So the displaced bone had to be pushed back into place. And the doctor had asked Joel if he wanted them to do it quick, or give him an IV.
"What's an IV?" Joel asked.
The nurse explained that it was a way to give him medicine. I asked the doctor which he recommended. In fact, I wasn't even sure I understood the question. Why on earth would you want to go through that without being sedated? Or at least relaxed a little?!
The doctor shrugged. "Most adults opt for the IV, but sometimes kids are more afraid of the needle."
Fear of needles Joel understood. He looked worried, but the nurse quickly assured him it was a tiny needle and he'd only feel it for a moment. He weighed that fear against the thought of anyone touching his throbbing arm.
"I'll take the--what did you call it?"
"Yeah. I'll take that."
I breathed a sigh of relief. That's what I was going to choose, but I was glad I'm not the one who had to tell them to use a needle on my son!
They put a temporary cast on the left arm and then wheeled him into another room to work on his right. I followed along and squeezed into a corner--it was a small room and there were two nurses and two doctors standing around his bed. They hooked him up to a monitor to check his heart, breathing and pulse while they worked. Joel simply laid there and stared at all the adults surround him. And he never stopped talking. The nurse prepared the anesthetic to pump into his IV, and his eyes grew huge at the sight of the very big needle. I assured him it would go into the thing they already put in his arm--no more sticking him. The doctor nodded to the nurse and she pushed the meds through his IV. Joel's eyes widened more and he talked faster.
While we waited for the medicine to take affect, the doctor stepped toward me and spoke quietly. He explained that Joel would have a "reaction" when they pushed his bone back in place, but because of the anesthetic he wouldn't remember what he'd been through.
But I would. I wondered if I could have something to relax me as well.
By now Joel should have been calmer, but instead he was talking loud and fast. The doctor finally told the nurse to push additional medication. Joel's eyes glazed.
"Am I supposed to go to sleep now?"
"You can if you want to," the nurse answered.
His eyes closed for two seconds before popping back open. "Why is everyone staring at me?"
As they all laughed, the second doctor asked, "What did you give him? Two of those would put me under the table."
Joel ended up having a third dose before he was relaxed enough for what they had to do. The doctor motioned for one of the nurses to hold down Joel's upper arm while he began manipulating the wrist. As soon as he began, Joel's head raised up and he stared at the doctor in horror, clearly wondering why the doctor would hurt him like this. I stepped forward and grabbed his feet, the only part of him I could get near.
"Look at me, Joel."
He didn't seem to hear me as he moaned and whimpered.
"He won't remember what he's been through," the nurse assured me.
He may not remember it later, but he was in pain now. And I'm his Mom. It's my job to fix it. Or at least comfort him.
When they finally finished, Joel sank back into the pillow while they put a temporary cast on the arm. The second doctor, who hadn't moved from the corner where he was standing the whole time, said, "If you don't need me anymore, I'm going now."
I'm assuming he was there in case of complications or a reaction to the medicine. At any rate, I did wonder how big a bill we would get for the privilege of having him stand in the room.
The medical staff did a final check on him and then slipped from the room one by one. I stepped up next to his bed and began singing the dwarf song again as Joel gave me a groggy smile. Then he raised his arm with the bulky white cast extending up past his elbow.
"When did they put this on me?" He asked.