Richard and I had gone to Roseburg yesterday to run some errands. Just before returning to Myrtle Creek, he took me to a used book store which he has gone to quite often. He purchased four books and I got two. One was a Complete Book of Questions. Another journal or conversation prompter. I have exhausted the dashes (mentioned in this post) and am now taking a new approach – though I doubt I will be posting all 1001 QA’s.
CBQ#314
& 316
How
many bones have you broken? How many times have you had stitches?
I have not broken any of my bones. I have experienced torn ligaments and tendentious
(here) but no broken bones – at least on
myself. My brother, Patrick, broke the
same arm at two different times. The
first time was my fault.
My mom had dropped my brother and me off
at my cousins’ house to
spend the night. I thought it would be fun to jump from the closet to the bed – or perhaps it
was the younger of my two cousins who was the instigator. Patrick and Michelle seemed a lot more cautious
while Ross and I were the adventurous ones – often inviting trouble – but not
intentionally.
So three of us of us were enjoying
ourselves and Patrick just observed. We
finally were able to get him to work up the courage to jump. He finally made it to the closet. I pushed him out so that he could enjoy the
fun (or maybe he was just taking too long; so many years ago, I can’t remember)
only my push made him fall between the closet and the bed and he landed on the
floor and broke his arm. I imagine he
started wailing – which put an
end to our fun.
Mom said when she came to pick us up, our
worried Aunt Fern greeted her at the door – not wanting to let her in until she was
able to break the news to her so that mom would be prepared. Several years went by before Patrick had been
goofing off in the back of our neighbor’s pickup. I wasn’t there so not sure of the details but
heard that he somehow managed to fall out of the truck and landed on that same
arm he had already broken and had to wear a cast.
Although I had never broken any bones, I
have had to deal with getting stitches.
Long before Patrick’s broken arm,
I’d been
spinning around the living room and ended up losing my balance and wacked my
face into a corner of the end table creating a gash between my forehead and right
eye. I don’t recall how many stitches my mom said
I had to have. There is no visible scar
although to this day my right eye appears to be significantly smaller than my left
as there is more skin folded over my right eye than my left.
