Yesterday evening, we went to the park. I biked over, E picked up the kiddo, and we met at the little park by the branch library. Kiddo was more interested in the trucks & buses driving by than the slides or swings, so we hung out on the grass for a while, and chased him.
He ran, giggled, fell over, and all was well. At one point, he got a little close to traffic, so I herded him back toward the playground. He ran around me and back out to traffic, and like I’ve done a hundred times before, I grabbed his arm, hoisted him in the air, and swung him around me so he was facing the other direction.
This time, though, when he landed, he was visibly upset. “Owie mano,” and he clutched his little hand.
My heart sunk. Obviously something was wrong. He was just sort of stunned at first, but eventually started crying, and for the next few minutes, it got progressively worse. Nothing in his hand appeared to specifically upset him, but he kept repeating “Owie mano.”
E put him in the car, I biked home, gathered up some stuff, and we went off to the emergency room. Fortunately, on the way there, E had the clarity to call the pediatricians’ office, which was still open. At the Summit parking lot, they called us back & talked us through the issue. The nurse on the other side thought his elbow might be dislocated, and taught us to sit with him facing us, grabbing his elbow with one hand, holding his palm down at his thigh, then to rotate his hand so his palm was facing up, and his elbow was bent, sort of like a “what’s up?” gesture.
I didn’t feel anything pop, as the nurse suggested, but almost immediately, he began using his hand again. I couldn’t have been more grateful, and of course, now that the immediate urgency was over, I ended up bawling like a … well, like a baby.
I know he’ll get injured as he grows up. I just felt absolutely gutted that it was my fault. That literally, *I* did this to him. I’ll be more careful in the future, but… man.