Savage

Tyson loves soccer.  Probably more than food sometimes.  He asked us almost weekly, if not more, when the soccer season would begin not two seconds after the whistle blew ending his last game from the season last year.  He just loves soccer.

We signed him up for a more competitive soccer league this year, wanting him to get more coaching.  I've been happy with it thus far.  He practices an hour and a half on Monday's and Wednesday's, with an hour practice for Keeper Training on Thursday's.  Because the season's first game is scheduled for tomorrow, Coach scheduled an additional practice for yesterday.  I arrived a few minutes before the end of practice, maybe five minutes or so, and watched as they played.  Tyson was in a yellow jersey, with everyone else either red or green, so I knew he'd acted as the Keeper for a little bit.  As he ran around with the other boys, I noticed him holding his right wrist, but didn't think anything about it other than he must have to go to the bathroom.

Coach called the end of practice, and I watched as they put their hands into a circle to call out the end of practice with a cheer.  Tyson put his right hand in, pulled it back, turned slightly, and put his left hand in.  Again, I didn't think too much of it.  I watched him load his soccer bag with his gear, kind of confused as to why he was taking so long and why he wasn't using both hands to hurry things along.  As he turned to me and started walking down the hill to the car, his face crumbled.  I was worried that something had happened at practice that had hurt his feelings, but instead found out that something at practice had hurt his arm.

Seated in the car, keeping his arm close to his abdomen, Tyson reached with his left hand across his body to grab the seatbelt, hold it with his chin, and grab for more belt with his left to snap it in.  He was not using that right arm, and was crying to tell me what had happened.  Having watched him out there running around just minutes before, I was so confused watching him.  My help was delayed as my mind grappled to understand that he wasn't faking it.

"We put the goals closer together to play a scrimmage game.  One of the boys drop-kicked the ball into the goal.  I jumped up and reached to stop the ball, but it hit me so, so fast and really hurt.  Because of the pain, I dropped down to the ground.  I had to pick up my right arm with my left arm, but it wouldn't stay up.  It just hurt so much.  Coach had me do some stuff and said it looked like it would bruise, so I need to ice it for fifteen minutes, give it a break for ten minutes, and then ice it again for fifteen minutes.  But, Mom, it just hurts so bad."

Tyson is not one to cry often.  He's taken some hard lumps and just walked away, so I knew something was really wrong.  I called Randy, telling him that Tyson could potentially have a broken arm.  It wasn't as obvious as Caden's had been, but the way he was holding it to himself and telling me about it seemed a bit worrisome.  At some angles it looked weird, and others it looked fine.  It wasn't swelling a bunch, but he couldn't move it certain ways without calling out.  Because it was so late, the only option we had was to go to the ER.  Since it wasn't super obvious, and because we knew it could wait a bit even if it was broken, we decided to wait to take him to the Urgent Care first thing this morning.  We filled him with Ibuprofen and sent him to bed, wondering if he would sleep through the night.

He did, and woke being able to use it, saying it didn't hurt too bad.  When we asked him to clamp his fist, move it, and do a few things, he seemed completely fine, if not a bit sore.  Hearing from his coach how fast that ball was coming at him, it wasn't too far out of the realm of possibility that it was just majorly bruised, even if it wasn't black and blue.  Randy asked him to bump it a little, but Tyson showed us just how much it felt better by hitting it much harder than I would have liked.  He said it hurt, but couldn't tell us whether it was because of the injury from last night, of from how hard he'd hit it just then.  We decided it must be bruised and sent him to school.

When he came home, I could tell something was wrong.  "Mom, it just kept getting worse and worse today.  My arm really hurts."  Randy loaded him in the car for the Urgent Care.  15 minutes later, I got these pictures.

Broken.  Remembering how Caden screamed out when he had his set (even if he was semi-unconscious and didn't remember a thing), I'm grateful the bone didn't separate!  He will now be in a brace for 3-4 weeks, and will not be able to play his first game of soccer of the season tomorrow morning.  Can you imagine how fast that ball was coming at him to break his arm in mid-air?!  His coach assured me that he would never have let him go back out and play if it would have hit him in the head, and wouldn't have had him go out there if he knew the extent of the injury or Tyson wouldn't have been adamant about wanting to play.  All I have to say is this: How savage is my little guy for wanting to go back out and play soccer when his arm was broken?!  He didn't want to play keeper again during the rest of the practice, with how much it hurt, but he didn't want to sit out either.  As soon as the adrenaline of the practice was over, the pain really set in good and hard, but he played through the pain while he was out on the field, even if he did have to hold it close to his body for protection.  I sure hope this thing heals quickly.  Tyson loves soccer.  It's as simple as that.