Broken Bones
Having my competitive steak is Jacks major down fall literally! If you can run fast he can run faster, sometimes faster than his legs will allow and so he falls down, but not before shouting “Jacks the winner”. And it was this trait that lead to his first broken bone.
The morning he broke his arm was like any other cleaning day with the kids playing in their rooms while I was down stairs sorting the house out. Once I heard footsteps along the landing I decided to hurry up as they would be charging down the stairs at any minuet demanding lunch or a drink.
Next thing I heard was one bang quickly followed by more banging and screaming ending with a thud at the bottom of the stairs. My heart instantly jumped into my throat as I dashed for the stairs, of course in these situations a few steps feels like a marathon and I just couldn't get to him quick enough. On opening the door there lying face down and motionless at the bottom was Jack. In those few seconds that he didn't move in the little square of a hall at the bottom of the stairs I was convinced he was dead. My head was screaming in panic and bile filled my throat. Grabbing him I rushed to the sofa to see what the damage was. I remember just seeing huge amounts of blood and not knowing for sure where it was coming from. With all the noise from Jack and Jessica crying too, I just couldn't think straight. Telling Jess to go and get a towel I tried to calm Jack down, only when your child is hurt you have this sense of helplessness, he was sitting on my knee and nothing I could do or say made any difference.
Once the blood had been wiped away assessing the damage I could see that he had a nasty bump to his head, a split lip, (this was the cause of all the blood, honestly I never knew lips could bleed so much!), a chipped tooth and a arm that he wouldn't or couldn't use.
Deciding that he needed to go to hospital I grabbed my phone and made a quick mental list of who to call, Rob was at work and too far away, Mum was out for the day, so that left Tasha. By time she answered just hearing her voice had me in tears and she promised to come straight away.
At the hospital Jack was still screaming his head off and wouldn't use his arm. Luckily the waiting room in A and E was unusually quite so while I booked Jack in Tasha took the kids to sit down in the colourful play area. Jack instantly picked up, stopped crying and began dashing around. Typical!! By the time I had taken a seat Jack was now using his arm. Boy didn't I feel stupid! After half an hour of waiting (which by our hospitals standards is really good) we were taken into a small curtained off cubical. Rob arrived just after looking hot and flustered and couldn't believe what all the fuss was about.Jack was playing,using his arm and generally acting normal. I knew what he was thinking, he didn't even have to say he thought that I was being a drama queen. He couldn't believe that just a hour ago our child was screaming blue murder and not using his arm. And to be honest if it was the other way round I probably would have said the same thing.
Once Jack had been checked over by the doctor,laughing as she shined the light in his eyes and being a devil not sitting still while she looked at his bump. she agreed that he had probably just sprained his wrist, but she decided to do an x-ray just in case. Some children she said just have no concept of things hurting and that using them is making them hurt more. Sitting in the x-ray department with Rob we were both convinced Jack was fine, and taking him in to have his x-ray I was sure they would sign him off with a clean bill of health. Jack loved the machine and sat perfectly on my knee as the lady took his special picture. He loved the coat that mummy had to wear around us both. Seconds later his arm appeared on the screen with a fracture just above the wrist. Sighing I couldn't believe it and nor could the technician she informed me. Walking out back into the waiting room to tell Rob,his face was a picture of shock. Jack ended up spending the next 4 weeks in a bright blue plaster which made bathing him a nightmare and keeping his hands clean even worse than normal. Luckily his right arm has healed perfectly.
On asking Jack later how he had fallen he told me that Jessica had jumped off the bottom step and so he told her that he could do it to, only Jack decided he could go one better and Jump from the top! See I told you he was competitive!
Thursday 20 November 2008
Monday 17 November 2008
New class New blog!
