|courtesy google search|
|Girl with two borken arms|
One day my sister brave as she was, selected the higher bar to see how long she could hold on to it. Finally she tired, and releasing her grip she fell to the sawdust pit below her.
To soften her landing she bent forward and placed both hands in front of her. Snap went both wrists. You guessed it. Both wrists were broken.
Fortunately my dad was working the night shift at that time, so he happened to be home and was able to drive her to the doctor. For some reason, after setting her wrists, the doctor put splints on her arms and not a plaster cast.
You can understand that my sister was pretty helpless to feed or dress herself, or tend to her other needs. Mother had attached to the pages of her reader, wooden clothes pins that gave my sister a certain amount of independence to turn the pages with her mouth.
In time her arms healed, and it was back to school for her. I have often wondered if the trauma that shocked her at that time, caused my sister to never be the same again.
I wish I knew how to fix it.
This post has been linked with Joan Davis at: Sharing His Beauty
Also shared with Hazel’s Blog party at: