The next day, it was bruised and swollen. My hubby and I had the debate "Do we take her to the doctor, or not?" Even though we have insurance, it's one of those high deductible plans and it's still taunting us.
"It looks worse than yesterday."
"It's probably just sprained. Put more ice on it."
As the morning wore on, I felt more dread. What if it really is broken? I tried the insurance company's free nurse help-line: "Our staff is currently helping other callers, please hold and your call will be answered in the order it was received." They don't even do the courtesy of telling you how many other callers are ahead of you.
I tried calling our local doctor. He was solidly booked and the nurse said from the description I gave her that the foot could either be broken or sprained, only an x-ray could tell for sure. "Try the urgent care clinic in the next town."
Okay. Fine. I took her to the urgent care. There was no one in the waiting room (woohoo!) but we still had to wait 15-20 minutes for a doctor to poke at her foot. And we waited 15 minutes to do the x-ray. They did the x-ray. We waited 20 minutes for the film to develop. The doctor came back, shook his head; "It looks like a broken foot, and it acts like a broken foot, but the x-ray doesn't show any broken bones. We'll splint it and send the x-rays to a radiologist for confirmation." They gave her crutches and she nearly face planted three times getting to the car.
A funny thing though; my son was fascinated with my daughter's new support accessories.
9 year old: Can I try your crotches?
Me: Um, son?
9 year old: What?
Me: Don't say that. They are crutches, with a "u".
9 year old: That's what I said.
Me: No. You said "crotches", and they are called "crutches". Do you know what a "crotch" is?
9 year old: Um, in taekwando we had to put up our fists and.....OH! (Embarrassed giggling ensues.)
Me: Yeah. She's getting around on "crutches", thank you.
Oy vey. He's been swiping the things from her every chance he gets. I really didn't raise my son to be a crutch grabber.