There is one small hill on the loop. In the days leading up to this fated event, the temperatures had gotten into the 50's and then plummeted to the single digits. Much snow had melted, subsequently frozen solid, and a dusting of new snow had sugar coated the terrain. Our neighbors sometimes drive through the snow in the pastures, so there can be some uneven terrain. We quickly talked about taking our skis off and walking down the small hill, but decided against it. I went first and stopped half way down the hill. Having metal edged skis, stopping wasn't very difficult. John and Cally skied past us, Cally with a huge smile on her face, laughing, and John with a clear look of concern. He was going too fast and knew a fall was in his near future. Having true cross country skis without edges, his options for slowing down were limited. Using his best quick judgement, he decided to try to do a modified hockey stop and fell on his butt (concerned about Cally getting thrown forward over his shoulders). Cally's laughing turned to a cry...... not a screaming cry, a sort of muffled sad cry.
We assumed she was just scared from the fall, but realized that there had to be something else going on. We asked her what hurt and she said it was her ankle. We quickly skied the 100 yards home, got her off John's back, brought her to the couch, pealed off her boots, snowsuit, and tights and assessed what was wrong. There was no obvious swelling, but she pointed to her thigh when asked what hurt and wanted nothing to do with putting weight on it. We immediately grabbed the diaper bag, a sling, and put both kids in the car heading directly to the ER in Burlington. Cally sat quietly in the car, not really crying, but not engaging in conversation either..... which is when we both knew something was really, really wrong. Having been a ski patroller and taken children off the mountain who had broken their femur, I knew that the tell tale pain wasn't necessarily as obvious for them. Because they lack the muscular development, the leg doesn't contract and convulse like it would with an adult.
We were admitted immediately into a room in the ER and within 20 minutes X-rays were being taken of Cally's leg. The nurses, doctors and staff could not have been nicer to us. No one ever shamed us for doing what we were doing and they all engaged Cally, making her feel special and of their utmost concern. Within an hour of being at the hospital, an orthapedic doctor had looked at her X-rays and broken the bad news to us. Cally had broken her femur and would need to go to the OR to have it set and place her in a spica cast (aka a body cast-- see photo below). They thought they could get her into the OR by 8pm. Meanwhile, Cally charmed the ER staff and patiently waited without any pain killers. This is a picture of the brave girl in the ER, showing off her brother to the staff.
By 9:30pm, it was clear that she wasn't going to get into the OR anytime soon, so they transferred her to the pediatric ward at the hospital. She was exhausted and would fall asleep, only to jolt herself awake every 20 minutes or so. We tried giving her pain killers, but she refused anything orally. At midnight, the OR finally called, ready to get her down there. She went into the OR at 12:30am. At 1:30am, the attending surgeon came to tell us everything went well and that she had come out of surgery just fine. At 2:30am she was transferred back to the pediatric ward, where we stayed together as a family in her room, John on a reclining chair, Hazen and me on a spare bed.
Hearing that your active, spirited two-year old has to be in a body cast for 4-6 weeks while also caring for a 3 week old infant is not the kind of news any parent wants to get. But it is what it is and you deal, you plow forward and you figure it out. I'm not going to lie, I was overwhelmed, devestated for her, and just wanted to cry. But, you can't. You have to keep it positive, because she is positive...... even when she has a body cast and can't practice jumping, go on "bear hunts", ski, or run fast. You wouldn't believe this girl. Yes, she's out of sorts and maybe a little whinier than usual, but she still has that wonderful smile, spunk, and charm.
And we're figuring it out and realizing that she still can do so much...... Thanks to a fantastic wagon that her Bumpa and Grandma got her for Christmas she can go on rides around the house and even went to ECHO, a children's museum, on Wednesday.
She can eat breakfast at the table.
She can have her toes "painted" by wonderful friends who come over and read to her.
And she can play, in a different sort of way.....
And even bathing is doable:
I know that 4-6 weeks is but a blip in time and feel so fortunate that Cally isn't faced with a permanent disability. I know that this is going to make our family stronger and prove to us that we can do a lot more than we ever thought we could. I know it will make us a little more aware of the risks involved with our active lifestyle.
But I also know that we couldn't do this with any other cast of characters. Cally is nothing short of amazing; Hazen, well, he deserves his own blog entry here because of how amazing he's been; John obviously feels horrible about what happened, but he's doing everything emotionally and physically possible to make this situation better; our friends-- it makes me cry just thinking about how generous they are with their love, time, books, and support; our family, for being willing to come up here and help. I know it could be so much worse, but I also know that there are a lot of really compassionate and wonderful people out there who aren't judging us for what happened and offering the love and support that we need.
