So, this is what happened to big bro yesterday around 11:30 a.m. According to Houston, he was trying to get out of a tree in our backyard that he and Zeke were climbing. He says his foot slipped on the wet wood and then he fell on his elbow when trying to avoid a branch on the way down.

The x-ray of Houston’s “broken left humerus” (read: broken elbow).

Zeke says that Houston was attempting a “sliding” trick. But then again, that info comes from the dude who supposedly refused to get help after the fall and told Houston, “That’s what you get.” (Yeah, that has caused some animosity with the injured party, which will be dealt over the coming days for sure.)

I spotted Houston walking through the yard with a sourpuss face and went to find out what was wrong. I immediately saw his disfigured left arm, began to freak out, plopped him down in a deck chair and ran to get Stephen.

Strangely enough, Houston never cried, but I, on the other hand, was hysterical. His arm just looked horrible and I simply couldn’t think straight for a while.

Stephen was pretty flustered, needless to say, but decided that we could get Houston to the ER faster than could an ambulance. Now, just how to load Houston into the van?

Here’s what Houston’s elbow looked like on the outside. Can you understand why a mother might get a bit hysterical after seeing this?!

The couple attempts we made at barely moving Houston caused him to scream in pain. My emotions subsided briefly enough that I came up with a workable scheme: let’s just load the chair with him in it into the back of the van.

Thankfully, that worked quite seamlessly and my calm and common sense had been redeemed. I rode in the rear with Houston as Daddy sped off to the closest hospital with the entire clan in tow.

We pulled in at noon and Houston’s surgery began at 2:37 p.m. The doc had to manually reassemble his broken elbow bones, fitting them back into proper place like a puzzle. And then he inserted two pins to secure the healing fracture.

The operation only took about an hour and everything went well. God was surely guiding the hands of the surgeons, nurses and anesthesiologists.

I spent the night with Houston, while Granny (who raced into town when she heard news of the injury) helped Daddy with the twins back home. And Houston was released from the hospital about 3 p.m. today and is now resting peacefully in bed.

A much-happier Houston from earlier today is psyched and ready to head home. Thank God for watching over our sweet boy!

Gramsey and Papa are going to take Gabe and Zeke for a few days, so that I can kick off this first week of recovery giving Houston full-time care and attention. But I know this is going to a long and arduous recuperation: soft cast for 10 days, then a hard cast for four weeks, followed by physical therapy. Ugh.

The biggies now are that we keep Houston out of harm’s way (another reason we wanted to have brothers visit Virginia); minimize the swelling and maximize the movement in his fingers; and continue to pray that the growth plates in his elbow mature unabated so that Houston will again have full mobility of his left arm.

It just breaks my heart that my little fish’s dreams of summertime swimming are dashed and that the next couple of months aren’t going to be what he had hoped. But I also know that Houston’s injury could’ve been much worse and that his surgery could’ve gone horribly awry. We’re doing alright, and for that, I am eternally grateful.