What’s better than summer vacation when you’re a kid? It was almost three whole months of no-school bliss during the time of year when there is more daylight than dark. Growing up, I played outside a lot. I baked mud pies, played in the hills, and rode my bike for hours. I’d watch a couple hours of TV at night, but otherwise, I was outside.
One day, early in the summer between my Kindergarten and 1st Grade years of school, a friend of my grandfather’s came to visit and had his son and some other kids with him. They were all boys, but I was used to that and being a bit of a tomboy, I didn’t mind. We all set off for a great day of adventuring on the farm.
Around mid-day, we were playing on a small foot bridge that stretched across the branch that ran by my house. From the bridge to the lowest point below was maybe a six foot drop and I was sitting in the middle of the bridge with my legs dangling over the edge of the little bridge.
“Let’s play jump off the bridge.” one of the boys called out.
Before I could stand up to take my turn to jump, the boy shoved me off the bridge. I landed on my hands and knees in the water. My arms hurt and it scared me to the point that I was frozen to my landing spot. My screaming and crying alerted the adults in the side yard. My grandfather scooped me up to help me to the house. The little boy’s dad grabbed him and spanked him every step of the way back to our porch. Other than some scrapes and bruises, I didn’t seem to be seriously hurt.
I still complained about my arms hurting so my mom wrapped both wrists up in ACE bandages. After a day or so, I could feed myself and do most anything I needed or wanted to do with my arms, but I still complained about them hurting. Finally, about two weeks after my fall, my mom took me to the emergency room to have my arms checked out. Turns out, I had broke them at the wrist. Both of them. I needed casts on my wrists and they wrapped around the middle of my hand, around my thumb and up my arm to just an inch or so below my elbow.
My dad was with us at the hospital, which was sort of rare because he wasn’t around a whole lot, and there was some sort of carnival set up near the hospital. They had a Tilt-a-whirl which was my all time favorite ride at the time (ok, I still love the Tilt-a-whirl) and I played the broken arm card like a champ. Dad must have drawn the short straw, because he dubiously climbed aboard with me while Mom stood watching from the side lines. I remember laughing as we whirled and wobbled around in a circle for a few minutes. Dad turned green and I believe he may have puked shortly after the ride stopped.
My wrists healed nicely and other than some aches and pains from time to time, I haven’t had any problems with my wrists or hands.