Broken Arm
It was in fifth grade. My friends and I were at the basketball court playing a pickup game. I got a rebound off the backboard, and sprinted up the court. One of my taller friends was waiting for me at the basket. Instead of driving down the wide open lane, I pulled up for a jump shot. Before I could get the ball off, I was decked by my biggest friend, Jackson Hoang. It hurt at first quite a bit. It kind of felt like you were getting hit by a mini freight train. Immediately I fell to the ground. I landed hard on my left wrist, and it exploded. Well not literally, but it hurt like crazy. I looked up in agony at my friends disturbed faces. One of them said, "Oh, gross." I looked down and saw that my wrist was bent at an odd angle. That's when I freaked out.
This kind of reminds me of when I was riding bikes with my friend, and he fell and broke his arm. It didn't hurt him at first, but he freaked out because it was bent weird. I was scared because of the pain, because of how it was bent, but most of all, I was scared of me not playing sports during that summer. My baseball season started the very next day, which stunk. I was walked into the small nurses office, and took a seat. I had felt this pain before, because I had broken three bones before this. As I walked past I got a lot of looks that said, " Oh geez, that kid broke his arm." While I was in the nurses office, she wrapped it up, and tried to call my parents. Neither of them were home, and neither had their cell phones wiht them. I waitred in that stuffyu room for two hours before my mom got the message and came to pick me up. She idmediatelly took me to a small orthopedic called Urgent Care. I got an X-RAY and it was confirmed. That officially ended my baseball season.
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