We were all scootering around "the block". It's not really a block, but it is about a mile loop around our neighborhood. Very quiet on a Saturday morning. The ground was wet, but it was not raining nor likely to begin again. R. and T. were well ahead of A. and I (A is only 3 after all, while good at scootering, it's a new activity and she's prone to frequent stops to look for twigs and acorns). As I was carefully braking going down a steep hill and watching A. to make sure she was keeping her speed to a safe level, I saw R. walking up the hill. He commented, your brakes work.
I was on a Xootr, because I am obese and I exceed the weight limit on a lot of cheaper scooters. R. was on a Razor, because it is cheap and I had bought one before I discovered the Kickboard scooters. The kids were on Kickboard Minis or Micros or whatever the tiny ones are called (I got T. the next size up but he prefers the pink one I bought for A. when T. took the green one I originally bought for A. Usually, he's on the pink one and she's on the green one, at least currently). The kids don't seem to use the brakes much and are generally cautious about letting speed build on a downhill. They start slowing down right from the top and walk it down if they're having trouble. Me, too, but I used to watch R. scream down the hill and use the brakes and think I had an irrational fear of going fast on a scooter.
Anyway. Turns out the brakes on that Razor do not work when they get wet. In the aftermath, R. landed hard on his left arm (but did not hit his head, so no concussion or busted teeth) and chest (I'm sure he'll chime in with a detailed description). He thought he had perhaps broken the bone and needed a soft cast. We proceeded home where he then got in the Fit and drove to the doctor's office (which has urgent care on the weekends). I asked if maybe he should just head down to Emerson, since they were going to want X-rays? Why would they want to do that?
Once the doc got him out of his jacket and flannel shirt, it was clear there was more than a hairline break. Arm bones don't bend that way. (At least he didn't pull a Dave Barry and attempt to call it "just a sprain".) Off he drove to Emerson, where they decided he needed a plate. Lucky him! He hadn't really had breakfast. But they kept him overnight because they wanted abx in him for 24 hours (altho he wore them down and got out a few hours early, which is smart because there was a MRSA patient across the hall) and were concerned about possible arrhythmia because he landed hard on his chest as well.
The kids and I brought him a bag of fruit, Clif bars, some Drip Drop and a ham and turkey on whole wheat sandwich last night, and T. and I went to return his wallet to him today so he could have his driver's license when he drove himself home. I married a tough guy; no Vicodin since 10 p.m. the night before.
I took T. to his therapeutic riding lesson (B.F. was available to take A. to hers this morning and entertain her for most of the day, which was a huge relief) and upon our return we learned R. had walked to the CVS for fill his prescription and then the hardware store to pick up some things we'd planned to get on Saturday, until he broke his arm.
R. is mostly irritated that he's going to miss some Fine Bicycling Weather as a result. He broke the radius clean through; he'll be in the cast a month and it won't be completely healed for more like 3 or 4. The plate can't come out for at least a year.