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The Incident of Third Grade
Everyone was talking and walking out of Room 31, down the gray ramp with blue railings going to the playground. It was Fun Friday day, we all would go outside at the end of the day on Friday and would get to play for thirty minutes. I was walking out of the classroom wearing my favorite pink t-shirt with sequins and a pair of black shorts. I was eight years old and loved playing sports especially tetherball.
My friends and I were waiting in line for tetherball. It is a game where there are two people on the court and they try to hit the ball and wrap it around the pole. There are a lot of rules and some are complicated but I had them nailed down. It was my turn to go onto the court. I served, the ball was high in the sky, and then my opponent hit the ball back. I could hear the screaming, shouting, and jumping in the background, which made me lose focus. The ball came and BAM, I hit the ball so hard that it almost broke off the rope. I was an excellent player for someone that was eight years old, but the person I was playing against was better than me, so she jumped high into the sky and slammed the ball to the other side of the court. She was much taller than me, but was in the same grade as me.
The tetherball was really hard, so when someone hit the ball it hurt their hand. As I was hitting my last shot, jumped up high in the sky and as I was hitting the ball heard something unusual, CRAAAAACCCCCCK. I was thinking, What is that noise that I just heard. Did anyone else hear it? I wonder what happened.” I realized that my hand had bent backwards that made my bone to break. At just at that second, my right hand started aching. The pain was unbearable; I thought my hand broke off. I thought to myself, What the heck just happened to my hand? The pain was just like my hand got ran over a car. I was wincing in pain, but I didn’t want to tell anyone because it was embarrassing. I thought my hand was aching because the ball was very hard, but I was wrong.
As the pain started to grow, I couldn’t take it anymore. I quickly finished the game by hitting the ball so hard that my opponent couldn’t hit back. Even though hitting the last shot hurt my hand dearly, I was desperate to win against her. Then, I walked towards the grass and sat on the benches near the grass and finally saw what was wrong. I thought to myself, What is wrong? Nothing like this has ever happened to me. Maybe I just got a bruise or something. I waited for a couple of minutes, but the pain just kept on growing. Soon, I wasn’t even able to move it. I continued to play because I didn’t know what was going on with my hand. I couldn’t play with my right hand, so I didn’t know what to do. My hand was green and purple, double the size of my left hand, and I couldn’t do anything about it. My palms were sweating and my head was hurting from thinking too much. As I was walking out of school, I was wincing in pain.
I was holding my right hand with my left hand, with my backpack on my shoulders and my dad walking in front of me. Finally when it was time to go home, my dad came to pick me up after school. I didn’t want to tell my parents that I had hurt my hand because that would create a lot of tension in the house. I was thinking, What if Dad gets mad at me for getting hurt? What if he doesn’t believe me? What if he thinks I’m stupid, careless, and irresponsible? Oh no what do I do? Oh I know, I just won’t tell anyone about it, maybe it’ll become better in a couple of hours. As the thoughts were roaming in my head I was also wondering, while walking out of school, What if the pain doesn’t go away? How am I going to tell Mom and Dad? How are they going to react? My brain was filling up with so many questions which was making me lose focus and making me dizzy.
I said, “ Let’s go home,” when we reached the silver Honda. We walked to the car and drove home. I didn’t tell my parents for one hour and thirty minutes, but as I was opening the kitchen cabinet for a snack my mom saw my green and purple, double the sized hand. She was just staring at me like I was a monkey in her house. As she walked towards we she said, “Avni let me see your hand.”
I asked, “ Why do you want to see my hand, nothing is wrong with it?” She grabbed my hand carefully took a look at it. My hand was aching too much to even try to yank it away. I thought she was going to be so mad at me for hurting it, but instead she was startled and worried at what was going on. She looked down, put her hands on her hips and started to think, what to do. Then, she asked me, “What happened?” Her eyes were wide open and her face looked surprised like she had never seen a green and purple hand before. I said, “ Well… Ummm…” I didn’t want to get her worried and pay attention to me. “I kinda hurt my hand while playing at school,” I said hesitantly. She dragged me to the couch and said, “ Sit down and I will get you an ice pack.” I was sat on the couch with my ice pack, while my parents were dialing the number to the hospital. My eyes were wide open, I didn’t want my parents to call the doctors, it made me feel desperate. I was thinking, What are they going to talk about on the phone? If I hurt it, can I maybe get some ice cream? My parents said on the phone, “My daughter hurt her hand while playing a game at school and its green and purple.”
The doctor said, “Can I please talk to your daughter about her hand?”
“The doctor wants to talk to you about your finger.” my dad said softly
I was sitting there with my ice pack, looking down and wondering about what she would ask, and said, “Yeah, okay but what do I say.”
My dad said, “Well you need to tell her how you got hurt and how it looks like.” And there I was sitting on the brown couch. With the ice pack clenched in one hand and the phone in the other, talking to the doctor. I told her, “My right hand is much bigger than the other, my fingers are almost double the size of my other fingers, and I can’t move it at all. When I try to move my hand, it just gives me more pain.” She told me to hand the phone back to my parents. Then, she was talking to my parents about what was wrong and then my parents told me, “We need to go to the hospital so then the doctors can take a look at your hand.”I thought, OMG what if something has happened to my hand?
We quickly got into the car and drove to the hospital. Once my family and I reached the hospital, the doctor quickly called us in and we went inside. She looked at my hand and immediately said, “It’s broken...” Afterwards, the doctor took us to the casting room and I got my cast on, which was green. We finally went home and continued on with the day. Ten weeks later I got my cast off and I could finally move and play with my right hand once again. I knew that from now on I had to be more careful about my choices at school and what I do about it. If had told my parents earlier then I would only have to keep the cast on for six weeks.