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October 21, 2008

Sublime: Having your pediatrician around the corner, whose policy is to always see a kid on short notice in an emergency.

Ridiculous: Having to test that policy.

Last night the Peep tripped over … something.  He’s always tripping, falling, bashing himself on things – in a word, he’s two.  Ninety-five times out of a hundred, he shakes himself off and goes right back to whatever he’s doing.  Four times in a hundred, he needs the boo-boo to be kissed before he gets back to business.

And that other time in a hundred, we end up in the doctor’s office.

Anyway, last night he tripped.  And cried a lot more than usual, even after his foot got kissed by both Mama and Dada.  But he went to sleep as usual, and we didn’t really think much more about it.

Until this morning, when he got out of bed and immediately started crying and picking his foot off the floor.  Wuh-oh.  I checked his foot – no bruise, no swelling.  I got him dressed and put his slipper on, thinking maybe it was just a little tender.  But he wouldn’t put any weight on his foot for anything.  A couple of times he forgot and took a step, only to immediately melt down to the ground in tears.

I called the pediatrician and got an early afternoon appointment.  She examined his toes, foot, ankle, shin, and knee.  And couldn’t say whether there was a fracture, or a sprain, or anything.  She sent us to the hospital for precautionary X-rays.  Ninety minutes later – the last twenty of which he spent running around the waiting room – we got the results:  nothing broken, keep the Motrin handy, ice it if he’ll permit it, and call the doctor again if it doesn’t improve in a week.

Listen, I’m not naive.  I knew that the day would come when we’d end up in the emergency room, a day when he would require X-rays.  I just didn’t expect it to happen at age two…

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