The Big Crash

At the end of May I recieved the dreaded phone call from a Scout Leader.  "Uhm, were bringing Andrew home.  He's been in an accident and crashed his bike.  Were not sure if he is going to need medical attention."  Oh boy.  First off, let me say, I would never want to have the responsibility of being a scout leader.  No matter how hard you try, boys with almost grown bodies and half grown brains are inherently dangerous.

For months the scouts had been preparing for a biking trip to Moab.  Their leaders had been taking them out biking to help build up their endurance.  They were coming fast down a steep hill when Andrew lost control of his bike.  He swerved to miss crashing into his friend in front of him and tipped over his bike and proceeded to slide down the road with every surface of his body.  Luckily, everyone was required to wear helmets  Otherwise this story would have been MUCH worse.

I have no idea how he did it, but Andrew played the tough guy.  He kept telling them, "I'm fine, I'm fine."  He was NOT fine.  They loaded him and his mangled bike up and brought him home.  Let me tell you, I have never seen one of my children this damaged and bloody before.  It was a bit shoking.  And he kept telling us, "I'm fine" too.  That is until the scout leader left.  I said, "Andrew, you're not fine," and the flood gates opened.  The thing is, he was more worried about the nice bike his grandma had bought him than himself.  We assured him that grandma would not be mad at him and would only be concerned that he was OK.  Then we started dealing with the carnage.

After assessing that nothing was broken, or needed stitching, we decided we could torture him just as well as the ER.  We watched him for signs of a concussion or shock.  I made Justin watch him in the shower, which is very embarrassing when you are 14.  After showering we spent a few hours picking out gravel and dirt, dousing him with hydrogen peroxide, spraying him with every germ and infection fighting essential oil I have (meleluca, oregano, Purify, OnGuard, lavender, and clove for the pain), smearing him with neosporin, and bandaging him up.  The poor child looked like a mummy when we were done with him. Both his arms we road rashed from the shoulders to his fingertips.  His elbows were skinned down to the white fleshy stuff, eww.  He had scraped off parts of flesh from the palms of his hands and some of his fingertips.  His knees were skinned up like his elbows.  Both the front and back of his shoulders were scraped up.  He must have rolled to get both sides like that. Luckily he had on his camel pack, which took the brunt of the back injuries.

He was in a lot of pain for a few days and missed some school.  It took a few weeks for everything to heal up.  It is now six months later and he has scars all up and down his arms.  Hopefully they will fade with time.  The good news is 1. Helmets save lives.  He had a big dent and crack in his helmet.  That could have easily been his head.  2. He healed enough in time to go to Moab with the scouts.  3.  His bike is OK, after 3 trips to the cycle shop to get it all repaired.  The bike mechanics were sure he would be in the hospital when they saw the condition of his bike.  Here are a few pics for the unsqueamish.  This is just one arm, before and after mother torture.

We asked Meagan to take care of Sienna while we dealt with this.  Apparently, they were a bit tired. Too sweet.  What a good big sister.