Charizard Morph
has doomed us all.
In english class I had to write a report, the subject was an event that happened in your life in the past. I decided to write about breaking my arm in seventh grade. I've already turned it in, it was due today, but i'd like to see your reactions to this story. Please enjoy, and please comment.
I do honestly believe that breaking a bone is one of the most painful things on earth. It is possible that I’m wrong, because most people do not seem to remember the initial breaking of the bone, at least others that I’ve spoken about them to, but I do. I actually remember very clearly what happened, the whole entire process, and I hope that it isn’t anything I ever have to experience again.
Four years ago, at the end of seventh grade, I’d decided to go for a bike ride, it being the end of the year and summertime, of course. I rode my bike to the elementary school, (grades kindergarten to fifth) the classes had been out for about an hour, and all of the busses had finished their routes in the neiborhood, so I was free to do as I pleased within the limits of the law. For a while I just rode around the asphalt where kids had drawn hop scotches and played hangman with pastel colored chalks. There is, also, a large map of the United States that I childishly ran over, pretending to be some sort of giant monster slowly eating all of the states, leaving no survivors.
After a while though, I had grown tired of the asphalt and left the school grounds, turning onto the grey worn sidewalk that leads from the parking lot to the T-section of McCool and five-hundred. A few cars passed and I crossed the street, turning onto a dirt path that leads to the ‘ramps’, a series of dirt mounds dug by kids in the neiborhood so that they could do a series of dangerous stunts and race around an ellipseical track of packed earth. I rode around the path for a while, avoiding the ramps. After a while I decided to try jumping one, my basic unfinished thought process was: Seriously, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s obvious from the results why I consider this small process of thought to be incomplete.
I rode my bike over to a medium sized ramp; it was about three and a half yards from the largest ramp in the field (one that, no matter what circumstances I was under, I would never try), and I figured that it would be a good place to start. I backed up until I was a good distance from it and rode towards it. Not going fast enough, I got just to the top of it and froze, my blood suddenly rushed into my ears. You know how certain events in your life seem to go in slow motion? As if your brain wants the moment to be completely absorbed so that you never forget a single detail, weather good or bad? This was one of those moments, as my bike tottered on top of the hill, that seemed rather large now, my brain slowed down. And I fell. Now that I think about it I realize that falling in the way I did should have broken my right arm rather than my left, but my body must have twisted during the fall, causing a different effect as I landed.
I heard a snap, and a rather unpleasant sensation coursed through my body as I realized what must have happened. Every fiber of my being seemed to scream at me about how stupid I had been. I took a few deep breaths, it didn’t hurt yet, but I couldn’t just lay there like a wounded animal. I maneuvered into an awkward sitting position and looked at my arm, not pleasant, it looked like a boomerang. I had to stand up. I knew that it was probably a stupid thing to do, but I needed to get someones attention, and that probably wasn’t going to happen if I stayed on the ground.
I picked up my arm and cradled it against my chest, as soon as I did this a sharp jolt of pain shot up my arm. I’m not sure if I screamed, I probably did but I still hadn’t gone in to shock, at least I didn’t think I had. I did make a stupid decision not to leave my bike behind and walk to the nearest house. I should have done that, but I figured that on such a nice day someone would hear me if I screamed loud enough. I must have spent about twenty to thirty minutes basically screaming for someone. I know that I must have gone into hysterics around ten minutes after I started screaming. I remember what happened but I also remember having no control over anything.
Someone did eventually hear me, two kids came up and asked if I was okay, it seemed like a rather stupid question to ask but I told then no and that I had broken my arm. One of them ran to get his brother, it seemed to take forever and I must have seemed like a complete psycho to the other kid. I recall laughing at some point in time but I’m not sure what about. Eventually an older boy rode up on his bike, I asked him to go get my mom, and take my bike home. He obliged and after I told him my address he grabbed my bike and rode off. I must have sat down on the dirt mound that betrayed me because I remember standing up as I decided to walk down the road some so that mom could find me easier.
I don’t remember when but at some point in time I started to cry, as I tried to have a sort of conversation with one of the boys while walking. About halfway down McCool I saw our car coming at what seemed to be an impossibly slow rate. It finally arrived and mom got out to open the door for me. I sat down, I remember mom telling me about what happened when the boy arrived at our house as she drove back home.
We stopped in front of our house and mom got out to get her wallet. I felt like it was taking years for us to get to the hospital. I don’t remember much about the car ride, except for singing a few songs and crying about how much my arm hurt. We finally made it to the hospital though, and I had to sit in another chair and wait more. Most of the hospital was a blur, but there is one very clear spot; when they were setting my arm. I lay down on a hospital bed, and they told me to stay very still. They had given me painkillers, but they either hadn’t kicked in or weren’t working, because I remember the searing pain as they did whatever it was they did to my arm, I also remember screaming at the top of my lungs.
I don’t remember anything after that, not really for the next few days. There isn’t anything more for me to say about it, except that while writing this whole thing my arm was extremely uncomfortable and at times ached mildly, or tingled. And that I had to get two surgeries on it, the first to put pins into my arm so that the bones would heal properly, the second to take them out.
