X is for X-Ray @ Life is Good

I know that x is for x-ray is a cliché, and perhaps you also think it's a cop-out. Unfortunately for me, x-ray is all too familiar. And performed on me far more times than the average person. Than the average accident-prone person. Call me extra (Xtra?) accident prone. I've had all my arms and legs x-rayed over the years, not to mention collar bone, GI tract (oh that is a fun one, gotta drink a barium milk-shake first), I've had CAT scans, and I've had nasty stuff injected into me to show up on x-rays. And unfortunately, my boys have been x-rayed too.

There I am, sitting in hideous “car line” waiting to pick my kids up from school. (Obviously, this was before homeschooling.) If you're not familiar with car line, you're VERY lucky. It seems to me to be quite simple a procedure, but it becomes a nightmare when parents don't obey those simple rules. (Starting to feel a rant coming on...perhaps I'll do a separate post, because this one is about x-rays.) ANYWAY! Jake gets into the car. Crying. Holding an ice-pack on his right wrist. Crap! Seems he got beaned by a dodge ball on his way to jail. As in he was already out, and this one was just vicious. Unnecessary. We drop YellowBoy at Best's house and head to urgent care. And of course wait.

Hours later we receive really good news. Just a sprain, though a bad one. Guess all the money I spent on delivered dairy milk paid off. He's got some strong bones. Disaster averted, because two days after, we were scheduled to leave for our long-awaited snowboarding vacation with Aunt Risky, cousin GorgeousGirl, Sissie, and all the kids. It would have just broken my heart to have him miss snowboarding. However, my x-ray days were not over.

Aunt Risky has been treating us to these snowboarding long weekends for three years now. We go once in the beginning of the season, and once at the end. (Colorado's ski season is from about Thanksgiving, to about the middle of April.) So off we went, and everyone was having a wonderful time. They would head up onto the mountain, and I (because of my wrist) would stay behind to make sure that the condo didn't go anywhere. And someone has to drink the wine, keep the fire going, and make sure there are no lack-of-napping violations. I'm glad to take one for the team. (Yes, I miss skiing. Immensely. But you adjust.)

They return at the end of day two, exhausted, happy. Head for the hot tub. Aunt Risky says, “By the way, YellowBoy was saying he hurt his arm hurt on this last run. He did fall, and I looked at it (among her other numerous talents, Aunt Risky is not only a ski patrol, but also a trained paramedic) but it seems fine. No swelling, no obvious injury.” (I guess it should also be said that though she's a wonderful person in just about every way, Aunt Risky is not the one for sympathy. She's the one saying quit blubbering, rub some dirt in it, and let's GO!) So off he went to the hot tub, and an evening of water games.

However, he and I were sharing a bed at the condo, and that night was miserable. He kept waking me up, complaining about his arm, and then drifting off after that round of whining was done. It was a very long night. But it convinced me that perhaps just sucking it up wasn't going to work this time.

So it's off the the urgent care, for the second time, in six days. Fun, eh? Turns out YellowBoy had a “radial-distal fracture of the growth plate”. Huh. Guess he won't be snowboarding for a while. He got a temporary cast, and off we went. He recovered quickly (he's the only one I know who can drink more milk than Jake) and graduated from the cast to a splint and then was done. I thought our troubles were surely over. I mean, how many moms take both of their children to urgent care, in one week, for the same injury?

I'd venture to say, not very many, because it wasn't long before my insurance company called me. “Ma'am, we're looking over your recent claims here, and we have some questions. Is it true that you took your child to urgent care for his right wrist?” Yes, he hurt it in PE at school. “And then you took your OTHER child to urgent care, IN A DIFFERENT CITY, the same week?” Yes, we were on vacation. Snowboarding. “Well ma'am, this concerned us since it seems you ALSO saw a physician for YOUR right wrist the week before that. Is this also true?” By now I'm trying to remain calm, and trying not to freak out. Are they cutting us off? Is there a limit to right-wrist claims per family? Am I being reported to social services? “Yes, I saw my pain doctor the week before.” “Well tell me, how did THAT injury occur?” I fell off a chair. (I wasn't about to give him the version you got in Monday's post.) “So let me get this straight: you have a right wrist that you're still having treatment for. Your sons both have had right wrist injuries, separate from each other, and all these by accident?” Yes. I know this isn't normal, but this is my life. “Well ma'am, I wish you the best, but we have to follow up on these matters. A lot of insurance fraud out there.” Sure. Your welcome.

I'm happy to say no one has been to an urgent care facility in the last few months. And I'm hoping to keep it that way. Think I'll go pour all of us a glass of milk.

This post has been brought to you by the letter X and the fun Alphabe-Thursday meme at Jenny Matlock's. Head on over there and check out the other great X stories.