The 16th Wasn't As Happy As All That

On Saturday, our oldest son turned 16. It's a momentous age, especially for boys. Driving is what they seem to live for from the time they're three and a half months old. Josh has yet to get his permit, though. But he has a good excuse for not getting it the day he turned 16.

He's a working boy, and we're so proud of the fact that he's a dedicated and hard worker everywhere he goes. He was up at early o'clock on Saturday to be at a job first thing in the morning. He wanted to finish up that one so that he could get to another one that day before having to be home for his party in the evening. While he was at work, I was making party things happen around the house and planning a huge breakfast for when he got home. When he came in I said, "happy birthday!" His response was, "I broke my finger."

Because that's exactly what you want to do on your 16th birthday.

Being a mom, my first reaction was, "OH MY GOSH, GET IN THE CAR. WE'RE HEADING TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM NOW." It was a good first reaction, so I went with it. At the ER, we learned that he snapped the bone clear through, and he had 8 stitches to pull the gaping skin back together. Mind you, the 8 stitches were only to keep the flap closed like a band aid, because the doctor said it was healthier and more sanitary than a bandage would be. The flap was going to die and fall off, otherwise he'd have put way more stitches in it to have it heal well. His fingernail was bled during the clean-up process as well. I'll admit to allowing daddy to come sit with him somewhere between the pain meds being doled out and the actual cleaning up started happening. I just don't have the stomach for injuries the way I used to. I can take a fair amount of pain myself, but seeing my kids in pain is a completely different matter altogether. And yet, that boy didn't shed a tear. He's a tough one, and it hurt like a broken finger does.

What happened? Oh, that. A dump truck tail gate slammed down on it. Yes, it does sound rather painful, doesn't it? That boy of mine takes pain like a grown man. Or a woman in labor.

So pretty much Josh spent the rest of the day with his bandaged finger held up in the air, zoning out on pain meds. And that's the reason he still doesn't have his driving permit yet. This will definitely be a birthday he'll remember. I mean, who else gets Vicodin as a birthday gift?

1 comment:

Cindy said...

Ouch! I winced when I read that. Well, the worst is over, right? Happy Birthday Josh!