I’ll be honest with you: Grammy and I had a bit of a tough time when we learned your family was relocating from New Hampshire to Maine. We knew we’d still see you – after all Scarborough is only an hour away. It was more a case of knowing you’d face new challenges like adjusting to a new place, school, sports, neighborhood and making new friends. And that you were leaving so much behind. We also worried about your Dad and the adjustments he’d probably face with his career in a new state.
But people move every day (and sometimes throughout their lives) it’s not unusual. We were proud how you all had the guts to try something scary, something new, and knew you could do it, despite having to go through some “interesting times.” Parents and grandparents worry about all kinds of things (sometimes way too much) and change can be hard.
So when Monday, October 26 came around – moving day – there was nervousness and trepidation all the way around (well maybe not Madigan). You had been staying with us at the beach for four days, and now it was time to venture farther north to your new home in Scarborough, Maine.
It was a warm, sunny, early Fall day, and we knew things would get better with time.
Grammy and I toured your house for the first time and got a feel for your new neighborhood. We helped you guys move, adjust and fix things.
Later in the day, after things had settled down a bit, we went outside and worked on a cool Halloween set-up on your porch and front yard. Later, you and Ainsley wanted to go to the neighborhood playground down the street. I decided to accompany you.
You got on your bike and sped away fast, leading the way. Ainsley and I trailed behind at a slower pace.
Five minutes or so down Tenney Lane, I looked up during my conversation with your sister and saw you hit a bump, fly off your bike, landing on the lawn to your right.
‘Oh boy,’ I said to myself, ‘this isn’t good. He landed hard. but at least he landed on the lawn, not the paved sidewalk.’
I ran down to see how you were doing. Sitting there on the lawn, you held your right arm, trying not to move it. You had a very serious look on your face. I could tell you were in pain.
“What did you land on, what hurts?” I asked. I noticed how your arm was cocked at a strange angle. At first I thought you may have dislocated your shoulder. Something looked funky and wasn’t right.
“Is it your shoulder, does it hurt here?” “No, its more down here,” as you pointed to your arm. The pain was bad and I was afraid you might pass out. I put my arm around you. You were not moving your arm in any way, shape or form.
“Take deep breaths through your nose with your mouth closed Camden, big breaths, filling up your chest. Then open your mouth and slowly let it out. Keep doing this, it will make you feel better.”
I was trying to get you to calm down a bit and get your mind off the pain. You’re such a trooper, you did exactly as you were told, and sat there quietly. You were scared.
I grabbed my cell phone and called Grammy. “Uh, Camden fell off his bike, and you may want to get down here fast.” That was all I needed to say – Grammy and I have known each other 46 years and she can read me like a book.
I knew there was no way you could stand, let alone walk. You were pale and quiet, trying hard to keep a ‘stiff upper lip’ (as the British say) through the waves of pain. We sat together, I kept talking to you, trying to focus your breathing as we waited for help. You were so brave, I was amazed and proud as I told you it would be okay and help was on the way.
It wasn’t long after you were home in the living room chair that you left with Grammy and your Dad to visit the emergency room (ER) and get checked out. It was 15 or so minutes away, but the traffic was slow and it probably felt like a 100-mile journey.
After what felt like an eternity of waiting we got a phone call – the x-ray revealed a dislocated and fractured right elbow. Not good news. I felt so bad this had happened “on my watch” and didn’t say much as I stayed back at your house with your Mom, Dadu and Nana. I kept thinking about how you were in a new neighborhood, didn’t know anyone, everything was different. I couldn’t believe you wouldn’t be able to start school, meet new friends for weeks or play on the hockey team you had just tried out for and made.
I felt so bad the first day of your new life had started this way. You didn’t deserve this! I was angry and frustrated, wishing I could have somehow been beside you when you hit that bump and flew through the air. But you had pedaled fast and were way ahead of Ainsley and I.
Another thing kept nagging me. As I replayed our conversation on the lawn, I had asked what happened and you said:
“I hit a bump and went flying.”
While that seemed to make sense, I still couldn’t believe the outcome.
After a long while you made it back home, arm in a cast and sling. You had been told to keep your arm still, so you took it seriously. I bet your mind was racing as you tried to deal with the reality of being in a new house, in a new state far away from your closest friends, now having to deal with a broken elbow. Here’s what you looked like later that afternoon:
The pain medication had kicked in!
After awhile, Grammy came over to me and told me a little story. Turns out while you were in the ER, you had discussed what had happened and a different version of the story emerged:
“I was trying to pop a wheelie and lost control of my bike.”
Aha!! And there you have it, the rest of the story! Now that’s the Camden I know and love, my hard-charging, spirited, confident young boy who’s always pushing the envelope. This accident wasn’t about me, of course, but somehow you ‘coming clean’ on the accidental event made me feel a little better!
The next day your parents took you to a orthopedic surgeon for an opinion. The news came fast and grim: you’d need immediate surgery because the fracture was complicated and potentially debilitating if it wasn’t addressed immediately. One day later, on October 8, you were under the knife at Mercy Hospital. The nervousness of October 6 returned in spades. This was the first time you had ever been in surgery, and put under by anesthesia.
After what seemed like hours, you woke up and we visited you in your private post-op room. You looked so tiny in that big bed, and the cast around your arm seemed massive. Here’s a photo:
Your surgeon said you’d have to stay in the cast for at least six weeks and any physical activities would be restricted. This meant no school for weeks as you adjusted to the pain medication, cast and sling. And no hockey for months and months.
After we got you home, Grammy and I ventured out to Portland to get your pain medication prescription filled. It took forever as we went from pharmacy to pharmacy. There were complications, but we finally got what you needed and headed back. We were happy to have helped out to put you in a more comfortable position.
Five days later, the Clickman’s came up to see your new house and visit. We went out to eat at Two Lights State Park, then ventured down to the same playground we had tried to reach one week before, this time meeting with success. I could see the old Camden spirit coming alive already, you were raring to go, despite the cast and sling, launching airplanes into the air with your cousins. It would only be only a matter of time before you were attempting to do things well beyond the scope of your Doctor’s advice.
So there you have it, the story of what happened on your very first day in Maine, at your new home, when you were nine years and six days old.
Three final things:
1. It’s all uphill from here Camden! Hang in there, get better, heal well and in a few weeks things will improve. You will get through this – and all life obstacles – because you have an indomitable spirit, confidence, competitiveness and a charming persistence to succeed.
2. I believe I’ve blogged about this before…. you’ve always had an uncanny ability to make a strong entrance as you enter a room. You don’t enter meekly, you charge in, full speed with energy and an agenda. That’s what you did this time around on October 6, 2014 as you entered a new neighborhood in a new State. I’m proud of you!
3. Do all of us a favor next time, keep the grand entrance thing going, but don’t hurt yourself in the process!