Personal Narrative: The Emergency Room

“What happened?” my dad asks, the words dripping with skepticism. “Dad…my wrist hurts” I say sheepishly, clearly wanting to be out on the ice, not doubled over in the locker room. My dad takes one look at my wrist and his face turns white. He’s nearly speechless as he sees for the first time what I have yet to fully process. “Uhh...Ok, let’s get some of your equipment off, we’re going to the emergency room!” I tremble. This is the first time I realize this wasn’t just another bump or bruise. What they don’t tell you about breaking bones is the pain doesn’t set in right away, it comes later, delayed by anatomy. You start to lose function, incapacitated by shock, but you don’t feel pain. Time slows down, things blend together, and you’re engrossed in a foggy haze of pain. And yet, the small details compose some of my most vivid memories. Upon arrival, I’m swiftly ushered past the few people sitting in the emergency room lobby at 10:00p.m. on a frigid January night. The next few minutes are a blur of nurses and IVs, …show more content…
The room’s bigger…brighter, there are nurses and doctors poking and prodding with needles and fingers. They’re asking questions, inspecting my x-rays, and game-planning the best method for repairing my broken wrist. My world evolves from a universe of pain where time moves at a snail’s pace to movement everywhere and everything is moving at a mile a minute. Everyone introduces themselves and the doctors explain their game plan. The specifics are a blur, but I understand the gist of it. My fingers are locked into finger traps, my palm faces outward, toward the doorway, and my elbow bends at a ninety degree angle. As they begin administering an anesthetic, I mention that “I don’t feel tired at all!” with the youthful enthusiasm of a thirteen year old, only to be out cold within the next ten