So this past week has been pretty tough. It definitely has gotten better since my last post though. Scott’s pain has subsided some and all he needs help with for himself is getting dressed and sometimes getting off the couch. He even did a little Wal-Mart shopping on his own yesterday. But he is unable to help out much with the kids. He can’t really pick them up and can’t change Lexi’s diaper. So although is presence is appreciated, I’m the one up every morning with them and providing most of their care. Usually when Scott was off at work, I usually got one morning where I could sleep instead of getting up and doing the breakfast thing. So it kind of stinks. But I know he really hates being in the situation he’s in so I’m not irritated at him in any way. Saturday I had to take him back to the dr because he was out of pain medication and they wouldn’t give him any more pills until he was seen again. That dr told him he was concerned there was a chip and he may have to have surgery to get it out. He didn’t refer him to anyone, but left it to the dr he was supposed to see yesterday. So I took him back again yesterday (and did I mention he can’t drive so I have to take everyone everywhere) and he got a referral to an orthopedic. But he did give him some new medicine that actually helped with the pain and didn’t make Scott drowsy, so that’s really good. And my understanding it is 4-6 weeks, not 6-8 weeks. So one down and hopefully 3 to go.
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This morning I woke up at 5:15am, rolled over and saw Scott standing beside our bed with a sling on his right arm. I jumped out of bed asking what had happened. He just said come on, corporal is in the living room. I followed him out still asking what had happened. I said a quick hello to corporal–and thank goodness I had my cute pj’s on, lol–and still asked Scott what was going on. He said they were at a road check and a guy bush bonded and he went after him. Apparently he slipped on some very wet asphalt (supposedly there was a sprinkler nearby), he fell putting 75% of his body weight on his shoulder where he landed. He broke his collarbone. The guy was caught and charged. Scott went to a local clinic, had x-rays and the bone is definitely split in 2 he said. Scott was getting whoosy from the pain shots he’d been given and was starting to mumble and not make much sense. Corporal and I looked at each other and were like, ok, time for you to go to bed. He didn’t protest too much but I did convince him to call his mom and dad. And I called my mom. I sort of wished he had called me on the way to the dr but he was right in the fact that I couldn’t have done anything except worry. It’s a good thing Corporal didn’t show up at my door. I might have fainted. I rarely, rarely and I mean rarely ever worry about Scott at work. Most people say if they were me, they’d worry all the time. I don’t know, something about knowing even if something happened, it happened doing what he loved makes it ok. And I know he has lots of angels around him. And God does give me that peace that lets me not be eat alive with worry. Part of me thought, oh, Emma and I didn’t pray for Daddy last night but I knew that God protected him from something even worse happening. What about a broken back or neck or even if the guy had a gun, he could have been shot. So today I’m thankful he’s at home with me and I’m being a very good nurse. I’m so proud of him. Today I kind of got a new perspective on police (firefighters, emt, etc). He chased after that guy and every time he goes out, he stops people and chases people all for the good of the people. So thanks to all our hard workers and my husband who take care of us all.