Tragic Sandwich

Tag: cast

  • How Was Your Weekend?

    Ours started a day early, kind of. On Friday, Baguette’s cast came off (huzzah!). What was her response to this development?

    Sock all gone. I got a foot!

    At the moment she walks with that foot turned out, and she still has a bit of a peg-leg pirate walk, but she’s rapidly getting back to her normal gait–and activity.

    Since she’s Baguette, that activity includes not sleeping. We were up at midnight, driving around Los Angeles and environs at midnight. (You think I’m kidding? I’m not. We’re talking at least 20 miles of driving, and not all of it in town.)

    Since we’re the Sandwiches, Saturday did not mean sleeping in early. Quite the opposite: we got up at 3:30, because Mr. Sandwich was entered in the Nautica Malibu Triathlon. He did quite well, finishing in the top 1/3 of his age division, and Baguette got to spend the morning on the beach. Let me tell you, this is one fearless toddler. And that means that when you’re her parent, and she won’t stop rushing toward the waves, you are definitely not fearless.

    An early morning and extensive beach time did not mean that she had a good nap. No, she slept for about 30 minutes and then was awake for the entire afternoon.

    Awake and tantrum-y.

    But eventually even her strength of will could not overcome her exhaustion, and at 6:30 p.m. (6:30!)she passed out on my lap. We carefully moved her into the bed and settled in for a night of streaming video. That’s right, it was Date Night, Sandwich Edition. What did we watch? Captain America, of course (Avengers not being available yet, and both of us feeling that Thor would be ruined–ruined, I tell you!–by the presence of Natalie Portman). Now, Cap has never been my favorite superhero, and I had some issues with the movie–but it was fun, and we really enjoyed the chance to curl up on the couch and watch something of our own choosing while endlessly petting the dog’s stomach (Wicket is indifferent to TV as long as she is getting petted).

    We made it to bed at about 11, which meant that when Baguette woke up at 3:30, I really, really hoped we’d be able to get her back to sleep. We couldn’t. But that’s okay, because we would have been getting up too soon anyhow: shortly after 5, I left for the ER, where it was determined that yes, I had another kidney stone.

    Some Dilaudid and several hours of fitful sleep later, Mr. Sandwich and Baguette arrived to pick me up. We went out for breakfast and picked up some groceries, and then went home so that Baguette and I could nap. Which we both did, successfully. Our evening was low-key, and we made it to bed at about 9. Everyone slept through the night, and Baguette woke up on her own at 6, which (combined with the night before) tells me that, barring teething or broken legs, her tendency is to sleep for 9 hours at night.

    Meanwhile, I’m still tired. You?

    Captain America Shield

    Photo by abuckingham, via Flickr.

  • Baby’s First Cast

    This morning, Baguette could stand briefly, but still wasn’t willing to take a step. So our pediatrician said that he wanted us to take her to an orthopedist. The only catch was that he didn’t think that we’d get in to see someone within our network on the afternoon of a Friday before a 3-day weekend. He therefore provided a referral to “the only guy in West L.A. you’ll be able to see today–but he doesn’t take your insurance.”

    Another exam, more xrays, and $315 later, and what did we learn?

    Baguette has a hairline fracture in her left tibia.

    She also starts swim lessons tomorrow. Fortunately, this cast can go in the water. And next week she can go to day care. And the week after that, the cast will come off.

    I’ll tell you what–I’m glad we went to the out-of-network guy. I’m glad we didn’t say, “Well, let’s see how she does over the weekend.” Because if we’d gone to someone else on Tuesday or Wednesday and then discovered that we’d left a broken bone untreated for a week? I can’t imagine. But it wouldn’t feel good.

  • Best-Laid Plans

    So here’s the schedule: arrive at the surgical center at noon. Surgery at 1:15, lasting about 90 minutes. Recovery time, etc., figure we’ll be home late afternoon.

    Here’s what happened:

    12:00 Arrive at surgical center. Told the doctor is running about 30 minutes behind.

    12:45 Told the doctor is running an hour behind.

    1:30 Mr. Sandwich is taken back to prep for his surgery. I go to move the car.

    1:40 I return to the waiting room to find Mr. Sandwich, who has been sent back due to the delay.

    2:00 Mr. Sandwich is taken back again.

    3:25 The doctor comes out to tell me that he will start in about 5 minutes. (I immediately–and, as it turns out, correctly–surmise that Mr. Sandwich has sent him.)

    4:10 I tell the only remaining member of the office staff that I, the only remaining person in the waiting room, am about to cross the street so that I can buy another book at Barnes & Noble.

    4:30 I return to find myself locked out of the waiting room. Eventually, someone lets me back in.

    5:55 A nurse tells me that Mr. Sandwich’s surgery is almost done, and he should be going to recovery soon.

    6:30 The doctor comes out and tells me about how the surgery went (generally well) and what Mr. Sandwich will need to do–and not do–over the next 10 days as he recovers. I know that none of this news is going to make Mr. Sandwich happy.

    6:45 A nurse comes to get me so that I can sit with Mr. Sandwich as he is in recovery.

    8:00 We finally leave.

    Of course, then I had to get him settled at home, call family members, figure out what each of us was going to eat (I’d had lunch before we left, but he’d had nothing since the previous midnight), and go back out to get his prescriptions filled. So it wound up being a very long day, which started with Mr. Sandwich in a dressing and bandage that covered his finger, and ended with him in a cast from above his elbow to beyond his fingertips. He’s got a sling for when he’s walking around, and he’s supposed to keep it elevated as much as possible.