The Day I Broke My Finger

Arron Philip

Christmas was just a couple of weeks away and I had never been so excited. I was getting everything I wanted and more and I love my grans Christmas Dinner. A hot, golden turkey with Yorkshire puddings and meaty gravy with carrots and brussel sprouts. The traditional Christmas Dinner.

I was outside in the street playing hide and seek with all my friends. It was freezing and there was snow slowly falling from the sky and settling onto the ground. We were all having a great time, not caring that it was 11 o'clock at night and we were all laughing and shouting at the top of our lungs. We didn't care if we woke someone up. We were all enjoying ourselves too much. Suddenly, as I was running to den as fast as I could before I was caught my legs gave way beneath me and I dropped to the floor. I fell to the cold, frosty concrete with a crack. As I landed on the ground my hand got stuck beneath me and my right index finger was pushed the wrong way. I opened my eyes and got up. My mind was spinning with confusion. So many questions wanting to be asked, all of them pushing past the other to be the first. I looked around for the cause of my fall. Then I saw an icy puddle. Completely frozen over. Is that what caused me to fall?

My friends rushed over to me to see if I was okay. I told them I was fine, but that was a lie. My finger was aching. The pain seemed to be like a pulse, coming and going but not stopping. I wondered if it was broken. It could be. It was a nasty fall and my finger was pushed back the wrong way by my whole body weight. I decided to go in. I waved goodbye to my friends and told them it was too cold for me. The truth was that I wanted to make sure my finger was okay and it was not too cold for me. I went in and happily said to my dad, 'Hi dad, how are you? By the way, I think I've broke my finger.' A pleasant surprise for him. He had a look at it. It had actually swollen up a bit. I hadn't noticed that outside in the dark. I told him about the fall and how sore it was. He told me too wrap a cold wet towel around it and leave it for a while and then check if the swelling had went down. I did as I was told and waited. I saw that my jeans were ripped. Fantastic! Not only do I need a doctor but I need a tailor.

I waited for about 20 minutes and then unwrapped the towel and took it off my finger. The swelling hadn't stopped and now it looked like a big pork sausage. I told my dad and he told me to get in the car. We were going to the hospital.

The journey took about 15 minutes. It was dark and as we left the street I saw my friends walking around. In a way I was excited. It was my first broken bone. Something to show off about too all my friends and siblings who had broke bones and had serious casualties. Nothing I suppose compared to broken ribs and being knocked out by a baseball in the face. As I sat in the passengers seat gazing out the window at the cars and people whizzing by, I then realized that it was a Saturday night. There would probably be a lot of people in A&E with injuries from pub fights and stuff like that.

Eventually we made it to the hospital. My finger was even more painful than before and it was still swollen. The hospital looked eerie at night. All the lights were on and the windows were lit up but the building was dark and sinister looking. The tall chimney was puffing smoke high into the bitter night air. We walked into the A&E waiting room and took a seat. My dad told the receptionist my name and why we were here. I felt silly. I was here with a broken finger and people kept coming in with bloody noses and black eyes or women going into labour. My injury now seemed minor compared with the casualties and problems of others. We waited, and waited, and waited until eventually my name was called out. I was taken away to a room. I felt like I was being called out of death row and taken to the electric chair. I was so nervous. What was going to happen? I was told to take a seat in a small dark room with machinery everywhere. Hospitals were so modern nowadays. I hadn't been in a hospital in years. The doctor told me to sit my hand on the table and she pulled a big contraption out from the cupboard. The machine hovered over my hand and suddenly a red beam shot out from it and scanned my hand. It was like being in a James Bond movie or something. Then I went back to the waiting room where I waited, and waited, and waited.

After about an hour and a half a doctor came over to us and broke the news to me. My finger was broken. Great! I came all the way here and waited for hours just to get told something I already knew. My broken finger was strapped together with my middle finger with for the first few days felt rather uncomfortable, but I got used to it. I had to miss out on P.E. and swimming and dodge ball and writing was difficult. When the bandage was removed I was so glad. My finger was bruised and bent but I didn't care. I missed playing dodge ball.