So after a week of taking part in the stories in hand class with the amazingly talented Jessica sprague over at www.jessicasprague.com I thought it would be a good idea to start a fresh blog for some place to keep these stories while they are awaiting printing or scrapping. The class has been fantastic so far starting with making the neatest little binders that you ever did see, and then filling them with memory sparks.Now we are on to the real stuff and learning how to turn these memories into words and making sure that you give enough information in them to not only make them interesting to the kids (who my file will be for of course!) but so that they can also get a real sense of the things you are talking about. I promise to post a pic tomorrow of my binder but for today here is my first go at getting those stories out. This one has even more meaning to me as today while I was writing this all out, I thought I would ring mum and ask her what she remembered of this story only to find out that she was just about to ring me to say that my Uncle Ray, my grandads brother and partner in crime, while they were growing up, died last night. This has given this class even more meaning for me and made me realise how important it is to get these stories down while the people who feature in them are around to answer the questions. Ok as always Ive rattled on lol. Here is my first story:
My Grandad David Whitehouse was a family man and very close to all of his grandchildren, well he had to be we all lived with him at one point or another with our mums growing up, I remember as a child that every remembrance Sunday Grandad would take a handful of us kids down to Riversley park to watch the old war heroes parading along the streets, with their jackets looking heavy with all the medals that they wore, towards the war memorial. Once there we would stand alongside all the scouts, girl guides and brownies that looked bored and cold trying to keep their huge flags upright, and sing hymns or say prayers thanking god for the soldiers that fought for our country. The best part for us was when, just as the clock struck eleven, the men from the army would bring their huge cannons forward and explode them. The noise was deafening and made the ground shake as one after another they exploded smoke into the cold air. This would make us children giggle and choke with the noise and smell. Grandad always had an extra job after this of keeping his grandchildren still and quite for the 2 minutes silence to remember all those that had fallen in the wars. For a lot of the years that I attended I cant say that I really understood the point of it, I knew little of the war and what these brave men had done. It was not until we were around 7 or 8 that we even thought to ask. It was walking back home after the memorial one year that we approached the subject. I'm not sure now who started the questions or which ones were asked but what I do remember from that quick walk home was the story that Grandad told. He began by explaining that during the second world war he was still quite young and also along with his brother Ray a little bit of a terror. After one night raid by the Germans a lot of the houses in the near by Manor court road had been bombed and destroyed. Thinking this was the perfect opportunity for them to explore the rubble him and Ray set off early the next day. It wasn't a long distance from their house and once there they started to try and climb the huge piles that were only yesterday someones homes. Stopping every so often to look through the debris, hoping I'm sure to find lost toys or other items that they could play with or exchange. Only after one of these stops Grandad saw a child's red wellington just sticking above the rubble, deciding that he would look closer he started to pull the boot out. Only he was to discover that horrifyingly the child's leg was still inside. Nothing else Grandad said just a leg. He then said how he and Ray had to take the boot and its contents to a police officer and explain how he had found it. As Grandad told us this story although he smiled, his eyes didn't hide the sorrow. And I remember thinking oh no we have made him cry and immediately tried to change the subject. The others thought this was a great story and wanted to ask more gruesome questions to which I have forgotten the answers. Looking back now I don't know if it was the horrors of the story or the horror of seeing a man I loved so much upset that has made me remember this day in more detail than any other remembrance Sunday that we attended.
My Grandad David Whitehouse was a family man and very close to all of his grandchildren, well he had to be we all lived with him at one point or another with our mums growing up, I remember as a child that every remembrance Sunday Grandad would take a handful of us kids down to Riversley park to watch the old war heroes parading along the streets, with their jackets looking heavy with all the medals that they wore, towards the war memorial. Once there we would stand alongside all the scouts, girl guides and brownies that looked bored and cold trying to keep their huge flags upright, and sing hymns or say prayers thanking god for the soldiers that fought for our country. The best part for us was when, just as the clock struck eleven, the men from the army would bring their huge cannons forward and explode them. The noise was deafening and made the ground shake as one after another they exploded smoke into the cold air. This would make us children giggle and choke with the noise and smell. Grandad always had an extra job after this of keeping his grandchildren still and quite for the 2 minutes silence to remember all those that had fallen in the wars. For a lot of the years that I attended I cant say that I really understood the point of it, I knew little of the war and what these brave men had done. It was not until we were around 7 or 8 that we even thought to ask. It was walking back home after the memorial one year that we approached the subject. I'm not sure now who started the questions or which ones were asked but what I do remember from that quick walk home was the story that Grandad told. He began by explaining that during the second world war he was still quite young and also along with his brother Ray a little bit of a terror. After one night raid by the Germans a lot of the houses in the near by Manor court road had been bombed and destroyed. Thinking this was the perfect opportunity for them to explore the rubble him and Ray set off early the next day. It wasn't a long distance from their house and once there they started to try and climb the huge piles that were only yesterday someones homes. Stopping every so often to look through the debris, hoping I'm sure to find lost toys or other items that they could play with or exchange. Only after one of these stops Grandad saw a child's red wellington just sticking above the rubble, deciding that he would look closer he started to pull the boot out. Only he was to discover that horrifyingly the child's leg was still inside. Nothing else Grandad said just a leg. He then said how he and Ray had to take the boot and its contents to a police officer and explain how he had found it. As Grandad told us this story although he smiled, his eyes didn't hide the sorrow. And I remember thinking oh no we have made him cry and immediately tried to change the subject. The others thought this was a great story and wanted to ask more gruesome questions to which I have forgotten the answers. Looking back now I don't know if it was the horrors of the story or the horror of seeing a man I loved so much upset that has made me remember this day in more detail than any other remembrance Sunday that we attended.
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