Evie 1Comment

Rainbow wheelchair

People keep asking me, “What happened?”

I get a little defensive when I hear that question, as if it comes with a side of judgment. Like when the X-Ray tech asked if Alice was being “rambunctious” when she twisted her ankle. That word hung in the air, in my mind.

I get people wanting to know what the deal is since Alice is cruising around in a rainbow-tastic wheelchair all of a sudden, but there was nothing rambunctious about what went down.

The kid twisted her ankle walking no more than ten feet away from me on a carpeted floor. How did it happen? Who the hell knows!

The fun thing is that the X-ray they took was a good news / bad news situation: no, her ankle’s not broken, but we do see this other suspicious thing.

Osteochondritis dissecans

Would someone please pass me my Encyclopedia Britannica?

Anyway, I knew it was nothing. Within a couple of days, Alice was walking just fine. No pain. No brace. No bruising.

I was sure her doctor was just trying to keep malpractice suits at bay when she said to make an appointment at Children’s Hospital to see a specialist.

Fine, fine. I’ll do my due diligence, but my mommy gut was telling me we were all good.

That’s why I felt like I’d been hit by a Mack truck when the doctor pressed on the bone that had looked suspicious on the X-ray and Alice shrieked.

“Well, we can confirm the diagnosis with an MRI, but we’ll need to put Alice under general anesthesia. If it is OCD, the treatment is a full-leg cast for six weeks.”

Alice's rainbow-unicorn cast

Holy shit. Get out of town, lady. Put my five-year-old in a full-leg cast for six weeks?? I had to put the brakes on this thing. No way. No to the MRI. No to the cast. No to all of it.

But in the end, we did confirm, we did get the cast, and we’re in week 2 of the whole wheelchair charade.

It hasn’t been fun. In fact, it’s involved a lot of tears about missed opportunities, a lot of jealousy for little sister, and a backache for me that just won’t quit.

But as I keep telling friends and family who ask, we’re making it work. Nothing lasts forever, but it must certainly feel like this will to Alice.

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