April 8th, 2021 - October 8th, 2021

“Ok, fine you can skip practice,” My mom shouts over the din of the vacuum cleaner. “But I want to see you do something outside at least.” She adds. I am surprised my mom let me skip, but I still have to do something outdoors. Still better than practice. I turn on my heels and head for my phone. I text Paxton to see if he wants to come over, since he lives on my street. Paxton replies in seconds, which was unusual for him. It normally takes 3 hours and two missed calls to get him to check his phone. 

He texts back, “Sure, what do you want to do?” 

I responded with, “I don’t know, we could go on my neighbor’s trampoline. I think they’re out of town but if not we can just go with them.” 

“Ok, do you want me to invite Maddox, he wanted to hang out.” Paxton asks.

 I say, “Sure, why not.” I stand up from the couch, and walk across our new carpet to my kitchen, and I look out the window above the sink. I check and see if my neighbors are home, and their garage is open which means they are. Almost fifteen minutes later, I hear a loud knock at my door. Paxton is finally here. We head into the backyard, the warm spring air rustling through the new-found leaves, creating a calming cadence, putting my mind at ease. The scent of pollen and rosebuds comes drifting through the air. I breathe deep, the smells are like a warm hug, as I still had winter on my mind. The tall stand that we used to ride a zip line off of still remains, the only remnants of last summer. Over the winter, the line snapped, and there is no longer much to do in my backyard, other than swinging in the hammocks or playing basketball in the driveway. Paxton and I end up playing basketball in my driveway, I have a hoop attached to my garage. I get Paxton to H-O-R in Horse, but Maddox arrives, so we quit, calling it a draw. My neighbors open their back door, making the all too-familiar slamming noise. I did not want to deal with how obnoxious they were, the older brother doesn’t let his sister win at anything, and his sister always cries. My neighbors are 7 and 5, the oldest being Heistand and the youngest, Carrie. Maddox didn’t want to go on the trampoline for some weird reason, so he stood outside and was the referee for whatever game we played. Eventually, they got bored, and Heistand and Carrie head inside for dinner. Their dad came out and was cleaning up some toys while we were on the trampoline. Paxton and I were tired of double bouncing each other, and he wanted to practice some football tackles. I said ok, only because we were on the trampoline and I wouldn’t get hurt. Little did I know. Eventually, the tackles escalated to a full-scale wrestling match, and Maddox was refereeing. I had Paxton pinned directly across from me, with the trampoline’s walls about 4 feet away from his back. I charge, tackling him and wrapping my arms around his back. As we flew through the air, I knew that something bad would happen. With an audible sound, we both fly to the ground of the trampoline, the springs squealing like a rusty hinge. I hear a loud and deep snap, and I immediately pull back, looking at my arms, seeing if I am hurt. Instantly, I realize that I had broken my arm. So many things flash through my mind.Our combined body weight pressed on it so hard both bones snapped and it was twisted at an awful 75º angle. I felt an adrenaline rush so intense I almost black out. Paxton was still in shock, gawking at my mangled arm. 

I quietly said, “I broke my arm.” 

I kept repeating it, louder and louder, like I was trying to bring myself back into reality. “This isn’t happening,” I think to myself. “This doesn’t happen to me, this only happens in movies.” I feel my mind surge with uncontrollable thoughts of the days to come, the thoughts of surgeries, a cast, constant pain, missing out on summer. It's too much as reality sets in. I'm dreaming, I have to be. This isn’t happening. “Beckett, wake up from this, please.”  I plead with myself as I struggle to form words and get my limbs to move. I’m frozen in place, a thousand-yard stare lies on my face, as if I’m staring at the end of the world.  Paxton is still staring in awe at my arm, and I force myself to move. Seeing him doing nothing snaps my mind back in. 

I pull myself out of the trance and start saying, “MOVE!” Maddox is seeing all this and asks if he should call. I end up saying no, because I am unsure if it's the right move. Paxton still won’t let me off, he has to get his shoes on because he doesn’t want to get his socks wet. I was getting frustrated and scared, but Paxton eventually moves and I walk towards my house, with my crooked arm swinging with every step, causing dull, scary pain. My neighbor Brad sees my arm and runs over. He lets me lean on him and guides me to my back door. 

