Just one hour later, we were on our way to A&E, first in Lydney, then in Gloucester with a seriously injured boy in the front of our Polo (now known as the Polombulance). He fell out of a tree on the play area. In the absence of play equipent to climb, the boys and girls of Oakdale have being gradually getting more and more proficient in climbing trees, making tree houses and creating imaginary houses out of rubble from the unfenced pile left after the old cottage was demolished. Our little boy is one of the youngest, so wants to keep up and, buoyed up by his recent achievements, climbed higher than before, though only metre and a half off the ground.
I didn't recognise his screaming and was round the back of our house, but when I walked round, he was in his dad's arms. I cut the sleeve of his fleece, took one look at his arm and yelled for his dad to get the car keys.
He spent all night with an unset arm in a very noisy Paediatric Assessment Unit then had an operation first thing in the morning after enough time had lapsed since he had eaten. They debated operating at 1am, but this is the most dangerous time of day for little ones, apparently. An unkind nursing assistant, who had also yanked his broken arm around unnecessarily in the night, threatened to cut off his Mike the Knight T shirt if he didn't let her put a gown on him. I did it on my own in the end, without cutting it. A little bit of patience would have saved more distress.
One thing, at least, we can do. We contacted friends in churches up and down the country by text the next day (and if they hadn't turned their phones off, interupted 3 or 4 services - sorry!). Immediate access to prayers from true friends is so comforting. We knew that Heaven was being beseiged with pleas to the Father to take care of our son.
For some reason, when we tell people what happened, the most common reaction is to laugh. They wouldn't if they had heard him scream. Someone today told him that they had broken their arm when they were small and had never been able to straighten it since. I feel powerless in such situations. It's no use being angry because it's too late, the words are already out there and causing damage. We had screaming fits later in the day, when some of his bottled up pain and fear was released. I guess there's more of that to come.
Anyway, the first part of the week was lots of rest and maximum painkillers, but I'm glad to say that now he is playing, eating, sleeping and giggling again. Just, if you see a little boy with his arm in a sling around the place, don't ask. Just don't. Ask him how the drumming is going instead. The day we brought him home, he got his dad to play the left hand drumstick and me to play the tin whistle and then bashed his drum kit for all he was worth.
In between, while he was sleeping this week, I found out about the proposal to delay the bus link to Lydney, hence the campaign begun on the front page.
We were quite glad it's a bank holiday.
Please write to the council.
“So do not be afraid of them, for there is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the roofs. Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul....Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground outside your Father’s care. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." Matt 10: 26-31