Order of play was:
8.43am Drop B at school (almost late as usual, this time due to forgetting about extra time to scrape the frost off the car)
8.55am Head straight to my volunteering stint at a local Community Health project, setting up for the Messy Play group.
9.45am-11am Make playdough, blow bubbles, and generally mess about with the kids. Great fun, but extremely exhausting!
11am-12.15pm Clean up! (it got particularly messy this week, with a very full house!)
12.15pm Drive straight to work (mondays not a work day normally) for an extra hour haring around preparing for a big meeting (today).
1.45pm Skidaddle out of work not having done everything I needed to, have 5 minutes at home to go pee, make a sandwich, pick up B's scooter and head out to to get him from school at 2.30pm, sandwich necked on the 10 minute walk there.
So, 2.30pm arrives, and I feel my headless chicken/stress levels begin to decrease as B's cheeky face appears out of school. We pop in to a friend's house on the way home, B having some play time and me some grown-up chat and a nice cuppa. Sigh. All good...
Then Manic Monday returns with a vengeance.
Oh yes, all is well (as well as it can be in a house with four school friends running about on a post-school high) until we hear a very strange and disturbing groaning sound coming from one of the kids, who it turns out to be B. He is hobbling into the living room, barely able to breathe bar this weird groaning. He then says he can't stand up properly and feels sick, as I watch the colour drain from his face (and he's a wee peelly-wally** like me at the best of times...).
He has apparently slipped on the stairs and fallen back, smacking the top of his back on the edge of the stairs.
The continual groaning and tingling in his arms and legs now has me really freaked out, I phone the gp and they advise me to take him to A&E. So I lift him into the car, plastic bag to hand in case he barfs, and we leg it to the hospital.
I'm vaguely aware when I put money in the parking meter near the hospital that the ticket is reading the wrong date and time and I silently dare any parking attendant to give me a parking fine.
I carry B into A&E and we sit and wait. Slowly, the colour returns to his face, and he can stand up by the time the triage nurse sees us.
When we're seen by the doctor an hour later, B is definitely on the mend, but the doctor assures me that I did the right thing bringing him in given it was an injury to his back. B actually seems to enjoy the funny bending and stretching exercises the Doc gets him to do, to check movement, etc.
And as for what the reflex hammer thingy does, "it's like magic!"
Assured there is no significant damage to his back bar some bruising, we take our tired and hungry selves home, by this time well past bath time. B's appetite not diminished (a good sign!) he scoffs some home-made quicky macaroni, a quick face-wash and into bed. I didn't last too much longer and followed suit.
No more Manic Mondays, please. My friend also reminded me it was a full moon last night too...
* I will feel really old if you don't know Manic Monday by The Bangles...
** a good ol' Scottish phrase meaning pale.
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