Meep to the Meepest Degree of Meepishness Meeping

If a day like today is what is necessary to have something to blog about, I'd rather be blogless, thank you very much.  

After a morning of boring errands, Sarah headed over so we could walk with the kids to the park.  While Ewan ran around like a maniac, and after letting Fynn toddle around a little, I took him up to go down the slides, which he loves and laughs with pure joy every time.  So our third time down, we went down the slide, and his shoe caught on the side, jerking his leg back. His laughing turned into the strangest cry I've ever heard.  It was just a complete wail, and I had a bad feeling.  After comforting him a little, I decided to try again on the slide thinking it would cheer him up.  That didn't work.  I speculated maybe he'd sprained or even broken it, but I knew there was no way that was possible.  After we got home I changed his diaper and wiggled his legs all around, and he didn't cry.  But after his nap, he couldn't stand up on it and was in hysterics.  My doctor directed us to the ER.  Try standing room only ER, I literally sat on the floor.  I got there at probably 3:45, perhaps earlier, and just got home at around 10:15 pm.  I was shuffled from waiting area to waiting area, while listening to one woman freak out because they wouldn't give her her psychiatric medication, then enduring the same woman staring at me quite intensely for a very, very long time, then listening to a mother worried about her 17 year old son be told to F*** off by both her son and her husband.  It was simply grand.  And then the grand finale:  Fynn's tibia is broken. Which, in case you don't know, is the big shin bone.  Can you believe that?  Broken.  It's what they call a "non-displaced fracture" or as we would call it - a crack.  The poor baby just learned how to walk, and now he has a giant splint on his leg and can barely even crawl.  I am so upset, I just can't even put it into words.  I am speechless (though not "typeless" apparently). I also hadn't eaten any lunch at all, so I was near passing out the entire time at the ER.  Luckily Mary Ann was able to get Ewan early on, so he was comfortable in his own home with Grandma and Grandpa.  Bryce was able to join me much later, and he took Fynn home when we were released so I could get me some food.  

Here is when the day got even better.  On the way to get food, I noticed a CVS Pharmacy with "Open 24 Hours" on the sign, so I wanted to get his prescription filled.  They told me they wouldn't fill it because they closed at 10:00.  I was walking out when I realized it was 9:50, and my sister spent years and years as a pharmacy tech, so I know it takes five minutes to fill a prescription.  Well, combine an entire day with no food, the anxiety over my injured baby, plus nearly seven hours in a crowded, flu-ridden ER, and rude pharmacists... it wasn't pretty.  Don't mess with a tired, hungry Mama Bear.  I stormed to the back and said, "Excuse me, it's 9:50, I have a baby at home with a broken leg, and you won't fill his pain meds?"  (Thinking, Why does your sign say 24 hours?)

"Ma'am, we close at 10:00."

"I understand that, it's 9:50."

"We close at 10:00."  

"So my baby will be up crying all night in pain because you won't fill his prescription even though you aren't even closed yet."  

Then the situation really deteriorated with the other pharmacist yelling back at me, and I just left.  And you know, I know it won't hurt CVS or anything, but I will never set foot in one again.  Ever.  It may not affect them, but I'll sure feel better.

Thanks so much to Keith for giving Fynn a blessing, we appreciate it so very much.  My poor Fynn.  My poor Fynnicus Fynn of the Fairest of Fynns.  I can't even make this better for him.  

Meep.