Last Sunday, we invited our friends Maria and Denis over for dinner. Their son, Juan Pablo, is one of Dylan’s best friends, and the two of them had a grand old time running around all over the place and jumping for hours on end on the bounce house we set up on the backyard.
Every once in a while, as so often happens with kids (boys especially, I think), one or the other would come up to us crying, saying he hurt himself here or there. After getting a kiss and a rub on the affected area from one of his parents, he would then scamper off to the bounce house again. They had a great time playing together, and when our friends left, Dylan walked up the stairs to his room by himself and was out like a light for the rest of the night.
The next morning, Bill left at the crack of dawn for an out-of-town business trip. Our nephews, Justin and Jack, were staying with us for a few days while their parents are on vacation, so I had to get up early and wake all the boys up to take the older ones to their bus stop before school. I went first to Dylan’s room and called out his name, but he didn’t stir, so I woke up his cousins first and then headed back to his room.
This time, he woke up at the sound of his name, but didn’t want to get out of bed. When I went to pick him up, he started screeching, a low, pain-filled wail that I’d never heard from him before.
Alarmed, I sat down on his bed and stood him up in front of me, asking him if he was all right. He clutched his leg, on the hip/thigh area, and started saying “It hurts, it hurts!” I asked him if he could walk and he tried to take a step, then resumed his wailing again.
This was not good.
I tried scooping Dylan up in my arms, but he would not put his legs around my waist, so I carried him straight-legged to the downstairs couch. When I went to sit him down on the couch, he started screeching again, so I laid him down flat. He would not move.
This was really, REALLY not good.
A thousand scenarios ran through my head as to what could be wrong with Dylan, but all I could come up with was that he must have injured himself in the bounce house the night before. Maybe he had torn a muscle on his leg. Maybe he had injured his groin. Maybe he had fractured his leg. Maybe he had dislocated his hip…
One thing was certain: I had to get him to a doctor. However, if he couldn’t sit on the couch, there was no way that he’d be able to sit on a car seat. I informed Justin and Jack that they would have to ride their bikes to the bus stop, and as soon as they were gone, I dialed 911 and asked for an ambulance to take us to the hospital…
(Continues next week)