Once, after Miranda had taken some spill or another, my mom told me that Dr. Spock said, "If a child hasn't had a broken bone by the time he's 18 years old, he's been overprotected." It sounded good at the time, kinda took the pressure off. But somehow it feels different when you're standing with the orthopedic surgeon, examining x-rays of the hairline fracture at the top of Miranda's right tibia (shinbone) -- you can see it at the bottom of the photo. According to him, we have 2 options:
- He could set her right leg in a cast from toes to hip (he didn't say for how long)
- We could try to carry and hold her as much as possible for the next week, and it should heal on its own ("If she was my daughter, that's what I'd do," he said.)
Guess which one we chose? Here's hoping it was the right decision. We'll follow up in a week; we'll keep you posted.
[How did it happen? She was running down the hallway -- the carpeted hallway -- when she tripped over her little feet and went down, splat. We thought it was nothing until she got up and wouldn't put down her foot. After four days of debate -- "Is she limping or not? I can't tell. Can you tell?" -- we got an x-ray and voila, hairline fracture. Yikes. Poor little wunchie.]