The turds.
No wonder my sister laughed in my face when I told her it was no problem.She failed to tell me that birthday parties are a form of torture, and no amount of alcohol or ice cream cake can make it worth it.
Harper was originally supposed to miss this party because Dani had her final Master of Science exam, and Phil was back in Calgary, taking care of his mother after a nasty fall.My niece, who is usually the definition of go-with-the-flow, had thrown a major fit over not being able to attend.
Cue the hero uncle.Me.
I thought I was saving the day.Giving back to the family I love but don’t see as often as I like due to my travel schedule.Instead, I was setting myself up for lifelong trauma.I will never forget the sound of Harper’s scream of pain.
I shiver just thinking about it.
I scribble random nonsense that’s probably legally questionable on the rest of the forms and move on.I need to get these forms filled out fast so that someone can look at Harper’s arm.
Medical history?Allergies?Surgeries?
Why do children have so many boxes?How do parents just…know all this?I don’t think I could even recall allmyinformation.
Dani’s in her exam for another hour, and I didn’t want to freak her out.I’m already going to get the scolding of a lifetime from her, so there was no point in fast-tracking that event.
I am positive, though, that if Harper were allergic to anything or had a medical event in her short nine years, I would have been aware of it.I may not see my family often, but that doesn’t mean we don’t talk.And overshare.
There’s no way Dani would have let me babysit Harper at any point without telling me this information.
Taking a deep breath to build my confidence, I check offNoto all three questions.I breathe out, relieved.Harper glares up at me with her watery eyes like she knows I’m failing as an uncle.
Not wanting to dwell too much on that depressing thought, I lift Harper again and head back to the reception desk to hand in her paperwork.I fumble for a moment as I swing Harper’s backpack off my shoulder and onto my chest, then root around for her health card.
The receptionist raises one eyebrow in judgment at me as I slide everything through the slot in the Plexiglas.
Do we…I point back to the chair I was sitting in, not sure if we should stand here or move to a different section.The woman just nods, still not looking away as I back up slowly.
By a miracle, or possibly by sheer dumb luck, we only wait twenty minutes before Harper’s name is called by a nurse at the far end of the room.
Harper Crane-Mayfield?
We’re up in a flash.The receptionist watches us go with the same expression someone wears when they think they know a secret but aren’tquiteconfident enough to say it out loud.
Good.If she doesn’t ask for a selfie or expose me, I’ll personally donate to the hospital foundation.Or literally give her the sweater off my back.
The nurse leads us into triage, closing the curtain behind us.Harper settles onto the exam table, her lower lip trembling like a cartoon as her wide, teary eyes take in all the jars and equipment around the room.
Hi, sweetie,the nurse says gently.I’m just going to take a quick look at your arm.
I step up to Harper’s side, putting a hand on her back to let her know I’m close.I can feel her tiny body vibrating with nerves.Harper nods bravely, but when the nurse starts to palpate along the forearm, she gasps, tiny and sharp.
My chest tightens.I know the nurse is just doing her job and needs to conduct this test in order to help Harper…but my God, am I being tested today.Every sniffle and cry makes me want to commit murder.
Okay, that’s enough,I say, stepping closer.Harper is crying again, trying her best, but the pain must be too much.She’s hurting.
The nurse nods in understanding.I think we should send her for X-rays to be sure.It might be a buckle fracture.
Harper blinks up at me.My hand has a seat buckle?No, you can’t take it off!Harper begins to struggle on the exam table.
No,I say immediately.No, Moose.That’s just the name of a part of your arm.It doesn’t come off.Your arm is very sturdy.You are so strong.But the nurse thinks that part of your arm is what’s hurting.I search desperately for another explanation, but that seems to do the trick.
She narrows her eyes.Uncle Sid.If they take my arm—
The nurse tries not to laugh as she interrupts Harper’s pending threat to me.We’ll only be gone a few minutes.
