Broken arms, broken dreams, I remember

I took care of a young boy last night who had broken his arm. He had been playing around, jumping on his bed and fell, landing so hard it snapped the bones in his arm. When I arrived to his hospital room it was obviously broken with its crooked apperance. When ever I am called in to set broken bones my heart and my mind go back to a place and time of when I broke my right ankle. I was 13 and was attending a school function. As I flew down the slide my feet planted on the ground and my right ankle snapped. I heard it and felt it. Nausea arrived. Sweat popped out on my skin. It became apparent I was hurt. After several hours of wondering if it was broken the verdict was in with the xray. As I sat in the wheelchair I cried. Tears from relief, pain, exhaustion, being anxious. As the nice, soft spoken bone doctor came over to speak to me, with my xray in hand, he explained to my mother that the break had gone through my growth plate. This could cause my right leg to be stunted in growth if I did not follow his orders correctly. I would need a cast and could not walk on my foot for 3 months. I remember my mother feeling faint as they applied the cast. I remember thinking how warm the cast felt and how perfectly the Dr. applied it. As we waited for it to dry, my Dr. once again went over my instructions. He wanted to make sure I really understood the importance of no weight being placed on my injured ankle. I was given crutches and out the door. Going to school became an effort with books, lockers, busy hallways and managing crutches. I had friends to help me, but sometimes I just had to make it on my own. There would be no basketball, no swimming, no horseback riding, no cheerleading, no running. I remember thinking was all of this worth it? Why couldn't I just have a walking cast like everybody else? The months passed slowly. I had sore armpits from crutches. Sore blisters on my hands. I lost 10 pounds carrying the extra weight of my cast. At the end of those 3 months I went back for a final follow-up xray and removal of the final cast. My Dr. came in and explained he wanted 3 more weeks of no weight bearing. He wanted that growth plate completely strong. I was devasated. I was crushed. I could not speak. I cried as the new cast was applied even more perfect than the last. I looked down at the ground as he instructed me once again. My cast finally came off. My leg floated as the cast was removed. My leg would continue its normal growth pattern. The growth plate had not been injured while weak. I missed out on activites that at the time seemed so important. I was hurt and unable to participate in many things. I struggled to maintain everyday events; however, I have two legs today that are the same in lenght. I am able to run, jump, walk, and work. Three months and three weeks. They don't seem long compared to a lifetime.