Breaking My First Bone

When I was nine, I fractured my left elbow, from riding down my staircase in a small laundry basket. My elbow hit part of the railing, and I felt the pain immediately, a stinging pain. I ran across my house for a while, slowly getting on my couch, resting my arm on my head. My aunt checked if I was okay. I slept for a few hours, waking up at a very late time. I called out to my aunt, but no one answered, so I decided to go upstairs.

Each time I moved my arm, a sharp, excruciating pain ran throughout my body. I tried to wake up my aunt, but she was in a very deep sleep. I crawled in bed between my little brother and my aunt, sleeping once more.

When I woke up, I heard a T.V from downstairs. My brother and aunt were up. I walked downstairs, reminding my aunt of what happened, she nodded, telling me she would get me to the E.R. soon. So, I waited.

Finally, my aunt told me and my little brother to get in the truck. After we drove to the E.R., we hopped out of the car and waited for my aunt to find a good parking spot.

After we got in, she talked to a man at the front desk, and we headed into one of the rooms. A nurse told me to position my arm so she could scan it, which was ironic because it hurt to position my arm in that specific spot.

Once she left, a doctor came and wrapped up my arm, he said I had to wear it for a few months, then I could take it off. He also said I had to get scans. After we were done, I spent summer vacation with a cast. I felt much better, the gauze-like wrap acted like a pillow for my elbow. I bragged about it to my peers, over the last two weeks of third grade.

Over those days I had to go through art, markers and crayons getting on my bulky cast, making my aunt a little annoyed!