I Do My Own Stunts

For the Writer's Workshop this week, I chose prompt #4 Childhood memory. If you want to learn more about the workshop, visit Mama Kat.

My son has a shirt that says, "I do all my own stunts."  It suits him since he has already chipped a tooth and broken his nose.  Oh and then he hit himself in the head with a rock.  So this shirt definitely suits him.  Where does it come from?  His father?  Rich would laugh at that one.  Oh no, his mother is the guilty party.  Yes, I do all my own stunts.  And I have the x-rays and the glow to prove it.

When I was 5, I learned to skate.  I remember skating up and down our very long driveway.  I was so happy.  I could skate!  I had those metal wheels.  Yeah.  Old.   I skated every chance I got.  I wore through skates faster than shoes it seems.  I remember my first really cool pair of skates.  I bought them myself with my own hard earned money.  

 

Oh how I loved my skates.  I skated with friends and I skated with my sister.  She and I would do tricks.  We would skate down to the school and make our own Olympics.  We had to do certain tricks just like ice skaters.  I could skate backwards almost as well as forward.  I could jump off curbs at full speed.  Other things I did I would cringe to see my own kids do.  It was my favorite pass time.  About the only time I wasn't on skates was if it was raining or I was sick.  That was until one day when my sister and I went skating.  We skated to our usual haunt: the school.  When we got there, we decided to race.  It's what we did.  During that race, our wheels locked.  She stumbled a few feet forward and recovered quickly.  I went down and braced myself with my arms.  I remember screaming.  I remember crying all the way the home. And yes, I remember throwing my arms onto the table declaring, "I broke my arms!"  Dramatic?  Maybe a little but gosh darn it they hurt!

My brother and sister also do their own stunts.  And since they are older, my mom had the opportunity to see some ugly fractures.  U.G.L.Y.  So when I came home and flung my seemingly normal arms on the table, it didn't seem possible for them to be broken.  They were.  Both arms.  Both bones.  Same places.  It was an impacted fracture, where the bones are driven into each other causing them to buckle.  Not only was this the type of fracture I had, it was also in the growth line.  Our regular doctor was not even going to touch me.  He sent me to an orthopedic surgeon.  My arms are actually a little shorter than they should be.  Your wing span should match your height.  Mine is off by about 1/2 to 1 inch.

Despite the fact that I had two broken arms, I went to school every day.  I did my school work and homework.  My teacher was very happy when the casts came off because it meant she could read my work again.  It didn't matter that I broke my arms.  As soon as I got the all clear, I was back on my wheels doing the same tricks as before.  I loved skating.  I am not sure I could do it now without falling over.  Is skating like riding a bike?  If so, I should be safe.

  

And there I am looking bad working those casts!  I was 10.

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Picture of the Day

 
 

Yeah, he looks like he is going to sneeze.  But he was having a fit. Check out his puffed out chest.  He is the alpha-male.