Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow....

Middle Daughter is indeed broken. She is now sporting a fantastically blue cast on her wrist which will stay there for the next three weeks until our next appointment. They will x-ray her again and put another cast on for probably 3 months and then a splint for some time afterward. She's 50/50 on needing surgery right now, too. It's kind of a "wait on see" on the healing process. This bone has a backwards blood supply and doesn't heal as well as others. Her thumb and wrist are completely immobilized and despite every effort, she is physically unable to play any of her four instruments for the next several months. We're going to see if we can transfer her out of band into the Swing Choir. This is a tough break (pun intended) for Middle Daughter The Musician. I told her "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger". She looked at me and said "Sure, Mom". She wasn't convinced.

I can understand her concern about taking advice from me yesterday. I have a horrific phobia to cotton balls. I think the word phobia derives from Greek for "you are being absolutely ridiculous", but anyone who has a phobia and a resulting panic attack knows how powerful they actually are. Yesterday, we went to the orthopedic surgeon's office. This practice is huge and the waiting room is probably the size of my entire house. The weather outside may be beautiful for this time of year, but the weather inside the waiting room was nothing short of frightful. The ENTIRE waiting room had been completely decorated in a "snow scene" made of....yes, you guessed it....cotton balls! Oh... my... God!

Ok, so when I opened the door, I freaked a little (a lot) and had to go outside to complete the paperwork, breathe and take a double dose of Xanax. Five years ago I went through exposure therapy for my fear of cotton balls after I couldn't enter my kids' school for Parent Teacher Conferences. The kids had done an art project making Eskimos and igloos out of cotton balls and they were proudly displayed up and down the entire hallway. I saw them, screamed and ran and decided that I could no longer go through life avoiding them. This is good because if I hadn't, I can guarantee you Middle Daughter would not have been able to go to the doctor yesterday.

Once the Xanax kicked in, I explained my insanity to the receptionist and she said they would take us into a room right away. I guess at this office "right away" means an hour and fifteen minutes. I kept my eyes closed but, of course, I knew the cotton balls were there. By the time we got in the room, I probably looked psychotic because even the orthopedic surgeon asked me if I was ok. No, I was not.

Once we got home, Middle Daughter tried frantically to play her instruments with her new cast and I tried my best not to be frantic. Needless to say, it was a long day.