Also, after writing that it feels as if my head has been emptied of that unpleasant memory, which may be why I chose to write about it in the first place.
Breaking
Bones
Bones
I do honestly believe that breaking a bone is one of the most painful things on earth. It is possible that I’m wrong, because most people do not seem to remember the initial breaking of the bone, at least others that I’ve spoken about them to, but I do. I actually remember very clearly what happened, the whole entire process, and I hope that it isn’t anything I ever have to experience again.
Four years ago, at the end of seventh grade, I’d decided to go for a bike ride, it being the end of the year and summertime, of course. I rode my bike to the elementary school, (grades kindergarten to fifth) the classes had been out for about an hour, and all of the busses had finished their routes in the neiborhood, so I was free to do as I pleased within the limits of the law. For a while I just rode around the asphalt where kids had drawn hop scotches and played hangman with pastel colored chalks. There is, also, a large map of the United States that I childishly ran over, pretending to be some sort of giant monster slowly eating all of the states, leaving no survivors.
After a while though, I had grown tired of the asphalt and left the school grounds, turning onto the grey worn sidewalk that leads from the parking lot to the T-section of McCool and five-hundred. A few cars passed and I crossed the street, turning onto a dirt path that leads to the ‘ramps’, a series of dirt mounds dug by kids in the neiborhood so that they could do a series of dangerous stunts and race around an ellipseical track of packed earth. I rode around the path for a while, avoiding the ramps. After a while I decided to try jumping one, my basic unfinished thought process was: Seriously, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s obvious from the results why I consider this small process of thought to be incomplete.
I rode my bike over to a medium sized ramp; it was about three and a half yards from the largest ramp in the field (one that, no matter what circumstances I was under, I would never try), and I figured that it would be a good place to start. I backed up until I was a good distance from it and rode towards it. Not going fast enough, I got just to the top of it and froze, my blood suddenly rushed into my ears. You know how certain events in your life seem to go in slow motion? As if your brain wants the moment to be completely absorbed so that you never forget a single detail, weather good or bad? This was one of those moments, as my bike tottered on top of the hill, that seemed rather large now, my brain slowed down. And I fell. Now that I think about it I realize that falling in the way I did should have broken my right arm rather than my left, but my body must have twisted during the fall, causing a different effect as I landed.
I heard a snap, and a rather unpleasant sensation coursed through my body as I realized what must have happened. Every fiber of my being seemed to scream at me about how stupid I had been. I took a few deep breaths, it didn’t hurt yet, but I couldn’t just lay there like a wounded animal. I maneuvered into an awkward sitting position and looked at my arm, not pleasant, it looked like a boomerang. I had to stand up. I knew that it was probably a stupid thing to do, but I needed to get someones attention, and that probably wasn’t going to happen if I stayed on the ground.
I picked up my arm and cradled it against my chest, as soon as I did this a sharp jolt of pain shot up my arm. I’m not sure if I screamed, I probably did but I still hadn’t gone in to shock, at least I didn’t think I had. I did make a stupid decision not to leave my bike behind and walk to the nearest house. I should have done that, but I figured that on such a nice day someone would hear me if I screamed loud enough. I must have spent about twenty to thirty minutes basically screaming for someone. I know that I must have gone into hysterics around ten minutes after I started screaming. I remember what happened but I also remember having no control over anything.
Someone did eventually hear me, two kids came up and asked if I was okay, it seemed like a rather stupid question to ask but I told then no and that I had broken my arm. One of them ran to get his brother, it seemed to take forever and I must have seemed like a complete psycho to the other kid. I recall laughing at some point in time but I’m not sure what about. Eventually an older boy rode up on his bike, I asked him to go get my mom, and take my bike home. He obliged and after I told him my address he grabbed my bike and rode off. I must have sat down on the dirt mound that betrayed me because I remember standing up as I decided to walk down the road some so that mom could find me easier.
I don’t remember when but at some point in time I started to cry, as I tried to have a sort of conversation with one of the boys while walking. About halfway down McCool I saw our car coming at what seemed to be an impossibly slow rate. It finally arrived and mom got out to open the door for me. I sat down, I remember mom telling me about what happened when the boy arrived at our house as she drove back home.
We stopped in front of our house and mom got out to get her wallet. I felt like it was taking years for us to get to the hospital. I don’t remember much about the car ride, except for singing a few songs and crying about how much my arm hurt. We finally made it to the hospital though, and I had to sit in another chair and wait more. Most of the hospital was a blur, but there is one very clear spot; when they were setting my arm. I lay down on a hospital bed, and they told me to stay very still. They had given me painkillers, but they either hadn’t kicked in or weren’t working, because I remember the searing pain as they did whatever it was they did to my arm, I also remember screaming at the top of my lungs.
I don’t remember anything after that, not really for the next few days. There isn’t anything more for me to say about it, except that while writing this whole thing my arm was extremely uncomfortable and at times ached mildly, or tingled. And that I had to get two surgeries on it, the first to put pins into my arm so that the bones would heal properly, the second to take them out.
Also, after writing that it feels as if my head has been emptied of that unpleasant memory, which may be why I chose to write about it in the first place.