Friday, September 9, 3:30 PM. Amy.

Yesterday was harrowing and I’m still a little shaken. About 10 o’clock, Claire came rushing in, shouting that Trevor had fallen and broken his arm. For a second I was so shocked I couldn’t move. My thoughts were: get to Trevor, compound fracture, get to the doctor, no doctors, DANGER DANGER DANGER! Claire grabbed my arm and I started moving. I shouted for Brewer and he came out of the barn jogging—he could tell I was alarmed. I followed Claire to where the bank is low but Brewer saw where Trevor was and scrambled and splashed there in a matter of seconds.

Trevor was crying woefully; you could tell he was really in pain. I almost fainted when I saw his arm. I was picturing worse, but it was bad enough. The angle wasn’t right and there was a lump near his wrist that shouldn’t have been there. Brewer picked him up and carried him around the long way back to the house. We got him on the sofa and did our best to play nurse and doctor. We weren’t able to set the bone—I think it would’ve taken general anesthesia for that—but it seems aligned enough to heal back okay, hopefully. Brewer had us pray for Trevor, that he’d be free from pain and it would heal strong, and that we’d know how to do the right things to ensure that. As we were kneeling beside the sofa and Brewer was talking and Trevor was sniffling, I thought, What’s the point of praying for that right now? It’s a bone; it’s going to heal how it heals. Let’s get on with setting it! But the prayer helped calm Trevor down; by the time it was done he was quiet and brave, just saying “ow” now and then as we wrapped it with a cast. We’d picked up a cast kit from town when we made our big medical raid a couple of weeks ago. I’m thankful for that.

I hate that my boy is going to have a crook in his arm for the rest of his life only because of a silly little accident.

We are all going to have to be more careful. If one of those cows steps on a foot, or somebody dives the wrong way off the diving board… It’s easy to get yourself crippled or maimed in this world, and I do not want ever to be in a situation where my medical expertise makes the difference between life and death for one of my kids. And yet the chances of that happening eventually are almost certain. I can’t bear it.

Brewer and I both—and probably the kids too—need to increase our measly medical expertise as fast and far as possible.

We all slept on the floor again last night. We would have moved to our rooms but it wasn’t a good night for a big change or for anyone to be alone. Maybe tonight we’ll all be ready.

Trevor has actually been fine today. He kind of digs his cast—we all signed it—and says he doesn’t have any pain. He’s running around playing pretty much like usual. It started to rain this morning and we had to pull him back inside. He wasn’t happy about that, and he was even less happy when we reminded him he wasn’t allowed to swim for six weeks. I thought I’d take him back over to our old house to help me with the gardening. I’m planning to keep that garden going until everything is harvested this autumn.