And the pain was tremendous...
Welcome my friends to another edition of Flashback Friday. In today's edition I deal with something we all felt as a child. Pain. Other than getting beat up daily by Sir Gattabout and having my tonsils taken out, I didn't have a lot of physical pain as a child. That came to an end on night at the skating rink.
Going to the skating rink was a common thing for our school to do in early spring. The fifth & sixth grades were in a small building across the playground from the rest of the school, so they would go together for a skating party. We had no rink in the small town where I grew up in. The closest rink was 30 minutes away. Generally the parties were on Friday night, so we could stay out a little longer.
Now, think back to fifth grade ( you are now 10 or 11 years old). The boys and girls were not the best of friends then. There was a mutual tormenting society going on in my school. During the skating parties, whenever a girl fell down, all of the guys would holler. When a guy fell, the girls cheered.
Getting back to skating, I never really learned how to skate. My version of skating (this was before Rollerblades) consisted of using my right toe stop to push myself and coasting until I was almost at a stop. Repeat several times. My left foot was immobile. I was afraid to move both feet, for fear of falling. I hugged the wall constantly. My dad, on the other hand, used to jump barrels on roller skates. But that's another story for another time.
During the skating there were all skates (where everyone could skate), couple skate (boy & girl or two girls) trio skates (two boys & a girl, two girls & a boy or three girls) girls only and boys only. The limbo and hokey poky were also played. There was also snack bar where I hung out mostly.
During the "boys only skate" the girls began chanting "Fall, Fall, Fall" When a boy did oblige, a tremendous cheer went up. The noise level was about the same as standing behind a jet during takeoff. On my second lap around the rink, I went down, hard. A great cheer rose in the air. But when I didn't get back up, it grew very quiet. The skating refs skated over to help me up, but I couldn't put any weight on my right ankle. It hurt worse than anything my brother had ever put me through. They packed it with ice until my parents came to pick me up.
The next day (Saturday) we went to the family doctor. Emergency room were for emergencies like heart attacks and severed limbs. The doctor took x-rays and told Dad that my ankle bone was hanging together by a tiny piece, and he could give it a quick twist, break it completely, and set me in a cast. I hadn't been on this earth for long, but a doctor wanting to break your leg was unheard of (at least by me). I pleaded with Dad not to let him do it. Finally the doctor wrapped my ankle in an Ace bandage and told me that I would have to stay off of it for six weeks. He wanted me to spend the first week at home, and I would be on crutches at school for the next five. He would check me again after that.
Staying home for a week was cool. My teacher sent home the work that we would be doing in class, and left me her phone number in case I had any questions. Sir Gattabout had to do all of my chores (oh yeah), and Dad put a cement block under one end of the couch to keep my foot elevated. I stayed on the couch for a week, taking meals there and sleeping there also.
When I went back to school, the kids were amazed that I didn't have a cast. Some of them thought I was making the whole thing up. I had to sit and watch the others in gym. At lunch, my cousin carried my lunch for me to the table. Recess was the pits.
After six weeks we went back to the doctor. He took another set of x-rays and didn't like what he saw. He told Dad that the bone had knitted, but slightly askew. He said I may have trouble with it in the future.
I don't know if it was in my mind, or a result of the injury, but every time I put on a pair of roller skates after that, I got a terrible case of shin splints in my right leg. I didn't skate too much after that , and haven't had a pair of skates on my feet for close to 20 years. Sometimes I'm tempted to try a pair of Rollerblades, but after two knee surgeries (one on each knee), The voice of reason triumphs. I don't care to have another "Oops".
You can read of other people's "oops" at "My Tiny Kingdom's Flashback Friday carnival. How about you, did you ever have an "Oops"?
P.S.
To my faithful Flashback Friday readers: I have recounted to you tales of "Aunt Shelly" & "Uncle Phil". Within two weeks of each other, they have passed from this life. Please keep their kids, grand kids, great grand children and the rest of the family in your thoughts and prayers.
