Injury

When I was in fourth grade I broke my arm. I was taking the dog to his pen. I had my hand put under his collar and we were running down a big hill. The poor dog was thirsty and took a sharp turn into his pen, throwing me into the fence. All the impact went on my arm. It didn't swell. And since I was such a dramatic kid everyone thought it was a minor sprain. A few weeks later we found it had been broken and was now healing weird. It wasn't too weird though, so the doctor just left it. Well, about two weeks after I got the cast off I was running down a sidewalk where I tripped on a hose and re-broke my arm. At least we know it healed straighter this time.
When I had turned twelve I managed to land my first job. I would be "babysitting" a ten year old all summer. We had a great time. The first day on the job was a blast. We were out on the trampoline for hours and hours. We put the sprinkler underneath and were enjoying getting thoroughly wet. I decided that it would be exhilaratingly to spin around in a circle with my eyes closed. I lost my balance, slipped, and landed with all my weight on my left arm (the other arm) on the bar of the trampoline. I didn't want to tell anyone that it hurt. We went inside and put some frozen corn on it and watched a movie. When I got home I didn't tell a soul. A few hours later my mom needed to practice a song she was going to be singing in church that Sunday.
So, I sat down at the piano to accompany her. Everything was going fine until I hit a large chord to hard with my left hand. I stopped playing, broke down into tears, and confessed what I had done.
It was about two years after that break when I was out playing soccer during lunch with some friends. We were playing on a little bit of a slope as there was no where else big enough. It was hailing out, but we were having fun. The ball came over and my friend and I were battling for it. We were pushing each other and laughing. I went to kick the ball with my right foot. Candice went to kick the ball with her right as well, but missed and kicked my left foot out from underneath me. I landed on my right arm. Once again, I didn't want to tell anyone, so I went to class. I was hurting, and tears were streaming down my face. It was Mrs. Peavey's class, which I hated (algebra) so I decided to get up and go to the nurse. Since my broken limbs never were swollen (you will recall the first break) the nurse thought I was bluffing. She called my mom. I could hear what she said,
"Mrs. Garrison, your daughter is in my office. She says she broke her arm, but I don't think it's that bad."
When my mom heard the news she replied, "If Melanee says her arm is broken, then it is. I'll be right in." Sure enough, I managed to break both bones this time. This was by far the most painful break yet.
It was a long two weeks after the cast came off of that when I went with my family on a boy scout camp out. My dad was the leader. We stayed at a hot springs. It had some great water slides. I was going down one, on my stomach and couldn't see anyone below. I rammed my entire weight into my left foot into the chest of a gentleman who was also not paying attention. I carefully swam to the side where I told my friend, Brad, that I just hurt my ankle and thought it might be broken. He told me it was okay, I had another, and left me there. So, I swam to tell my dad and then crawled into the dressing room. All the dear old ladies there were so helpful while I tried to balance on one foot and get dressed. I jumped halfway back to camp before my dad caught up and helped me the rest of the way. Two days later I was in the doctors office with a mildly broken ankle.
That injury healed up nicely and I was the picture of health my sophomore year of high school. At the beginning of soccer season I had a big game. In the first 30 seconds of the game I managed to tackle the ball the same time another girl did and it forced my ankle into a hole where I rolled it. I jumped right up to go get her, and fell right down. I had to be carried of the field. By the time we were two minutes into the game we finally had my sock and shoe off. My ankle was the size of a softball. I wanted to play so badly that I was going to let the man there wrap it go back in. Luckily my dad had wandered over to where the team sat and saw the damage. He had me sit out until half time. At half time we unwrapped the injured ankle. I bawled the entire time. It was enormous. It was purple. I couldn't walk. To my mom's credit, she stayed on her side of the field and didn't come running out when I went down. I was so proud of her keeping her head. My dad let me stay to the end of the game. Then we pulled the car around and my dad lifted me into it.
Off to the emergency room. From the hall I could hear the doctor showing my parents the x-rays. He told them, "Well, she didn't break anything, it looks like she tore a few ligaments. And see this, her growth plate is fused, so she won't be growing anymore." Since I was already the short one in the family, this news lightened the mood for my parents as they teased me. So, that was a nasty injury.
Well, two years later I was trying out for a new soccer team. As I ran backward I tripped in a hole. What do you know, there goes my left ankle again. I was in a new school and was determined to make the soccer team. I bawled that night. Not because it hurt, but because I wasn't sure if I'd be able to play. I went to school the next day. Our campus was huge. I was sitting in Spanish class when I felt my ankle give and heard a nice little snap. I could barely walk after that. I managed to make it to the office and call my mom, who sent her visiting teacher to get me, since she couldn't come right then. Then I hobbled over to the soccer field. I revealed my extremely purple and swollen ankle to the coach and then left. When my mom and I got to the emergency room later they put me in a wheel chair with ice on my ankle. The nurse was skeptical of me and wanted me to walk on it. Then she unwrapped it and said, "Oh, I won't make you walk on that." Thank you. I tore a few more ligaments and stretched a bunch of stuff out. I knew I didn't make the team, since I had managed to miss the last day of try-outs. As I was crutching to class one of the girls on the team ran by and asked why I hadn't been at practice that morning. What?! They still wanted me? So, I did make the team. But I was benched that whole year because I had a late start. After all, I was on crutches for the first two weeks of practice. And then when I could play, I really babied that ankle. On a totally different and unrelated note, I would just like to mention that my soccer coach my senior year happened to be one of the stunt men for the Power Rangers. He could do some of the craziest things with his body to stop a ball from getting in the goal.
Since my senior year of high school I have struggled with my ankle. But I haven't had any major injuries...until today. As I was leaving the physical therapists office, having just had my neck worked on to help with my headaches, I tripped coming off the curb and killed my left ankle. I waited a little for it to get better. But had to hop into my truck and nearly bawled the entire way home. I made an appointment and went in. I was really worried I had broken it. It is swelling, but not that big. A sure sign for a Melanee that something is broken. But, I'm happy to report that my ankle is not broken and nothing is torn. I am in a brace and on crutches, however.

What I want to know is, why was I the only one in my family prone to accident? My sister had a few injuries requiring stitches. My brother has had a few injuries from football, but neither one has broken or torn anything. I guess I was blessed with a klutzy gene.