Caveman Calamity
The Fastball Family went on a ski trip to Mont Tremblant, Quebec just after Christmas for the first time (quick review: exceedingly expensive but excellent skiing conditions).
We aren't avid skiers, but given the opportunity to take the trip with some friends, we thought we'd go. Fitzroy Junior had received some new skis for Christmas and was keen to try them out. The Caveman was also excited to go after taking some lessons last year.
We headed to the hill, dropped a small fortune on lift tickets and rentals, and proceeded onto the slopes which were tightly packed with skiers and snowboarders of all types of skill levels.
To start off, Fitzroy Junior and I went up to the summit (an unbelieveable view from the peak) and went down a gentle beginners' trail which took about 40 minutes to descend. Beautiful conditions, tons of fresh groomed snow.
At the bottom, we met up with Mrs Fastball and the Caveman who had been trying things out on the 'bunny hill'. I watched the Caveman take the 'magic carpet' to the top and then gently carve back and forth down to the bottom, in full control and looking confident.
Feeling good about his abilities, Mrs Fastball and I made the fateful decision to take him up to the top of the mountain and take the same beginners' trail down that Fitzroy Junior and I took previously.
After a quick lunch at the top of the mountain in the jammed packed lodge (weiner dog for the Caveman), we were ready to tackle his first ever real ski run.
Fitzroy Junior went off ahead with the other families while Mrs Fastball and I were prepared to make our way down slowly with Caveman.
Right off the top, things were a bit worrisome. Caveman was uncharacteristically nervous. But he started off moving down the gradual slope, going back and forth and doing pretty well. Then he fell - gently - but he was not happy about it. "I don't want to do this anymore." But that's not an option when you are 2000 feet above the base of the hill on a trail that's 4 freaking miles long.
So, we told him he was doing a great job (which he was) and try again. Soon after, he was doing well again, but still was nervous. At one point, he got going a little fast, but I skiied ahead of him, blocked him off and eased him to a safe stop.
Then about a third of the way down, it started getting really crowded as the Nansen trail merged into another beginner slope. And the Caveman started getting freaked. And started NOT gently turning back and forth anymore - he 'froze' and started streaking down the hill at top speed, screaming his head off. "HELLLLLP". (Not disimilar from this Caveman adventure.)
Before I could catch up to him and stop him as I did before, he decided to bail. And not just fall over, a forward launch of his wee 64 pound body forward, out of his bindings. He landed about 15 feet in front of his skis.
As I arrived to help him, he was screaming his head off in a fit of Caveman anger not seen in a while. "I hate skiing, skiing is stupid, why did you make me go, I hate this, get me home.....AGGGGGGH."
Shortly after a ski patroller showed up and tried to calm him down in his lilting French accent: "Allo, my name is Reee-chard. I am 'ere to 'elp you."
"Aaaaaaagh, skiing is stupid, dumb skis, I hate this."
Richard started trying to 'examine' him, but Mrs Fastball and I said, kind of embarassed, "it's OK, he's fine, he is just mad." He didn't seem to be in pain, just enraged. But Richard asked him if anything hurt and he said "my arm a little", so help was called and Caveman was on his way down the hill in a toboggan to the medical clinic. I was thinking it was a waste of time, but happy that at least he would get down the mountain without any further mishaps.
As we got to the clinic, he started getting pale. After an hour wait, an Xray (yeah they have an Xray machine at Tremblant) revealed that it was good we listened to Richard - a broken radius and ulna. His little right arm was fractured in two places.
They wrapped him up and put a sling on. The doctor on duty said he could set the break - but the Caveman would have to be awake for it and he strongly recommended against traumatizing a seven-year old with that.
So Mrs Fastball and I piled into the car with the woozy Caveman and headed off to the Children's Hospital of Eastern Ontario (CHEO), back in Ottawa. We made the trip in about 1h 40 min. (That's pretty fast.) He didn't seem to be in a huge amount of pain, so he is either one tough little rig or was in shock. At one point on the drive home he said "Mommy, I am pretty mad. Can I swear?" After a chuckle, he got permission to swear. He came up with "DAMN I HATE SKIING."
When we got to see the doctor at CHEO, they sent him for some supplemental Xrays, then sat him down for a chat. The doctor was wonderful, a women of about our age, who had a seven year old son as well. She described what need to be done: "You will be asleep and have a great dream. While you are sleeping, we will move your arm so your bones line up properly again."
Caveman to the doctor: "You'll move my arm? But that will hurt! A lot!" (She tried to remind him he'd be asleep). "It will hurt so much I will wake up!"
Then to Mrs Fastball and I, with tears streaming down his face, starting to walk toward the exit.: "Let's go home. I don't think it's broken. Just a sprain. We can come back tomorrow!"
We finally got him calmed down. As we waited for staff to prepare the room, we read the book we had brought along for him. In the last few months he has really got into reading and this helped to get his mind off the upcoming procedure. He is reading "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" books which we got him for Christmas. In the waiting room, he read aloud to me, relaxing somewhat his frazzled nerves.
