Having the cast has been an interesting experience overall. For instance, people I have no idea who they are, well maybe I saw them a couple times in the hall or in the lunch line, ask me what happened, and that's all an' good. After all, its not like that happens to me everday, at least before I broke my arm. However, I do believe I would have preferred to have a whole arm. Anyway, my story. I go to the library and get nods from just about everyone who is in the highschool age bracket. New experience. Nifty too. I am super-well-known simply because I was a moron and hit a massive ramp at a very high velocity on ice. How cool is that?
People ask what left means, as if it has some deeper meaning than my not being able to remember right from left. Then the unusual questions inevitably come, like "What if you stick something in there and you can't get it out?" I dunno. "Does it itch?" frequently What happened? broke my arm, hel-lo. How? That cynical response is always followed by How? Pressure in excess of the strength of the bone resulted in the bone snapping in three as a reaction. Rarely do the snide comments continue after that, because most people start looking like they are going to hurt me. So, I tell them how I went down that steep iced slope, and hit the highest part of a ramp at the bottom. Right before I hit it, I notice this 4-5 ft. or so ramp, is more like a wall than your typical incline. At this point, I start second guessing my decision. As I started my long climb into the air, it seemed my board was interested in attempting a backflip. My board never has been very smart. Even before I completely cleared the ramp, my board was above my head, showing this flight was doomed before take-off. I quickly reached my peak, the whole thing went rather fast. After all, this was similiar to my other attepts at jumps, simply at a larger scale.
On my way down, I begin to brace for impact. The backside of the hill was about three feet lower than the front side, so I was falling an absolute minimum of 11 vertical ft. Considering basic priciples of physics, my 4.5 ft board clearing the hill with ease, and witnesses saying I got "big air," vertical fall was at least 15 ft. Anywho, my method of bracing for impact involved me sticking my eblow out to ensure that it was the first and sole receiver of that initial impact. So almost halfway through my first backflip, I wreck. My arm is sore, along with my back, head, rear, legs, yada yada. (This is were most listeners start rolling their eyes and act like they have someplace to go. Of course this only encourages me the more.)
I recount to those listening about how I tried to get up, and not everything seems to be working. I try to push myself up, and I'm not moving much. At this point I look to the apparent culprit, a sore tired upper arm, and realize it is not in a normal position. Thinking "wow, this is one crash I can tell my table about at liuch tommorow," (yes I am a bit dense sometimes) I try to move it, and it is doing a less than satisfactory job of that. So I start screaming for help, at this point I realized something is broken, some people come down, get me up, and find me a cell-phone. Call my dad and say, "hi dad my arm's broke, come pick me up." I think I surprised him by my matter-of-fact tone. So off to the hospital I go, in excruciating pain. The nurses there obviously saw my pain, so I only had a 30 minute wait in the waiting room.
I go in the emergency room, and the nurses need to draw blood. Grand, my arm's broke and all they can think of doing is sticking needles in me that don't have drugs. At this point I was pale, my face matched my soon-to-be added cast, and I do mean that very literally. So its *poke*, pull, darn. This procedure is repeated several times, and I'm getting irritated. The nurse says she can't find a vein, seems I have too much muscle. Well, considering no one has ever told me I have too much muscle, I let the excessive poking slide. A few more pokes, and they move to my hand. I lost count of the attempts around nine, and that was when they were still on my elbow. They started joking about trying my neck Ha ha, hmmm. Not the type of humor I was looking for really. They poked for literally 30 minutes, and if they had kept count, I am positive I would have the record for the most dry pokes. Finally they pull some blood out, so its off to the opiates. Thing was my veins were so tight from shock and cold that the drug burned as it coursed through my body. Grand fun.
Anyway I had a point