Memory Monday & 5 Broken Arms

Yes. Five. Which is weird being that I only have two arms.

Broken arm #1. I was five. It was a dark and stormy night. Well, that might be an exaggeration, it was actually a bright and sunny afternoon. My cousins were in town and we had all decided to go to the park. Teeter-Totters were all the rage when I was a kid. Remember those? You never see them any more.

Picture this. Two kids on one side, two kids on the other side. Teeter-tottering.
I happen to be the kid holding on to my cousins waist. He falls, catches himself with his foot, but hence the waist grip, I fall, don't catch myself and land on the rock hard concrete below. Okay, another exaggeration. It was actually the lawn.

I must have landed weird because my arm felt funny. I look at it. There was a rock stuck in my arm! I must have landed on a rock! Gross!!

"Pull it out! Pull it out!" I yell and scream frantically. My cousin, older and stronger of course, pulls and pulls. He was strong. He was like eight, but he rode a motorcycle which totally freaked me out!

Then, the rock moved back inside my arm. That's when I realized it was my bone. Ehhh, gross. I pass out.

A helpful tourist getting my mother, an ambulance ride, and one straight jacket later, I was in the hospital for surgery and a weekend stay over Easter crying because I knew the fat bunny wouldn't find me in room 315.

Broken arm #2. Remember those electrical spools that the utility company would use then leave laying around? How come they don't do that any more? Remember how kids used to roll them over on their sides and walk on the middle as it rolls? Hence broken arm #2.

Funny thing, my parents didn't believe it was broke. I remember going to bed that night because it was throbbing so bad, I couldn't sleep! All I could do was cry. I was 11 and was starting the sixth grade. Finally the next day, after more complaining and crying they must have finally believed me took me to the doc. They felt really bad when they x-ray came back and I got major sympathy for days.

Broken arm #3. The end of sixth grade.

Now, you may be asking, How does a picture like this result in a broken arm? Oh, let me tell you! Do you see the long, heavy, death-defying steel beam that it has hanging from that tiny little chain? Yeah, if you had the choice, would you want to walk around it, or under it? I wanted to walk around it, the only path was to walk under it. Like as if! So I decided to walk around a construction truck to my destination. Well on the other side of the truck was a bunch of construction debris. Little stuff like more steel, tools, blah, blah, construction blah. I tripped. Broken arm #3 and as an extra bonus, I cut my leg really bad and had to have it all stitched up.

Broken arm #4. We used to have a truck that looked just like this to haul garbage out of the family business. I had to drive it. It was a beast with tricky clutch.

I was 16. We called it Bruno. I liked it until the fatty broke my arm! It was very simple. Get in the truck. Drive. Get out of the truck. Not much to it right? Well one day as I was on the getting out part, I push open the door and the door hits the hinges with force, and springs back at me before I was completely out of the way. It jams 3 of my fingers backwards and gives me broken arm #4.

Broken arm #5. I am just realizing that this is the only normal way I have broken my arm. It was really simple. Roller blades, big hill.

The part that really ticked me off is that I was 19 years old and in beauty school. wouldn't you know it, those instructors kicked me out of beauty school for having a broken arm! Okay, another exaggeration. They postponed my starting date.

On another Memory Monday I will talk about the Electrocution and getting stitches in my tongue. Yeah. Good Times.