the rocking chair.
July 6, 2009
It seemed like an ordinary rocking chair.
My mother brought it over one day in the fall of 2004. She had bought it as a gift for my wife, so that she would have a place to sit while feeding and caring for our newborn triplets.
The rocking chair was made out of solid maple, with a very nice finish, and it was very sturdy. It has not squeaked to this day, and it does not wobble.
I grew to like the rocking chair very much, because it seemed like no one else wanted to sit in it, unless it was very late at night and one of the babies wouldn’t sleep.
So in many ways, it became my thinking chair.
The rocking chair led a rather ordinary life, until one Saturday night in October of 2005.
It started out like any other Saturday night at our house. We had spent the day together as a family, laughing and playing and eating and talking.
The triplets were now almost 18 months old, and they could all walk very well. They liked to play with their big brother Cameron, and teased him constantly.
Cameron was sitting in the rocking chair, in his pyjamas, and Aimee was teasing him, rocking him back and forth.
We had given the children a bath, and we were relaxing with them prior to putting them to bed.
Unfortunately, we did not notice that Cameron had slipped his arm between the rungs of the chair back as he played with Aimee.
I went to the kitchen to fetch a cup of coffee, and as I was returning, I heard Cameron cry out.
“Mommy mommy mommy my arm my arm!!!”
He was laying on the floor, clutching at his right arm, his face twisted in pain. Aimee looked very upset, as she had not meant to hurt her brother.
I looked down at his elbow, at the impossible angle, and almost dropped my coffee.
I blurted out some random expletive, as people tend to do in those situations, and Cathryn scooped him up off the floor.
We asked Cameron if he could move his arm, and between the tears, he said that he could not. As we examined his elbow, the purple colour made it clear that this could not be fixed with love and an icepack.
Just then, we heard Aimee cry out from the kitchen. I jumped up, and when I rounded the corner, I saw that her mouth was full of blood.
It appeared to me that she had pushed one of the kitchen chairs over to the medicine cupboard, and in trying to retrieve some medicine for her brother, she had slipped from the chair and hit her mouth.
(She loves him very much, even though at times now you would not know it! She was just trying to help.)
Another expletive… and then I cleaned her up, and hugged her.
In the mean time, my wife had prepared Cameron for a trip to the emergency room at our local hospital.
The triplets and I waved goodbye through the front window and sat down to wait until they returned.
About twenty minutes later, Aimee came over to me and said, “Look daddy”, and pulled out her front tooth.
I just about had a heart attack. Then I had a shot of scotch.
She would not let me put the tooth back in, as it was too painful, so I put it in a cup of milk in the refrigerator, and contacted the hospital. They said that (of course) there was nothing they could do. As it was Saturday night and there was no emergency dental service available until Monday, I knew that she would lose the tooth.
Not long after that, the telephone rang – it was Cathryn.
She said that the doctors could not do anything for Cameron’s arm here, and they suggested that we *drive* him to the Children’s Hospital in the city.
Two hours away.
No ambulance.
As soon as I was off the phone, I called my parents, and asked my mother if she could come and look after the triplets while we took Cameron to the hospital in the city. Luckily for us, my parents live about ten minutes away, and they were able to help.
By the time we set off for the city, it was about 9:30 at night, pitch black. The trip that normally takes about two hours took us 90 minutes that night.
But it would be a long night, as the emergency room at the Children’s Hospital was backed up.
The reception nurse was horrified that the doctors at our shade-tree hospital had not immobilized Cameron’s arm at all, not even a simple sling. I had not bothered to look under his blanket, as he was strapped into his car seat and covered up when Cathryn picked me up.
The city hospital ultimately filed a complaint with our local hospital.
After we were processed, we were sent to a waiting area, where we waited – and waited – and waited.
Around 1:00 am, a specialist came to see us, and told us that Cameron would be going into surgery to repair his elbow that night, as it was badly broken in several places. Luckily for him, he was left-handed, as he would be wearing a cast from his wrist to his bicep for some time.
The doctor explained to Cameron that he would fix his arm, that it would not hurt at all, and that once the cast came off, there would be a small scar on his elbow, but that was okay because “chicks dig scars”. Cameron thought that was very funny!
Our son went into surgery shortly after 2:00 am, and by 4:00 am he was in recovery. Cathryn and I slept beside him in chairs, if you could call what we had that night sleep.
We telephoned my mother around 8:00 am to let her know that we would be on the way shortly, and we checked out of the hospital.
Cameron did not trust the rocking chair for a long, long time after that.
