Friday night, we spent a lovely time at the beer garden with the neighbors. That is, until C-man and his friend, returned to our picnic table, C-man clutching his wrist, hyperventilating a little. (In between gasps, he proudly reported that he'd done the 360 off the swing at its highest possible arc, but fell forward, slamming his chest into the ground on top of his wrist) After about 10 minutes of not calming down and claiming the pain to be unbearable, we spent the rest of our Friday night in a South Side urgent care. (Who knew in a metro area this size that there'd only be 1 urgent care facility open after 7 p.m. on a Friday?)
The result - a broken radial left wrist fracture. They temporarily hard splinted it, and we'll have to get it casted this week. So down goes the final moments of baseball season. And at the start of summer, he's more than a little disappointed to know he'll be stuck in a stinky cast. But there you have it - a stupid stunt ending in a cast.
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