As if we didn't spend enough time together in clinics in the past month and a half, Easton decided that surfing a sled down Diefenbaker hill seemed like a great idea yesterday...until he launched himself off a small jump and landed shoulder first on the hard pack and broke his collarbone.
I'm going to say this. Thank God for the Canadian healthcare system. Thank. You. God.
For real. We waited in a clinic with power. We were ushered into a private clinic room with a door that closed and privacy afforded. Easton lay on a clean bed as he waited for the doctor. He needed an x-ray and that was done in the same building, just down the hall.
We got results. We got a sling. We were able to walk away without a hefty bill. It made me grateful again to be afforded such luxury. I didn't have to think about whether or not we could afford to take him to the clinic. I didn't have to think about the long term effects of such an injury, knowing it would be diagnosed and treated pretty much by the end of the day, if not sooner.
I'm not saying this to put down the care we received in Zimbabwe or in Zambia, because we were taken care of. We were well taken care of. BUT, we were taken care of because we had the money to afford it and the contacts to make it happen in a safe place. Not everyone has that luxury.
So, we were given a break. Afforded one. A small price to pay for the realization that we are incredibly lucky to live where and how we do. And as for Easton, he's just proud of the fact that he broke it doing something cool, which in turn, affords him some street cred with his buddies and a story to share for the next while.