One time I was in elementary school and we was playing football and I was going out for a pass and, I dove for the football then I landed on my left knee and I had broken it .

Then they had to call my mom and my dad to come and get me and, take me to the hospital. It took at least an hour just to get inside to see a Doctor. Then it took at least another hour to get my leg casted up.

Then when i had gotten out of the doctor's office. I had to go home and rest but first i had to get up my 2 flight of stairs. The I could not get up the stairs and my dad or mom had to carry me up or down the stairs any time i needed something.

So when about 7 or 8 weeks pasted I had to go back to the doctor's office to get my cast cut off.
And the cool thing is the tool they have to cut the cast off it only cuts the cast and not the skin.
The doctor but his hand on the blade and it did not do nothing not even a scratch and i was not scared no more.

When I had gotten it off I was so happy i could finally walk and go up the stairs again.
My dad was also habby because, he did not have to carry me up and down no more.