Welcome to Throwback Thursday!
When I was 5, I broke my leg.
|I was a little girl in undies - give me a break!|
Do you know what a backstop is? Imagine the tall fence behind you when you're up to bat. They're all over school parks and are commonly used for kickball during recess. Now imagine one backstop in particular. I guarantee you've seen it before. It's right across the street from the University Mall at that elementary school. It's the one in the corner next to the big marquis/businesses.
And yes, for those of you who have been fortunate enough to ride with me past that spot, you know exactly where that is. :)
It was a nice April morning and my best friend and I had gone to the park. We played a game where we would climb up the backstop to the first bar (maybe 5 feet high) and then jump off. Well, I got brave. I climbed ALL the way to the top, and even went on the part where it bends over. That is brave! I started back down, and felt my foot hit a bar. The first bar? Ok! And I jumped. And I knew that that wasn't the first bar. And I also knew that if I landed on my arms, I would break them. Badly.
Instead, I broke my leg. Badly. My right femur broke right in two. I went straight to UVRMC in an ambulance where they put me out and did surgery. Good old Dr. Schow. I woke up with my leg in traction (a giant pin through my knee and up in a sling) and had to stay that way for about a week. We had to cut my underwear and pin it on. And the food was so good. I also made a friend. His name was Cody and he would come visit me in his wheelchair.
My last day in the hospital, they put me out again, removed the pin, and put a giant spica cast on me. (Too bad I couldn't find my better pictures. Those ones must be at my parents.) I stayed that way for a couple weeks, I believe. I got my own bed set up in the living room! I also got a wheelchair! And my own bottle of chewable grape-flavored children's Tylenol!
They removed my stabilizing stick in the middle (B) and that allowed me a little more freedom with which I used to scoot around on my bum on the ground. Afterward, they removed the cast (to all my ortho friends: I screamed. I screamed and screamed and screamed. Don't you just love those little buggars!), and I got crutches! My mom couldn't afford physical therapy, so every night after my bath, she would bend my leg for me. To which I also screamed and screamed and screamed.
To this day, my right leg is still smaller than my left. It is ever-so-slightly shorter, and there is a difference in my calves when compared side-by-side. I also have two pinhole scars on either side of my knee that are so common to me that sometimes I look at my left knee and wonder why there aren't scars there either.
So word to the wise: Don't climb tall fences.