I’ll never forget the day I broke my arm
- Pages: 4
- Word count: 817
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In the next few pages I will recall how I broke my arm, when I was quite young; infant school, from the beginning to the last final part. I have never forgotten this day and I do not think I will.
It was a warm sunlit day, the day I was going to my friend’s house. My mum and I set off from our house and had decided to walk as it was a fine day. I arrived at my friend’s place at about mid-day. I rang the doorbell this was answered by my friend’s mum and the smell of a wonderful lunch being prepared. I went to find Yema, my friend; she was watching television though I can’t remember what was on. We washing our hands ready for lunch it was curry and rice with the fresh soft type of French bread. It was excellent!
Yema and I played in the garden for a while as both our mums were chatting in the living room, with mugs of tea. Then they came out and asked if we wanted to go to the park; we did. All of us went in the car, only took us a few minutes. When we reached there I realized the park was immense. They were trees with their thick coat of leaves and squirrels running up there trunks.
After a while we rounded one of the parks corners and there in plain sight was the playground, swings, slides and see-saws all dotted around the playground. It was full of things to do, a child’s paradise. I went towards the climbing frames when I saw a group of grey oversized pigeons, running up to them; I scared them away up into the blue clear sky.
During my time in the playground I went on the climbing frame, it was enormous. Then when I thought I was going to reach the top the unbelievable happened fast as lighting. First my foot started to slip and I fell. I remember falling, the wind blowing past my face, no-where to hold onto then the ground coming closer each second. I landed with my left arm breaking my fall the pain came first then shock of what had happened. My arm was in agony it felt like it would not end. Yema came up to me and asked if I was alright I told her what had happened and she said my arm could be broken so she led me back to my mum. My mum said that we were going to the hospital to get my arm checked out.
The traffic was painstakingly slow and time-consuming and seemed as if it went on for hours. Eventually we reached the hospital with ambulances were constantly rushing backwards and forward, to and from the hospital’s Accident and Emergency entrance. Together we all reached the front reception. All of my senses were overpowering, the sounds coming from deep within the hospital were shouts and movement. Just watching was enough, whitewashed walls with sterile spotless floors, ill patients waiting to be treated. I tasted the unpleasant bitter taste of the air on the edge of your tongue, every time you breathed in and the awful smell of hospitals that everyone must know of.
The lady at the desk asked my mum about everything that had happened and told us were we should go to see the doctor. It was a winding path of the same corridors on the way there. Finally we got to the doctors door and I went in with my mum. Yema stayed outside on the seats with her mum next to the fish tank.
The doctor said I would have to have an ex-ray, just to make sure then he would put a plaster cast on my arm. The pain in my arm had begun to lessen. I went for my ex-ray and the results showed I had broken the bone in my lower left arm so the doctor got all the equipment for plaster casting my arm then he started. After some time it was finished it was cold and seemed to reduce the pain even more. I was told to leave it on for two to three weeks; I was free to leave the hospital.
At school a few days later all my friends had signed my plaster cast. All over were names and comments. My arm didn’t hurt anymore but it did itch a lot. Then after my few weeks were up my mum and I went back to the doctors and I had a shock when the doctor had a cutter in this hand. It was like a pizza cutter only it looked sharper. He rolled it on this arm to prove it wouldn’t hurt then he started cutting the plaster off. When the plaster cast was gone I was glad to have my arm back but sad as I had started to get used to the plaster cast.