Then it was time for him to go into the room and he was getting panicky again. Another doctor, a young female intern, told him he would go to sleep and wake up with a cast. He looked relieved: "So, you won't be moving my bones around then. That's good." The intern was about to clarify, but a quick pair of silent head shaking stares from Mrs Fastball and I were enough for her to say with a smile "Um, well, yes, you will just wake up with a cast."
That seemed to calm him a bit - but he soon realized he was going to have to have a needle inserted for an IV. He was not pleased with this. And it took the nurse three tries to find a vein in his good arm. To distract him, I had brought his book into the room. I insisted he continue to read aloud to me as the nurse poked him with the needle; and he did: screaming the words out at that top of his lungs. It was a spectacle to witness, him shaking like a leaf, eyes rimmed in teams, terror in his eyes, but still reading line by line carefully and accurately in a voice that likely could be heard at the reception desk. The nurse whispered to my wife, "That's quite something him reading like that!"
As the Ketamine dripped into his veins he drifted off, with his eyes wide open and fluttering, which is apparently common. We left the room and let the doctors get to work in what was a relatively quick procedure.
When he awoke, he was still hallucinating, and went off on a stream of conciousness riff that had the doctors, nurse and parents cracking up. I wish I would have taped it - he was reliving the accident, describing it in a dreamlike montone, but the details were such that he was a character in a video game (his ramble ended with "Game Over").
He was given a popsicle to suck on, and, unprompted, proceeded to thank the nurse for the treat and also thank her "and your friends" for helping fix his arm.
The Caveman is convalescing at home. The cast will be on for six weeks. We are hoping Combat Sports Group does not pull its sponsorship, since he will be on the hockey team injured list until playoffs. It is his right arm, i.e. fastball pitching arm, but we are hopeful that his recovery will be a full one.
He is good spirits and has received several visits and phone calls with best wishes, and even got a few presents much to his surprise. ("Why would people give me presents just because I broke my arm? That's messed!")
Just to conclude, I would like to thank the staff at CHEO who are awesome. And I don't mean in the sense of that word as it is used slangly far too frequently ("This pizza is awesome." "What an awesome hit." "We won the tourney - it was awesome.") I mean awesome in the true sense of the word as per the dictionary: "inspiring an overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, produced by that which is grand, sublime, extremely powerful, or the like." You trust your kid with these doctors and nurses and they really are inspiring in this way and I am thankful we have a facility in the Ottawa area such as CHEO.
We aren't avid skiers, but given the opportunity to take the trip with some friends, we thought we'd go. Fitzroy Junior had received some new skis for Christmas and was keen to try them out. The Caveman was also excited to go after taking some lessons last year.
We headed to the hill, dropped a small fortune on lift tickets and rentals, and proceeded onto the slopes which were tightly packed with skiers and snowboarders of all types of skill levels.
To start off, Fitzroy Junior and I went up to the summit (an unbelieveable view from the peak) and went down a gentle beginners' trail which took about 40 minutes to descend. Beautiful conditions, tons of fresh groomed snow.
At the bottom, we met up with Mrs Fastball and the Caveman who had been trying things out on the 'bunny hill'. I watched the Caveman take the 'magic carpet' to the top and then gently carve back and forth down to the bottom, in full control and looking confident.
Feeling good about his abilities, Mrs Fastball and I made the fateful decision to take him up to the top of the mountain and take the same beginners' trail down that Fitzroy Junior and I took previously.
After a quick lunch at the top of the mountain in the jammed packed lodge (weiner dog for the Caveman), we were ready to tackle his first ever real ski run.
Fitzroy Junior went off ahead with the other families while Mrs Fastball and I were prepared to make our way down slowly with Caveman.
Right off the top, things were a bit worrisome. Caveman was uncharacteristically nervous. But he started off moving down the gradual slope, going back and forth and doing pretty well. Then he fell - gently - but he was not happy about it. "I don't want to do this anymore." But that's not an option when you are 2000 feet above the base of the hill on a trail that's 4 freaking miles long.
So, we told him he was doing a great job (which he was) and try again. Soon after, he was doing well again, but still was nervous. At one point, he got going a little fast, but I skiied ahead of him, blocked him off and eased him to a safe stop.
Then about a third of the way down, it started getting really crowded as the Nansen trail merged into another beginner slope. And the Caveman started getting freaked. And started NOT gently turning back and forth anymore - he 'froze' and started streaking down the hill at top speed, screaming his head off. "HELLLLLP". (Not disimilar from this Caveman adventure.)
Before I could catch up to him and stop him as I did before, he decided to bail. And not just fall over, a forward launch of his wee 64 pound body forward, out of his bindings. He landed about 15 feet in front of his skis.
As I arrived to help him, he was screaming his head off in a fit of Caveman anger not seen in a while. "I hate skiing, skiing is stupid, why did you make me go, I hate this, get me home.....AGGGGGGH."
