Quite out of character for me, I know, but I'm worried about boyness' leg. On Friday, I grabbed his shoulder to get his attention and he slipped into a near-splits. Ouch? Yeah, well, it hurt, it got a kiss blown in its general direction, he went about his merry way.
And on Saturday he woke up yelling about it hurting.
Screamed, SCREAMED I tell you, if I tried to straighten his leg. Hobbled about. We went to a friend's place and he *kept* hobbling. Hobbling on Sunday. Hobbling on Monday.
Did he BREAK it?
Fran asks him to support his weight on it, and straighten it out, and he *kind of* manages, but it hurts and he's not really straightening it out all the way. So long story short, I hate doctors (kinda), he seems more or less OK except for the limp, yada yada...4 days later, no real improvement. Now, when I was a kidness I remember getting these kinds of injuries relatively frequently (Fran said he can't remember this ever happening to him...but his mom didn't let him run *at the park*, what can I say?) but I can't remember how long they're supposed to last. The doctor-worshippers...I mean, in-laws...seem to think that he's going to keel over if I don't get him to a doctor ASAP. Like, OMG, what do you MEAN you haven't seen a doctor?!!!!
It quite frankly is driving me nuts because at this point, I *am* considering taking him to the doctor. And damnit! They'll act like "oh PHEW you took him to the DOCTOR!! Finally you grew some SENSE!!!"
See, this is why I want to live here, but with MY family around me. They're not doctor-worshipping paranoid lunatics who get tetanus shots every time they scrape a cuticle on the mailbox. Oh why, oh why, did I have to choose between my sane family and the PLACE I wanted to live?
Wow, that was a big wander. True though. I want my family back.