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Scrapes and Stitches

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Even though it was 11 years ago I still remember it like it was yesterday. It was a warm breezy summer evening I was about five years old. At that time I didn’t have many friends to play with other then my neighbor Ryan who was also five. He lived right up the street from me. Ryan had just bought a brand new super soaker which I thought was the greatest toy ever especially on hot sweaty summer days. Since we weren’t old enough and didn’t have the freedom to use the hose, we pretended it had water in it. We decided to use the super soaker in a game of tag, and I was the one being chased.

After running around his yard constantly, I had the idea of running back to my house. I turned down the corner running full speed down the sidewalk as fast as my little legs could carry me. I was getting more and more tired, I was losing and catching my breath every step I took. “Just one more house” I told my self trying to get there before I got caught. I was so focused, as focused as a five year old could be to wanting to get home, that I wasn’t paying attention. The front tip of my sandal caught onto the crevice of the sidewalk and my legs gave out, I fell, right on my face it happened in a split second that I had no time to try to catch myself to make it less painful. I hit the ground with so much force that I skid a couple inches before I actually stopped. To make it even worse Ryan ran so fast after me that he couldn’t stop himself in time before falling on top of me. As I lay there, having some ones weight pressing me closer and closer to the sharp, gritty cement. As a few moments passed getting up Ryan realized the reality of what just happened, seeing me motionless laying face first on the ground. Panicking he ran home yelling at the top of his lungs “I killed Anna.”

As I got the strength to finally pull myself up off the ground. I felt a burning sensation all over my body and a cold liquid dripping down my face. I didn’t realize the horror till my mom came running out of the house from hearing my loud wails and screams. My moms face said it all; I thought to my self “this had to be bad”. I touched my face and all I saw was blood, and lots of it streaming down my face and leg. My mom franticly gets me, my sister who was eleven and my brother who was eight years old into the car and to the hospital as fast as possible. My sister was pressing damp towels on my face and leg as my brother was trying to comfort me while I was still crying. It felt like an eternity before we got to the hospital, but when we did they took me back right away since I lost and was losing so much blood. Between my face and knee I got 18 stitches that day. Even though it was 11 years ago I still have a scare above my right eyebrow.

From this experience I’ve learned to be more cautious when it comes to life because I never want to have that ever happen again. I have also realized that I never want to go into the medical profession; because blood grosses and freaks me out.



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