I walk in and shout, “Mom! I broke my arm!” I sit down at the dining room table and almost pass out. The adrenaline is so strong, I feel like I’m gonna black out. We call an ambulance but I can’t even hear my mom on the phone, even though she is sitting at the table with me. I feel so tired and frail, like a dried up leaf after being stepped on. My mind is in shambles, going a mile a minute and coming to a halt the next. I want to lay on the couch and sleep but my speech is so slurred all I can focus on is the pain and the crooked angle my arm is bent at. A car eventually arrives, but it is a policeman who lets us know the ambulances are delayed because they were washing them. It feels like ages ago when we called. Why are they taking so long to get here? Finally I hear the sirens coming down the hill by my house, and I know I’ll be at the hospital soon. The knock at the door startles me out of my adrenaline high and suddenly I am awake. The men come in and they have nothing with them, they just sit down and talk to my mom. What is happening? Can’t they see my arm? They slowly walk over to the table and ask me some questions, like when is my birthday and if I’m allergic to anything. One of the medics goes and gets a splint to wrap my arm in. He comes back in and I brace for the pain. He has to cut my watch off of my arm because I cannot get it off of my wrist due to my arm being bent. He slides a hard, cold piece of metal underneath my arm and lifts it up. My head is flooded with pain, it's all I can feel, all I can see. My vision goes blood red and I start to slump forward. My dad catches my shoulders and holds me still as the medic slides another piece of metal on top, and wraps them together. I see red and I want to hit the medic. It hurts so bad. They ask if I want some pain medication, and I say yes. They come in with nasal spray Fentanyl, and give me two sprays in my nose. It does nothing. I still feel the dull ache, with random spikes with excruciating, intolerable, pain. The medic helps me up and walks me to my front door, where they have a stretcher to wheel me to the ambulance.My arm feels as if it is being broken over and over again with every step. I get into the ambulance and head towards the hospital. I receive more fentanyl on the ride, it again, has no effect. We arrive at the hospital and the smell of medicine and alcohol wipes hits me like a wave, overwhelming my mind. I get wheeled out of the ambulance into the ER. I lay on my stretcher while they figure  out what to do with me. We need to get x-rays done, they begin wheeling me there. The ceiling becomes a blur and I lose track of the world and start to drift into the subconscious as the fentanyl kicks in. We come to a stop, and that launches my mind out of its stupor, suddenly alert and awake. I sit up and immediately feel sick. My head feels as if there was a personal thunderstorm in my skull. I feel nauseous and groggily start walking into the X-ray room, as I am guided onto the bed, a towering machine being held above it. I see a metal table with an X in the center and place my arm on it. The technician comes over and explains to me how I need to twist my arm to get a clear X-ray. The pain is too much, but I have to do it anyway. My vision swims as I grab and rotate my shattered arm so the top faces the machine. I grind my teeth and I feel my face start to heat up, hoping I’m not groaning much, the pain deafens my ears. I hear an audible beep and I release my arm. The relief flows through my mind like a leaf floating down a river. The second X-ray doesn’t hurt at all, I barely have to twist my arm. The results are bad. I broke both bones and small pieces of bone were fractured and floating in my arm. They say that we have to get it set very quickly. It was around 7 pm and I went into the trauma ward to receive more medicine and to take my vitals. They give me ketamine through an IV, and my body responds horribly. I can’t focus my eyes and I feel nauseous. I feel the bile rising in my throat like a volcano about to erupt. The nurse sees me and brings a vomit bag over, and I puke into it. I feel awful, but a lot better after puking. They eventually get me out of the trauma ward and into a room, to wait for an orthopedic doctor to come look at my arm and reset it. It was 6:42 pm when I got to the hospital, but it’s now almost 9:00. We have to stay in that room for over another hour before the doctor comes. The doctor, and 4 nurses come into the small cramped room, forcing my parents to leave, making me completely alone. Most of the ketamine was out of my system, so they have me more through the IV, enough to make me completely go under. My consciousness is like waves on the shore, coming in and out, bringing more unique visions and sights with every one. My vision moves so much I think I’m being wheeled out of the room I was in, as all I can see is the ceiling. There is a plug on the ceiling that resembles SpongeBob to me in my half-awake state. The doctor and nurses fly in and out of my vision like bats flying overhead. The whole time when I am half-conscious, I feel an intense, insurmountable burning sensation in my broken arm, which I assume is the doctor pulling it apart and setting it back together. And then suddenly, its over. The bright lights dim and two people I recognize walk into the room. I don’t know exactly who they are, but I recognize them and feel like I should know them. It hits me, they must be my parents. I am completely conscious now, but I cannot rest. I can’t sit up and my arm has this odd, dull ache, from a long-forgotten injury. My memory returns and I remember what happened and why my arm is wrapped up. I still can’t focus my eyes, which is the most frustrating part of the whole ordeal. Being able to talk coherently and think with clarity but still not being able to focus on something, I can still see it, but can’t tell what it is. My mind is reaching for something my eyes cannot perceive, creating this awful conflict in my head. I lay for hours, starving, not being able to sit up or focus, and I kept asking for some water and my chair to be propped up a little. The nurses won’t let this happen because I still have some ketamine in my body, which could cause me to puke when I sit up or eat anything. Eventually, a woman walks in and gives me some crackers and water, and lets me sit up for a little while before we get discharged. As I walk out of the hospital, I can hear the cries of children in pain in the ER, I see the cancer patients in their rooms, living in a world of hurt, and I suddenly become very grateful that I only broke my arm. This whole experience taught me that even though I got hurt in a pretty bad and traumatizing way, I have it a lot better than everyone else. From that day on, I have seen life in a different frame of mind, and have started to take less things for granted, like my health, and being able to do things, like biking, without any struggle. After that Thursday in April, it took me eight months to recover. 

It was long and hard, with doctors saying, “I might not be able to play sports again,” or “You’re going to have to get a metal plate put in your arm until the bone heals,” and even, “You are gonna need surgery if that bone doesn’t stop drifting.” It was so scary to have surgery lying at the door at our once a week hospital visits. It was a hard recovery, but in October, I finally took my brace off for the last time.