Oh Brett,
Bad bad rocking chair!
I have a treadmill story that would curl your hair…I’ll do you a favor and not share it wilth you. Just know that I understand. Boy…do I understand.
Wendi Kelly’s last blog post..Beware the Drift
I nearly blinded my little brother with a walkie talkie antenna. I broke my older brother’s wrist in a door. I managed to escape unscathed from my childhood, but not for lack of trying by my brothers and father. I’m too fast and too smart…and too evil.
All I have to say is, “Way to go Amiee! Take out your older brother then smash your face to get sympathy and distract everyone from your true crime.
The force is strong in that one.
Eyeteaguy
Eyeteaguy’s last blog post..Eyeteaguy’s 10 rules to life.
Am I the only one reading this who was horrified at a) the lack of an emergency dental care option and b) the incompetence of the local emergency room?
Betsy Wuebker’s last blog post..THE FLAME OF LIBERTY STILL BURNS
Brett,
Is it still Daddy’s Thinking Chair, or does Daddy not trust the bad chair, either?
I got chills reading this. Repeatedly. I hate to hear about little people in pain, and I can only imagine how terrible it was for Mommy and Daddy. Luckily Aimee won’t remember a thing… except what everyone reminds her.
Very glad it all ended well. Very.
My big childhood guilt-trip… my little sis, my mother and I pile into the station wagon through the driver’s door, drive a few miles toward school (remember when cars didn’t have seat belts and riding in the front was the cool thing to fight over?), we take a swinging left over the train tracks—and the passenger door my little limbs hadn’t closed tightly enough the night before opens, and my sister goes tumbling out onto the tracks. Luckily Mom stopped instantly, and my sis had nothing more than scrapes and bruises and a trip to the ER to check her out.
My mother swears it wasn’t me who closed the door, but I’m sure. And I felt guilty for… well, let’s see, how old am I now?
Little sis was over it in a day or two. Ain’t that the way?
Regards,
Kelly
Kelly’s last blog post..How NOT to Woo the Customer
Hmph. No sling or immobilization for his arm, eh?
Welcome to the Splat Creek Emergency Hospital.
Friar’s last blog post..Science that I’m Ungrateful For
Poor Cameron! That is definitely a way to get your children to avoid playing on furniture! A painful way, but I bet he has thought twice about playing on the furniture ever since. I’m sure it was pretty scary for him as well as you and your wife. That is one thing I worry about when I have my own children, you can’t protect them 24/7.
Jenny’s last blog post..Still No Title…But Here’s More!
@Wendi,
Yes, the rocking chair got a stern talking to that night and we sent him to his room…
Ouch – I can come up with any number of images in my head involving a treadmill. Hopefully those involved came away fully intact and without too many friction burns…
@Eyeteaguy,
That does not surprise me. Not at all. Since you shot me in the throat
but then again I did shoot you in the butt. You evil bugger… heh heh heh
Aimee is tougher than anyone knows. A few months before that, she had a hair wrap around one of her toes (it was in her sleeper) and by the time we noticed, her toe was quite purple. She hardly cried at all.
The local shamans could not get the hair loose (the tweezers they had were too wide – I offered to go home and get a very thin set, but they said no).
Instead they sent us to the big city two hours away… where the doctors used a set of thin tweezers much like the ones I had at home to remove the hair.
*sigh*
@Betsy,
Yes, we have “the best that the Canadian health care system can offer” here.
It was the same hospital that misdiagnosed my wife when she was going into labour with Cameron and his sister Hailey. They insisted that the amniotic fluid was urine. As that was our first pregnancy, we did not know.
I’ve always wondered if we had lived in the city whether the hospitals might have been able to save Hailey.
@Kelly,
The chair fears me, as I have told it a few times that it is a short distance from the living room to the outdoor fireplace
I do still sit in the chair to think, as I quite like it. There is an added bonus – it has absolutely no padding, so no one else likes it, and it is always vacant.
Whoa! Your story, now that was frightening. Very lucky that it turned out okay.
It’s a wonder we make it to adulthood, if you think of it.
@Friar,
Oh yes, the Morgoth Science Hospital. The one where, when I went in with pneumonia in January, the doctor on call seemed very annoyed with me, and asked me what I wanted her to do.
And when I said, “You’re a doctor, make me better”, she made fun of me and said, “I can’t just wave my magic wand!”
Umm, no, but you could give me medicine, you know, like doctors do everywhere else.
@Jenny,
Strangely enough, he’s still quite fearless – which is good, I think.
I figure that with four kids, the odds are we’ll have a few more broken bones yet.
