broken
Lucas has chipped a bone in his ankle, so we found out yesterday. His talus, to be exact. On the x-ray, the broken bit appears as a fade off the bone itself, almost resembling an afterthought. The doctor, whose bedside manner has warmed up a little since the very first time we visited him about a week ago, recommends that Lucas be on crutches and in an air-cast for the next three weeks. This, of course, will make the next few weeks more fun than it probably would be, if Lucas hadn't busted up his ankle. When Raspberry's older, I'm sure we'll tell it amusing stories of its first few weeks, when Daddy was hobbling around and Mommy was too wiped to even move (just a guess, based on what I've heard and read) and Raspberry was left to forage and fend for itself. Well, that's probably not how it'll play out, but it makes for some fun just imagining scenarios with uproarious results. Lucas can't very well say he's never broken a bone now. Ordinarily, I'd be jealous, since I've always wanted a broken bone, and the accompanying cast and magic-markered insignia. But, dealing with my waddling and occasional jarring pains down my leg (we surmise that's from the widening hips), and the fact that I wish at least one of us was in perfectly mobile, my wish for a broken bone has been temporarily shelved. It's a good thing Raspberry will probably have to be induced this weekend, since I don't think we'd manage entirely well trekking to the hospital, me with presumbly seering contractions and him with a bum foot. Although, that in itself could make for some hilarity, seen that way after the fact, of course.