Last night started out pretty calm until about 9:18pm. Patrick was out playing softball then soccer and I was relaxing on the couch eating my orzo for dinner. Then at 9:18pm, I get a phone call from Pat. Uh oh. He knew not to call me because I would be in bed since I was exhausted yesterday, but he calls anyway. What?! Well, I pick up the phone and probably said, "um, hello..." and am surprised to hear a girl's voice telling me that Pat "thinks he broke his wrist playing soccer and I'm yada yada yada, so and so's girlfriend". Um, yes, my husband has done it again. Playing sports and injuring himself in some crazy fashion. I begrudgingly get out of bed and head on to the ER to meet them.
Poor Pat and poor couple who got voted as the ones to take him. I am just laughing because I totally thought it was a joke but realized that the poor girlfriend sounded really scared. I'm just glad it wasn't an open fracture because I'm not sure they could have handled it. We got to spend our night in the ER from about 9:45ish to 1:30 and I was irate about how inefficient I believe the ER is. It really irks me because I'm sorry, but there has to be a faster way to expedite everything there. After we finally saw the doctor who tried (and might I add, tried) to do a make-shift splint (which I definitely could have done a better job in a lot less time), we finally got the heck out of there. I wish I had taken a picture of the splint from last night because it was just awful. Anyways, Pat finally got to a real doctor today and he got a much better splint and scheduled surgery for tomorrow. How delightful! All I can say is that finally, the poor boy has actually broken a bone that can be casted!