Broken?

So. I’ve been chuntering on for a long while now about Harry’s difficulties in walking for more than a few feet, yes? Well, although I’ve not got around to posting it yet, his new boots have helped his walking substantially. He’s been falling over quite a bit less.

Except he can’t walk at all now. Not one single fucking step.

Because I took him to the park, and helped him to clamber up the steps to the slide that is probably too steep, and several feet too long, for a 19 monther. And I watched from the top of the steps as he slid down several times on his tummy, feet first, with a smile that lit up the cloudy afternoon, before running back around to me where I was waiting on the steps to help him climb.

He slid down again, disappearing from my view half-way. And didn’t reappear at the bottom. Dozens of people in the busy park all stopped and looked to see who was emitting the shrieks of pain.

When I ran round to see what had happened, I found him wedged at a horrible angle, half-way down the slide, with his left ankle stuck up by his ear. He cried and cried and cried. After I had cuddled him tight I tried to put him down; he took one step and collapsed. And he cried some more. And tried to stand again. And couldn’t. He looked at me piteously, in total puzzlement and distress, and held up his arms to be carried instead.

The local minor injuries nurse looked at him with me. We agreed he was in pain. We agreed it was his left leg. Where on his left leg, though, puzzled us both. Paediatric x-ray should be limited to the smallest possible area, so looking at the whole leg on spec was not in his best interests. She told me she couldn’t properly diagnose the problem area, although her instinct was telling her that it was muscular/tendon in nature, and not a greenstick. She left it up to me whether to take him to our district hospital for a (probable) several-hour wait to be seen, or see how he went overnight.

He’d stopped crying – unless he attempted anything ambitious, like, you know, standing – at this point, so I brought him home. I Calpol-ed him to the max and fed him all the treats that I usually dole out by strict rationing for tea. He was insanely frustrated and miserable about his non-ambulatory status,but went down to sleep quietly enough, and we shall see how he goes through the night.

The Family Doctor/Sports Injury Specialist contingent of the Delightful Doctors Next Door has told me to bring Harry over very first thing tomorrow if he still can’t walk, and he will try to assess exactly what the trouble is.  Have I mentioned recently that our neighbours are awesome?

 My poor little boy. Why does everything happen to you? And why can’t I suffer your pain for you?

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