Tales That Tell Of Days Like These - My Memorable Day

Sarah Stanley

My favourite season is winter. It is by far the prettiest and although the coldest, the presents make up for the dire weather conditions. I especially love the town at Christmas time. The smells of the spices coming form the German Market. The laughter and sometimes screams coming from the big wheel. The great times that you share with friends and family at Winter Wonderland. Although, I'm not sure that I will ever think of Winter Wonderland in the same way again.

It was only two years ago, and although I have broken many bones before down to my own carelessness, this time I can truly say that it wasn't my fault.

I had been ice-skating with my sister one day in the holidays. Although 1 love her very much, she can be a bit too over-protective. 1 know it's only because she wants to make sure that I am safe, and because if she brought me home broken in any way she would be in huge amounts of trouble, but it can be very annoying. I can't do anything slightly risky (or fun). I knew that if I could talk my Dad into going skating with me, I would have loads more fun. Also, I wouldn't have to be super-glued to him constantly unlike when I am out with my sister, Helen. This maybe sounds as though my Dad does not really care but I think it is more that my sister cares too much! So, one day after lunch, Dad and I got in the car and drove to Princes Street Gardens. I remember waiting in line to get my boots and feeling really excited about getting on the ice. After I had pulled on my boots, I had to wait for what seemed like a lifetime until I could get onto the rink because, just as we arrived, the people in charge of the ice rink decided to clean and smooth the surface with the Zamboni.

I was having great fun and was just about to move into the middle of the rink to try to spot my Dad who was very cautiously groping his way around the edge. I remember that one minute I was standing looking for Dad and the next I was flat on my back; I had been knocked over by a speed-skater. All I could think about was the pain in my wrist and the fact that I could not move it. I recognised the signs immediately. I had broken my wrist before when I had fallen off some stilts and hit my arm off my hamster's cage. Dad practically ran me off the ice rushing me into the "First Aid" portakabin.

There were two fairly young medical students in the portakabin who asked my Dad to fill in a form and they bandaged my wrist. They told us that this happened quite often and that someone had once had his fingers severed by an ice-skating boot blade. Although my wrist was strapped up, I still had to go to Sick Kids. As we walked back to the car, we called my Mum and my sister. We explained what had happened and said that we probably would not be home for some time. I felt really terrible. I was sure that I had ruined Christmas for the whole family.

At Sick Kids I retold my story for the umpteenth time and was given some paracetamol. I had an X-ray and I had to wait until it was developed. Eventually I was taken into a cubicle by a nurse who told me that I had badly broken my wrist quite badly. I was taken to the plaster room and they let me choose what colour I wanted. It was Christmas so I decided to go for red.

On the morning of Christmas Eve I went to the church nativity play. Lots of people asked what had happened and sympathised with me because I was "sick" over the holidays. As my wrist was so badly broken, it was excruciatingly painful. I had so many painkillers inside of me that I could not feel anything except sick and sleepy. However, when they wore off my fingers felt funny. They were tingling but still felt a bit numb. They were also a funny purple-blue colour. My Dad took me back to Sick Kids. I had to get my plaster cast cut down the middle because it was cutting off the blood supply to my hand and fingers. It took a few hours but eventually my hand began to feel more normal again.

Having a broken wrist made Christmas a bit tricky. I needed help to open my presents especially the ones in my stocking. Everything took twice as long. I could not even eat Christmas dinner without help and my Dad and my Uncle Charlie had to cut up my food for me. I felt about two years old.

Eventually my wrist healed and it feels as good as new most of the time. Although occasionally I do get the odd twinge and the doctor said that it is very possible that I will suffer from a touch of arthritis when I am older. I might have second thoughts if anyone offers to take me skating again.