Welcome my friends to another edition of Flashback Friday. In today's edition I deal with something we all felt as a child. Pain. Other than getting beat up daily by Sir Gattabout and having my tonsils taken out, I didn't have a lot of physical pain as a child. That came to an end on night at the skating rink.
Going to the skating rink was a common thing for our school to do in early spring. The fifth & sixth grades were in a small building across the playground from the rest of the school, so they would go together for a skating party. We had no rink in the small town where I grew up in. The closest rink was 30 minutes away. Generally the parties were on Friday night, so we could stay out a little longer.
Now, think back to fifth grade ( you are now 10 or 11 years old). The boys and girls were not the best of friends then. There was a mutual tormenting society going on in my school. During the skating parties, whenever a girl fell down, all of the guys would holler. When a guy fell, the girls cheered.
Getting back to skating, I never really learned how to skate. My version of skating (this was before Rollerblades) consisted of using my right toe stop to push myself and coasting until I was almost at a stop. Repeat several times. My left foot was immobile. I was afraid to move both feet, for fear of falling. I hugged the wall constantly. My dad, on the other hand, used to jump barrels on roller skates. But that's another story for another time.
During the skating there were all skates (where everyone could skate), couple skate (boy & girl or two girls) trio skates (two boys & a girl, two girls & a boy or three girls) girls only and boys only. The limbo and hokey poky were also played. There was also snack bar where I hung out mostly.
During the "boys only skate" the girls began chanting "Fall, Fall, Fall" When a boy did oblige, a tremendous cheer went up. The noise level was about the same as standing behind a jet during takeoff. On my second lap around the rink, I went down, hard. A great cheer rose in the air. But when I didn't get back up, it grew very quiet. The skating refs skated over to help me up, but I couldn't put any weight on my right ankle. It hurt worse than anything my brother had ever put me through. They packed it with ice until my parents came to pick me up.
The next day (Saturday) we went to the family doctor. Emergency room were for emergencies like heart attacks and severed limbs. The doctor took x-rays and told Dad that my ankle bone was hanging together by a tiny piece, and he could give it a quick twist, break it completely, and set me in a cast. I hadn't been on this earth for long, but a doctor wanting to break your leg was unheard of (at least by me). I pleaded with Dad not to let him do it. Finally the doctor wrapped my ankle in an Ace bandage and told me that I would have to stay off of it for six weeks. He wanted me to spend the first week at home, and I would be on crutches at school for the next five. He would check me again after that.
Staying home for a week was cool. My teacher sent home the work that we would be doing in class, and left me her phone number in case I had any questions. Sir Gattabout had to do all of my chores (oh yeah), and Dad put a cement block under one end of the couch to keep my foot elevated. I stayed on the couch for a week, taking meals there and sleeping there also.
When I went back to school, the kids were amazed that I didn't have a cast. Some of them thought I was making the whole thing up. I had to sit and watch the others in gym. At lunch, my cousin carried my lunch for me to the table. Recess was the pits.
After six weeks we went back to the doctor. He took another set of x-rays and didn't like what he saw. He told Dad that the bone had knitted, but slightly askew. He said I may have trouble with it in the future.
I don't know if it was in my mind, or a result of the injury, but every time I put on a pair of roller skates after that, I got a terrible case of shin splints in my right leg. I didn't skate too much after that , and haven't had a pair of skates on my feet for close to 20 years. Sometimes I'm tempted to try a pair of Rollerblades, but after two knee surgeries (one on each knee), The voice of reason triumphs. I don't care to have another "Oops".
You can read of other people's "oops" at "My Tiny Kingdom's Flashback Friday carnival. How about you, did you ever have an "Oops"?
P.S.
To my faithful Flashback Friday readers: I have recounted to you tales of "Aunt Shelly" & "Uncle Phil". Within two weeks of each other, they have passed from this life. Please keep their kids, grand kids, great grand children and the rest of the family in your thoughts and prayers.
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