Shortly after a ski patroller showed up and tried to calm him down in his lilting French accent: "Allo, my name is Reee-chard. I am 'ere to 'elp you."
"Aaaaaaagh, skiing is stupid, dumb skis, I hate this."
Richard started trying to 'examine' him, but Mrs Fastball and I said, kind of embarassed, "it's OK, he's fine, he is just mad." He didn't seem to be in pain, just enraged. But Richard asked him if anything hurt and he said "my arm a little", so help was called and Caveman was on his way down the hill in a toboggan to the medical clinic. I was thinking it was a waste of time, but happy that at least he would get down the mountain without any further mishaps.
As we got to the clinic, he started getting pale. After an hour wait, an Xray (yeah they have an Xray machine at Tremblant) revealed that it was good we listened to Richard - a broken radius and ulna. His little right arm was fractured in two places.
They wrapped him up and put a sling on. The doctor on duty said he could set the break - but the Caveman would have to be awake for it and he strongly recommended against traumatizing a seven-year old with that.
So Mrs Fastball and I piled into the car with the woozy Caveman and headed off to the Children's Hospital of Eastern Ontario (CHEO), back in Ottawa. We made the trip in about 1h 40 min. (That's pretty fast.) He didn't seem to be in a huge amount of pain, so he is either one tough little rig or was in shock. At one point on the drive home he said "Mommy, I am pretty mad. Can I swear?" After a chuckle, he got permission to swear. He came up with "DAMN I HATE SKIING."
When we got to see the doctor at CHEO, they sent him for some supplemental Xrays, then sat him down for a chat. The doctor was wonderful, a women of about our age, who had a seven year old son as well. She described what need to be done: "You will be asleep and have a great dream. While you are sleeping, we will move your arm so your bones line up properly again."
Caveman to the doctor: "You'll move my arm? But that will hurt! A lot!" (She tried to remind him he'd be asleep). "It will hurt so much I will wake up!"
Then to Mrs Fastball and I, with tears streaming down his face, starting to walk toward the exit.: "Let's go home. I don't think it's broken. Just a sprain. We can come back tomorrow!"
We finally got him calmed down. As we waited for staff to prepare the room, we read the book we had brought along for him. In the last few months he has really got into reading and this helped to get his mind off the upcoming procedure. He is reading "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" books which we got him for Christmas. In the waiting room, he read aloud to me, relaxing somewhat his frazzled nerves.
Then it was time for him to go into the room and he was getting panicky again. Another doctor, a young female intern, told him he would go to sleep and wake up with a cast. He looked relieved: "So, you won't be moving my bones around then. That's good." The intern was about to clarify, but a quick pair of silent head shaking stares from Mrs Fastball and I were enough for her to say with a smile "Um, well, yes, you will just wake up with a cast."
That seemed to calm him a bit - but he soon realized he was going to have to have a needle inserted for an IV. He was not pleased with this. And it took the nurse three tries to find a vein in his good arm. To distract him, I had brought his book into the room. I insisted he continue to read aloud to me as the nurse poked him with the needle; and he did: screaming the words out at that top of his lungs. It was a spectacle to witness, him shaking like a leaf, eyes rimmed in teams, terror in his eyes, but still reading line by line carefully and accurately in a voice that likely could be heard at the reception desk. The nurse whispered to my wife, "That's quite something him reading like that!"
As the Ketamine dripped into his veins he drifted off, with his eyes wide open and fluttering, which is apparently common. We left the room and let the doctors get to work in what was a relatively quick procedure.
When he awoke, he was still hallucinating, and went off on a stream of conciousness riff that had the doctors, nurse and parents cracking up. I wish I would have taped it - he was reliving the accident, describing it in a dreamlike montone, but the details were such that he was a character in a video game (his ramble ended with "Game Over").
He was given a popsicle to suck on, and, unprompted, proceeded to thank the nurse for the treat and also thank her "and your friends" for helping fix his arm.
The Caveman is convalescing at home. The cast will be on for six weeks. We are hoping Combat Sports Group does not pull its sponsorship, since he will be on the hockey team injured list until playoffs. It is his right arm, i.e. fastball pitching arm, but we are hopeful that his recovery will be a full one.
He is good spirits and has received several visits and phone calls with best wishes, and even got a few presents much to his surprise. ("Why would people give me presents just because I broke my arm? That's messed!")
Just to conclude, I would like to thank the staff at CHEO who are awesome. And I don't mean in the sense of that word as it is used slangly far too frequently ("This pizza is awesome." "What an awesome hit." "We won the tourney - it was awesome.") I mean awesome in the true sense of the word as per the dictionary: "inspiring an overwhelming feeling of reverence, admiration, produced by that which is grand, sublime, extremely powerful, or the like." You trust your kid with these doctors and nurses and they really are inspiring in this way and I am thankful we have a facility in the Ottawa area such as CHEO.
Labels: Caveman
posted by fitzroyfastball | 12/30/2012 11:54:00 pm
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