Our New Hero

I left you in my last post with a very sad 12-year-old. My heart ached for him. Losing 4 weeks of play would definately strip him of his position and plunge him into depression. The temporary splint was uncomfortable and way too easy to take off.

All day Sunday, I prayed hard for an answer, for mercy and for a miracle. My sweetie tried several different ways of making a splint, but nothing seemed to work that would give by boy the support he needed. I resigned myself to the urgent care doctor's suggestion that ultimately a hard cast was the answer. He said an orthopedic doc, but you know how long you have to wait for one of those with such an unremarkable break.

Then like a bolt of lightning it hit me, we had an ace in the hole. 

Even though our pediatrician's office didn't do x-rays, they did have Steve, an amazing nurse-practitioner who did casts. Steve was once a 12-year-old boy and he would understand.

First thing Monday morning and I was on the phone. Yes, Steve did casts, but he refused to do a "boxer's break." I assured him the bone hadn't moved and I had x-rays to prove it; finally, he agreed to take a look.

After we explained how the injury happened and our baseball dilemma, he wanted to help. He measured and stewed and worried. Then he set about making the perfect cast.

It is unlike any cast I have ever seen before. It potects his hand, yet keeps his thumb and first two fingers free, allowing him to squeeze his glove and grip a bat. Thank goodness his 1st baseman's glove is big enough to go over it. The cast goes barely above his wrist, just like a mitt. Perfect for baseball.

Meet our hero, Steve. Curly is only pretending to be sad, hamming it up for the pic. At that moment, we were believing we had actually been given our miracle.