So, The Coach calls the doctor's office and nearly yells at the poor receptionist who answers the phone. I can only hear his side of the conversation of course.
The Coach: Hi. My son has an appointment for next week, but is there any POSSIBLE way we can get him in earlier. His arm smells like dead ass.
The Coach: Yes! Dead ASS!
See what had happened was. Ty broke his wrist. And then it was summer and he went to spend a week with his dad. At a beach house. At the beach.
Did he let having a cast on his wrist stop him from surf fishing. Oh heck no.
Ty hurt himself at baseball practice. I got a call from the coach and after a lengthy explanation during which I am imaging a baseball to Ty's temporal lobe I finally got the point of the story. Ty fell and needed to go to the ER because he may have broken his wrist.
Later after Ty returned home from the ER I noticed he had a sheepish look on his face. So I asked, "Were you screwing around at practice." He lied very poorly and said no.
Finally the story came out.
Ty was sitting on the wall of the dugout which is about four feet high. On top of the wall was a short 2x4 that is not affixed to the wall. There was a friend sitting to the right of him. Ty lifted up his right butt cheek to aim gas at his friend. (Apparently this is something teen boys do.) When he did the 2x4 tipped over and dumped him off the left end of the wall.
Ty landed on his arm. His reflexes may not be the quickest.
This was possibly the funniest story that I never actually got to tell people we knew. Ty said no.
I did however tell my family. My pesky brother has big plans to bring a whoopie cushion to the next family gathering. He wants us to take turns sitting on it and then yelling out things like, "Ouch, my foot!" We have low entertainment thresholds.
He did say I could write about the story since he figures there aren't many of your blog readers he actually knows. So now you know...........my son broke his wrist farting. Truly amazing.
I went ahead and linked up. One day I will talk about memories that do not revolve around injuries.
Once Upon a Miracle
Boobies, Babies, and a Blog