It's A Miracle!

Second Grader hobbled her way into the doctor's office yesterday to have that bum ankle of hers inspected.

Truthfully, the ankle thing began five weeks ago with a misstep at gymnastics practice. The school nurse and I found ourselves winding ace bandages around her teeny little ankle for the next week, neither of us seeing any real cause for concern. At any rate, she managed to "heal" well enough to abandon her trusty ace bandage just in time for the big departure with dad. I heard nary a word about it on any of our phone calls during those three weeks apart.

Her injury rematerialized, however, during the four hour layover coming home.

"Mommyyy?" the shaky voice said. "Can you please get me a new wrap for my aaaankle?"

So, after the 2:30 a.m. airport pickup, we stopped at CVS ("open 24 hours!") for an ankle support.

While she insisted on going to acting camp (yes, I'm serious) the next day, with only four hours of sleep, she came home that night in tears. "My aaankle," she moaned.

There were ice packs. There were pillows for propping. There was much hobbling to get around. Tuesday was more of the same.

Naturally, now I realize that I am Neglectful Mom, and feel shame for pish-poshing this serious injury so many weeks earlier. Now she's probably damaged for life. I took little comfort in having scheduled her for an x-ray by then, given I had already ruined her chances of ever getting a sports scholarship of any kind.

So yesterday at noon we enter the doctor's office, Second Grader in full hobble. Doctor examines her ankle, pressing here and there, asking Second Grader if it hurts. Oh, the sighs of pain! She is almost in tears. Doctor, perplexed, sends us next door for x-rays.

Half an hour later, Doctor reads images in our presence. "Everything looks fine. No fractures."

What to do?

Doctor leaves room and returns with an air cast. This is basically a miniature brace with puffy air pockets for lining. Doctor takes away Second Grader's flesh-colored CVS ankle support and installs air cast.

Second Grader cannot fit her shoe over air cast. Doctor then tells her she should not dance or otherwise overuse her ankle for a few more weeks.

Guess where that air cast is? I'll tell you where it is. It's on the floor of my car, where she discarded it as soon as we left the doctor's office. Second Grader, two-shoed, shows no further sign of injury. Imagine that!

Acting camp? Money well spent.