Unfortunately, life with an active, opinionated toddler occasionally means bumps and bruises.
And that rite of passage known as the first ER visit.
Yesterday as we were leaving a playdate, Claire decided she wasn't ready to go, so she threw herself to the floor. Dave grabbed her by the hand to encourage her to move. He got her to her feet, but she tripped, and he didn't let go.
Screaming, we carried her down the street, to the subway. Then home.
She wasn't moving the arm, and my heart sunk lower and lower.
Luckily, the hospital is about 8 blocks away, and has a pediatric ER. While the main hospital is a public hospital and pretty reviled, the pediatric unit gets rave reviews. Dave ran for the car and we drove over there lickety-split.
Within minutes, we were registered and then being seen by a young triage nurse. A few minutes later, we were seeing a pediatric resident. She diagnosed Nursmaid's Elbow - a partial dislocation of one of the bones in the forearm and reset it on the spot. It took two tries, but Claire was a trooper. By that point, Claire's tears were mostly because she was scared, not from the pain.
We had to spend a few more minutes waiting for Claire to decide to use the arm and prove that it was repaired.
From the time we left the house, everyone in tears, to the time we were leaving the hospital.
Then we were back home for episodes of Dora, pizza and ice cream for dinner and many cuddles and kisses.