Knees, Noses, Legs and Fums

On the way home from school last week S2 asked, “Mom, is it fum or thumb?” D2 quickly answered, rolling her eyes at the fact that she needs to answer such simple questions for her older brother, “It’s fum. Duh!”

Speaking of fums, for two weeks DH has been complaining of a tender one. The accident occurred during some old man city league basketball tournament. This was not the first time DH has come home injured from playing basketball.

Once he hurt his knee. It was an intense injury and he eventually had to have the knee scoped. Following the procedure, as I was wheeling him out of the surgical center, DH started puking in an apparent poor reaction to the anesthesia. I really don’t like puke, nevertheless, I decided to bring DH home anyway. He convalesced for a week on the couch where he was miserable, I was bored, and the pain medication gave him nightmares of the Grim Reaper.

Interestingly, many of DH’s basketball injuries have turned out to be less significant than he would lead me to initially believe. One leg affliction was allegedly so intense, he had to be carried home by two large men who took him straight into our bedroom. A physical therapist was even called for an emergency in-home treatment. Somehow the next day DH was miraculously walking without even so much as a hint of a limp. When we were college students, DH came home from a late night scrimmage with what he insisted was a broken nose. We woke up sleeping S1, climbed in the car and rushed to the ER. After paying our $50 co-pay, they played with DH’s nose, x-rayed it and sent us on our way. No broken nose, just a broken budget for the month.

So a couple weeks ago when DH complained of a sore fum, I knew it was probably just a jam or a sprain. Even the swelling and deepening purple tinge didn’t sway my diagnosis. He must have felt that it was not too serious either, because DH played in two basketball games following the initial trauma. Naturally, I did not feel the least bit guilty making him haul a refrigerator into one of my grandpa’s rental properties over the weekend.

Monday afternoon, however, when he could take no more discomfort, DH went to the InstaCare. One hour and 30 minutes later, he came home with proof of a broken bone. Sporting a great sympathy-attracting cast that can only be removed for showering, he's been gathering compassion from everyone. According to the doctor, it is necessary for proper healing so instead of a bum fum, DH will have a plumb fum. He is not supposed to wrap the ace bandage that surrounds the cast too tight or he could end up with a numb fum. Frankly, when I see the doctor bill I’m certain I’ll find his dumb fum to be sum fum. And, as soon as his ball buddies come a callin’ I suspect his chum fum will become a gamesome fum.