I Believe in Yesterday

As I lounge in the recliner still sort of exhausted, I’ve got the ol’ Beatles tune running through my head. How’d I get so tired, I keep wondering. Yesterday.

We woke up with plans to go swim, go to yoga, eat lunch, go by the shop, and get a haircut. Simple enough. We’d be home by nap time and all would be right with the world.

Instead, we woke up, and Baby Gray was still favoring his arm after a fall in the foam pit at gymnastics Wednesday. I called the doctor’s office, and they could get us in in about the amount of time it would take us to drive over. Off we went!

They felt it was best to get some x-rays, so we headed over to the radiology office. There was quite a wait, so we played some games in the lobby and read books until they could get us back. The x-rays were an ordeal in and of themselves. We survived, though.

XRay

We had some time to kill while we waited on the readings from the x-rays, so we actually accomplished the lunch and work portion of our original plan. Hooray, progress!

About the time we wrapped that up, we got word from the doctor that we needed to go to an orthopedic specialist to have the arm taken care of; he had a non-displaced fracture in his arm. We headed to Austin just in time to make the appointment and skirt most of the traffic. Baby Gray was met with Legos, train tables, blocks, busy beads, and all sorts of fun when we walked in the new office. It was just the pick-me-up he needed to finish the day.

A couple of nurses, nurse practitioners, and doctors later, and we had a sling and were out the door. After a very exhausting day (for both of us) we were finally headed home. 

Checking out
All Fixed Up

He was greeted at the door with a SparkBox (use GRAY to save on yours), which made his day!

SparkBox

Thank goodness Annie brought us supper. Otherwise, I think we would have just done without and gone straight to bed.

Yesterday.

 

4 Comments

Leave a Reply to Aimee Fauci Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.