Brace Yourself

Last night we took the kids to Awana as usual and when we got back the Awana leaders were waiting for us saying, "You are {Eraser Eater's} mom, right?" They had him back in some office icing the back of his neck. "He hasn't moved," a stern Awana leader said, with her arms crossed. "We tried to get a hold of you, but..."
"We weren't home and we don't have a cell phone..." I trailed off. I looked at Eraser Eater. He looked like the shuffling lame guy on the Usual Suspects. He had his red Awana vest on and he just looked forward, neck sort of craned down, shoulders uneven. It looked bad.

"I am so sorry," I said.

The lady looked at me with her arms crossed like I had trespassed against her. She was extremely condescending. She was acting like I had stayed out past curfew. She wanted to punish me.

"I would take him to the hospital," one of them urged.

He looked like he could go. But it's hard to tell with Eraser Eater. The boy is so pain tolerant. And I don't mean he can fall on the ground and go without coming up to me crying. I mean, he can break an arm or two, come at me whimpering a little as the arm is dangling at his side as he is trying desperately to hold it up with the other hand. I am the one who is a mess. He will sit there on the floor, arm completely useless, limp and distorted and beg me not to cry so much.

I really wish Dear Sir had been in that room to see him. The side of his neck was all jutted out, or at least it looked like it or maybe it was the way he was carrying his pain, but he could not move his head to one side period. Apparently he fell and then got up and then the pain jolted him into a paralyzed state.

"He's been like this for AN HOUR," the stern woman said with her arms crossed.

Ok, so do I have to hear it again? Must you torture me with my apparent inability to be a prompt and loving mother? Is it a crime to not have a cell phone? I mean, what did anyone do before we had them?

So I took my Eraser-eating-freak to the hospital. Actually, Dear Sir and the crew and I took him. He was talking on the way, glad he was going because he just could not think of how he would sleep. "I could sleep sitting, I guess," he offered.

Dear Sir wanted to take him home because he knew what it was because he had the same thing happen once. I was worried because I don't like messing around with any sort of neck injury---I don't care if it is muscle or bone or disc or what. So for my own comfort I took him back (and the hospital was very quick with getting him back there) and we got X-ray's done and sat in a room and watched Animal Planet. The boy loves Animal Planet. They had him in a neck brace and he looked like a native African woman with the neck rings. They had him hobbling around at first but then just put him in a wheel chair to get him from room to room.

Of course he has what Dear Sir said he had, but they gave him some strong meds when we were discharged and even a prescription to boot. They said something about whiplash and torticolis. When we finally got out of there Dear Sir, the Girl, and the Oldest were reading magazines and it was almost eleven at night. Dear Sir was already tired. The Girl wheeled around, all poison ivy faced, and smiled.

Eraser Eater dragged himself out of the hospital just like the lame Usual Suspects guy. "My pain isn't so bad now," he mumbled to the ground. (He was still unable to move his head)

"They gave you medicine," I said, "it makes your brain think that you aren't in pain."

Good grief, I hope he is in pain. I went through a lot of trouble for him to come out feeling fine. Gee whiz.

Now the train cars of guilt are rushing by, and I can't wait to see the last one with the platform on it so I can safely hurry over the tracks with the horn blowing softly in the distance.