The Day My 8-Year-Old May Have Broken My Nose.

{{Otherwise known as the day I may have had a mental breakdown}}

It was time to go to school and though transitions had been tough a couple of weeks ago, we had been doing great after adding in a mandatory swing session before heading out the door.

What was different this morning?  When Corbin was done using the plasma car he left it on the front porch rather than the back yard.  As Brian was heading out the door he decided that the thing that REALLY needed to happen before heading to school was that he needed to ride that plasma car down the front steps of the porch onto the street.

Needless to say, I nipped that in the bud.  I mean, GOSH, I wouldn't want him to get a broken nose or something.

Something snapped and he ran into the house in full-on, full-throttle, crazy-tantrum mode.  He  ran to the "grand foyer" (hey, we're still excited about our fancy new home and like to use ridiculous names for all of our enormous rooms) and head-banged repeatedly on the floor.  Jumped up and ran to the living room where he proceeded to  scream and bite his wrist.  He ran around like a chicken with his head cut off screaming at the top of his lungs.  He finally laid on the carpet in the foyer in a prone position sobbing quietly.  I thought it was safe to approach him and I sat next to him and rubbed his back whispering soothing words into his ear....

*BAM*

He came up full-force right smack into my nose- shooting a pain up through it and through my right eyeball.  I immediately saw stars and tears came to my eyes.

Listen, not only do I have Brian, but I have worked with kids with special-needs for almost seven years now.  I've had some hits (just had a piggy-bank bounced off my noggin two days before this incident) and I'm a pro at holding it together while I enforce the rules and help the child calm down.  I don't ever cry in front of the child.  Not this time.

The tears were flowing freely as my entire skull reverberated with the pain.  I somehow managed to ask Brian through my tears (he was still crying and flailing around uncontrollably) if he needed to swing more.  I held his hand and led him to his swing where he instantly calmed down.  I turned around and sat on the stairs and just cried.

A few minutes later he was ready and I drove him and Corbin to school, still crying.  Walked him into the school with tears in my eyes as he just laughed and skipped on to the playground.

I went home and laid on the couch for two hours with an ice pack and ibuprofen.  And I cried for the entire two hours.

I tried to pull it together and went to work.  Got through two clients and I just started to feel nauseated.   There was pressure over my entire face and the pain was not subsiding.  My nose was swollen and there was bruising on either side of the bridge of my nose.

My co-workers pushed me to call my doctor who at the mention of the nausea urged me to go to the ER.

The ER was a joke with them repeatedly asking me, "So, you're here because of a headache?".

No, assholes, I'm here because I got hit in the nose six hours ago and the pain hasn't subsided.  I am gagging from nausea.  I get dizzy when I bend over.  I'm so freaking tired I can't keep my eyes open.  I tried to go to my doctor's but they were worried I have a concussion so that's why I'm here.

They examined me and came to the conclusion that I did not have a concussion though they did say it was very possible my nose was broken or at the least, fractured.  However, I'd have to wait for the swelling to go down to be sure.

They drugged me up with three different medications to help with the pain and to let me get some rest.

Before I fell into my drug-induced coma I heard Colin talking to the nurse in the hallway.

"So, I'm sorry to bug you but I don't think you explained well enough why she was nauseated?"

"We really don't know, it could be just from being in so much pain for so long."

"Yeah, I could see that.  She's had a lot on her plate lately too."

"Sometimes a good knock can release a lot of pent-up stress."


And then I cried some more.  Because it's true.  I think most of my crying that day was just a release.

Oh, and did I mention Brian was officially diagnosed with OCD this week??