Tough Chick

A week and a half ago Gwendolyn broke her leg. The ropes on her swing frayed and snapped, one then the other, dropping her in such a way as to cause an incomplete fracture of the distal end of her right tibia. I was at work at the time, so only came to know of the accident by cell phone. Since the fracture was not displaced, it was not immediately apparent that any bones were broken. But based on Gwendolyn's level of agitation, we decided to take her to the emergency room.

I met Sara and Gwendolyn at the ER, and examined my daughter's legs. Sara had told me that she couldn't walk on her right leg. No bruising presented itself, and both legs looked the same. As long as she was in my or Sara's arms, Gwendolyn didn't even seem agitated. She spotted the water cooler, decided she wanted to go for it, and took only one step before her right foot buckled under her.



Sure enough, the x-ray revealed the fracture; the ER doc splinted her, and the next day we went to an orthopedist for a cast. Mid-thigh to toes on the right side, Gwendolyn is now wrapped in fiberglass, reminding me of my middle-school injury that kept me in a similar getup from thigh to ankle for six weeks.

"Toddlers can't use crutches," the orthopedist told us, "and this is not a walking cast."

Yeah, right.

Once the bone was immobilized, Gwendolyn seemed unfazed by her injury. The first two days in a cast saw her scooting around on her bum and crawling at full velocity, dragging her fiberglass anchor along. Only at night did she have problems; and I am uncertain whether she woke up at night because of pain or because cuddling up next to a scratchy log is never comfortable. All in all, Gwendolyn adapted to her new millstone with greater speed--and less whining--than most adults, including myself, can manage. I suppose that when life is still a long series of discoveries, with little expectation of permanence, new challenges are just little adjustments along the way.

The doc designed the cast to be a hindrance to walking. The ankle and knee are both bent at thirty degrees, which makes it both in the way and too long for easy ambulation. However, of the many concepts my daughter does not yet grasp, "can't" is on top of the list. So on Day Three she had figured out how to walk in the cast.

She's not as fast as she used to be (though she gets quicker every day), but she manages to balance on her left foot with the cast as a kick-stand or crutch, depending on whether she's still or moving. She doesn't complain about it, doesn't wince when she moves, and shows no sign that she's frustrated at having to move a little more slowly toward her ball.

She is even kicking the soccer ball to me in the kitchen--with her casted foot.

My daughter's a tough chick.


~emrys