink in for a second.
A medical professional cleared my son, who, for the past week, has been wearing a splint on his arm, to participate in the activity that put him in the splint in the first place. AND, that medical professional held in his very hands the file that detailed each of the child’s previous four broken bones, his numerous trips to the emergency room for stitches, a detailed description of how he knocked out his top four teeth when he was three and his admission to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy (Ok, not sports-related but, STILL).
You can buy those diplomas on the internet, right?
On the bright side, the Cub was stoked. And, we won’t be out the $40 that we have already forked over for the trip.
Oh, we’re still ten times that for x-rays and co-pays and whatnot but, who’s counting, right?
Oh yeah, that would be me; I’m a professional counter. I bet I could even find a diploma to prove it.