It was a scary night, for sure. And it is true – we are always on guard. We could worry 24/7 about them and it could eat us up completely.
If we can get them to adulthood with all limbs intact, I figure we’ve done a good job!
Okay…I had to google Morgoth.
Heh heh.
Good one.
Here’s a link, for anyone who wants to know..
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morgoth
Friar’s last blog post..Self-Improvement Tips, in Two Steps or Less
Terrible accident, but it seems like your son handled it well. The doctor at the second hospital seemed like he had a good bedside manner as well.
On another note, I would have been afraid to use the rocking chair too.
Bakari’s last blog post..How Navy Seals Increased Passing Rates and My Random Army Experience
We spent hours driving to big cities for medical care with unknown doctors for our youngest – we might have had to fly to St. Louis for one surgery as Seattle and Portland were all backed up….small town hospitals are iffy at best and don’t seem to get the folks with great abilities either….finally since we were paying full price we just got our beloved surgeon to do the surgeries in his Plastic Surgery Office…what a difference – never too much anesthesia…no screaming crying toddler…we could hire home care nursing so we could sleep and get some work done..and it was far less expensive…
My oldest had to go to San Francisco to get proper treatment from the plague of kidney stones…
Although she got great care in Vancouver BC….
A friend in Finland made me two rocking chairs for each of my pregnancies – I love them still…
Good story…nice in the telling…
Patricia’s last blog post..A Birthday Ritual
@Friar,
Morgoth is *awesome*, isn’t he!
@Bakari,
Thank you for stopping in to say hello! Yes, the doctor at the city hospital was very good, and he was also the one who handled the follow-up visits.
The rocking chair respects me – I am sitting in it right now, actually!
@Patricia,
Wow, it sounds like you’ve had many of the same experiences with small towns, but the addition of having to pay for it would make it worse indeed. I know the staff really try at the little hospitals, but it often doesn’t work the same way – how can they compete with the big hospitals?
It sounds like you have two very nice treasures in those chairs. And thank you for your words.
I can’t live without a rocking chair. I grew up with one and was totally distressed to find out it wouldn’t – couldn’t – be passed down to me because it actually belonged to someone else and my parents returned it after something like twenty years, when they moved to Malta. It was a very dark chair, with lots of intricate carving, which my fingers can still remember from having traced over them so often, and I have no idea what kind of wood. The rounded arms were worn smooth and shiny. I still miss that chair.
Now I have a glider that was given me when we got married. Mom’s convinced I love rocking chairs because she used to rock me when she was pregnant and when nursing or trying to put me to sleep. If we’re ever at someone’s house and they have a rocking chair, I’m always the one to claim it for the time I’m there!
@steph,
It sounds to me like your chair is a place of power for you – may you find what you seek in that chair. I’m speaking to your latest blog post here – sit in that chair, give the best part of your day to yourself, and I think you will find what you seek.
@Brett…
Hmmm that chair story got me thinking! I can just see it now, with apologies to Monty Python:
Cameron: (enter yelling) A chair! A chair! We’ve found a chair! Burn it! Burn it!
Brett: There are ways of telling if it’s a chair. What do you do with chairs?
Cameron: Burn them!
Brett: And what do you burn, apart from chairs?
Cameron: Wood?
Brett: Right! So why do chairs burn?
Cameron: Because they’re made of wood?
Brett: Right! . Now, what else do you do with wood?
Cameron: Build bridges with it!
Brett: But do we not also build bridges from stone; does wood float in water?
Cameron: Yes.
Brett: And what else floats in water?
Cathy: A duck!
Brett: Right! So, if the chair weighs the same as a duck, it would float in water, and it must be made of wood, so….
(So Cameron weighs the chair on a large scale with a duck in the other balancing basket….the scales do not tilt one way or the other)
Cameron: A chair! Burn it!
HEHEH…I couldn’t resist!
Cheers!
Glenn
@Glenn,
Best. Laugh. Evar.
Hey man, thanks for the memories. We had one like that with our youngest Emmy. But I’m ashamed to say that we first put here to bed because we thought her to be crying wolf. Em fell while walking around the top of an above ground pull and needed elbow surgery as well.
Thank God for scotch and expletives. I’m sure your a bang up dad.
Tom Volkar / Delightful Work’s last blog post..Celebrate Your Strangeness
@Tom,
Thanks for stopping in to say hi! Hey, we’ve done that before too, you think one of them is just playing you for the fool but they’re not
Here’s to scotch and expletives! I’ll bet you’re a heck of a dad too…