I, like others in my family, enjoy joking about all the ridiculous superstitions that people have. Once, while walking down a sidewalk we came across a ladder propped against a building. We proceeded to joke and made a great show of not walking under the ladder because that would be a horrible thing and would mean bad luck. Of course, we dripped sarcasm. However it was rather funny because a group of people walking behind us, overheard our conversation and started talking about it too.
And thus, when I talk about a certain event of my life, I usually poke a little fun at superstition too, because after all, it did happen on my 13th half-birthday, and 13, as we all know, is a very unlucky number. (Not!)
That day, we were invited to go roller skating with another family we knew and their other friends. Neither myself or my brothers had ever roller skated to speak of. That is, we'd done it for a few minutes on carpet before. This however, was an actual skating rink; nothing close to carpet, and, in my opinion, not nearly as safe.
However, when we got their, my brothers and I came to the mutual agreement that, since we were there to roller skate, we might as well roller skate. The rink was oval. On three quarters of the oval were walls which blocked access onto the rink. On the last part of the oval was a large open space where there were no walls, or rails, or anything to hold on to. And this, naturally was the only way to get onto the rink. It was truly stepping, or rolling, out in faith.
We all half slipped, half rolled our way to the safety of the wall, and using it to hold us up, we began to actually work on learning how to keep our balance. Our friends meanwhile, were going circles around us, figuratively speaking. And then, alas, the wall ended. We were forced to cross that huge open stretch with no help from anything. Needless to say, our first couple of dozen circuits around the rink were not something I would want anyone to see. After that however, we all started gaining confidence.
By now, nearly two hours had past and our parents had just told us to do one more loop and then we were to leave. I was just at the beginning of the wall, which I still used a little, but not much. I have to say, though I don't like to, that just moments before, I had been teasing my brothers about how much better I was doing than they were. I guess that should have warned me.
When I reached the end of the wall on my last loop, I told myself that when I did the open stretch, I would really do it. You know, no sitting down, no slipping, lots of confidence. "I can do this" I remember thinking.
I thought it again when I was three quarters of the way across the open stretch. The end was in sight. Unfortunately, I rejoiced to soon. I forgot the rule about bending my knees and leaning forward at the same time. I leaned back just a very little. I didn't really even realize at first that I was on the ground. The action of falling didn't seem to have occurred. Nonetheless, there I was, on the ground, with my legs twisted up.
Here, I must insert a few things. First, I was not using roller blades, but roller skates. Roller blades are supposed to be safer, (although, I can't see how since they have a far narrower base). Roller skates are more like boots, and they lace up too. That, I was told, is not as safe. Second, I really didn't feel any pain whatsoever. I didn't really try to get up. In spite of feeling no pain, I knew somehow, that I wouldn't be able to get up. I think, however, that I did untwist myself. The next thing I heard was two other kids telling the guy-in-charge/coach-dude-or-something sitting nearby that 'it looked like something was wrong over there.
Mom was alerted, and I was carried off the rink. I still really didn't feel pain, but it must have been painful subconsciously because I cried. Our friend's friend's Mom turned out to be a nurse. She wanted to see my ankle, but I'm afraid that I was a little suspicious, not knowing her to be a nurse. I didn't want anybody to touch my ankle. I guess it really hurt. I imagine that it was so painful that it didn't register as being painful. It was an odd sensation.
The friend's friend's mom said I should be taken to the hospital. I was a little upset however, that mom took us home first, so she could call Dad and have Dad take me. At that point, I just wanted somebody to fix me; now.
When I finally got taken to the hospital, I discovered what everybody but me probably already knew. The 'emergency room' is not treated as an emergency but rather as a 'waiting room.' I waited for over an hour before someone came, and even after that, it was still another twenty minutes before the doctor came. (I meanwhile complained greatly about the subconscious pain and listened to the lady in the next partition telling her doctor about how she cut her finger.)
When the doctor came, he said something or other, looked at the x-rays, and then disappeared for another 20 minutes. When he came back, he was really puzzled. He came shaking his head. It turned out, that the break I had, was so rare, that he'd never heard of it; he was an under-doctor or something.
I had a CAT scan, and the upshot of it all was, that I had to have surgery. I know have a screw in my ankle. When I'm being silly, Dad jokes about having a 'screw loose.' The anesthesia was smelled like coconut. I was out like a light, but the sensation was more like drifting.
When I was in the recovery room, I came awake in a kind of dead way. I could hear everything, but my vision was a little blurry and my mind felt completely asleep. Everything except my hearing seemed to be out of focus and way in the distance. Even the things I heard, while I heard them clearly, seemed to be coming from far away.
Hospital people want recovering patients to eat and drink something before they are released. I however, was not hungry. The nurse, at her wits end, offered me unusual hospital food such as ice cream. I eventually was persuaded to try a tuna salad and lemon-lime sprite. It was actually pretty good.
They had given me so much pain killer that the day after surgery, I felt awesome, in spite of the inconvenient full-length splint, (later replaced with a full-length cast). That first day, I did school. The next day however, was a killer. I have a very high pain tolerance threshold, so when I say something, on a scale of 1-10, is 8, it usually means it's pretty painful.
I was on crutches with a full-length cast for 6 weeks, and a half-cast for another six weeks. I don't think it's necessary to say that Proverbs 16:18 really came home to me. "Pride goes before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall."
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