****
Cori looked at the younger boy in front of her sitting with his parents. She'd taken care of the boy and his older brother for years. They were recommendations and had been with her since she first started practicing medicine. For years she'd guided them through the sniffles, broken bones, sprained joints and an automobile accident. Who said being a Pediatrician was all snot-nosed kids with ear infections?
"Dr. Cori?"
"Sorry Scott, was off in my own world. I've got the x-rays back and I've got some bad news."
"It's broken, isn't it? I knew it!! I can't have a broken wrist! I have to play hockey this year. Dr. Cori, I'm on the starting line, my last year on the team and-"
"Scott, it's not broken." She saw the relief on his face and held up a hand. "BUT… it is hyper-extended to the point of almost broken. Your wrist ligaments are stretched so thin that you were lucky they didn't snap. Your muscles are stretched and some of the bones in your wrist are out of place." She stood up and put an x-ray up on the light on the wall behind her. "Come over here and look at this."
Scott got up and came around the desk, his left wrist and forearm in a splint, bandaged up so it was immobile. It'd been like that for almost 4 hours since he'd crashed into the boards during practice. One good note was that the painkillers he'd been given in the ER had taken a good effect on him and he wasn't feeling any pain at all.
Cori took the pen in her hand and pointed to the mass of white chips where a wrist should be. "These are the bone pieces that make up the human wrist. Now, this is not your wrist. This is a x-ray of a normal healthy wrist. I keep this copy for comparisons. This is what a wrist should look like." She paused and put up another x-ray. The white chips were all over the place and both Scott and his parents could see the distended white lines running along either side. "This is your wrist. See here and here?" She pointed to two larger bones first. "These are way out of place. When you hit, you hit hard. Let me see if I can decipher this. For some ungodly reason, you felt macho enough to practice without your gloves on, correct?" Scott nodded yes, a blush on his cheeks. "Uh huh… well, you know that wasn't smart, but hey, you figured it'd never happen to you, right? Yeah I thought so. OK, when you were…"
"Checked. From behind… he hit me and I fell forward, skidding across the ice."
"Face-first into the boards, which are designed to flex a little, but are still hard when hit as fast as you were sliding. What were you clocked at? 40? 50?"
"My highest on ice speed is clocked at 45mph."
"Yeah, and you weren't obviously going that fast when you hit, but you were going pretty fast."
"What's the verdict Doc?"
Cori turned to Scott's father and smiled. "It's not as bad as it looks. I think that it can be worked back into place with intense physical therapy. However, as a precaution I have asked for a surgeon to come and take a look at Scott's x-rays to see if he thinks that surgery is warranted. The best thing you can do right now is take Scott home, let him rest and keep that wrist wrapped and immobile."
"Thanks Dr. Cori. You'll call us and let us know as soon as you hear something?"
"Of course. Get that pain killer prescription filled as soon as possible. I'm sure that shot they gave you in the ER is going to wear off in a little while. Take care Scott."
She kissed his cheek and shook his parents' hands as she said good-bye to them. As they took their son home, Cori watched the parents fussing over him. He was a good kid, a lot like his older brother. Sports junkies the both of them, they played everything they could. Matt was stellar at swimming, but he also was fairly apt with a football and a soccer ball. Scott was phenomenal with a puck, but did well in track and baseball. Both of them had come to her over the years with bruises, bumps, cuts, broken bones, and the odd chipped tooth. This time it wasn't going to be as simple as bandaging it and sending him off with a wink. He might well need surgery.
Cori sighed as she sat down behind the desk again and looked up at the x-rays. Surgery… Slingerland was right when he'd told that handsome cutter that she didn't like surgeons. But it wasn't personal it was professional. More than likely this one too would recommend surgery to move the bones back into place and hem up the tendons and ligaments. A simple procedure, she knew. But she wasn't sure if she wanted to put them through that, not if it could be fixed with therapy.
****
