Memoir Of A Broken Arm-Personal Narrative
Memoir Introduction
“Mom it really hurts!” I screamed. Pain shot through my arm like a bullet. My mom grabbed her purse and we sped out to the car. I quickly opened the car door with my hand that was fine while still trying to hold my other arm to give it support. My mom stepped on the pedal and off we were to the hospital, again. I turned the little dial on next to the steering wheel and and music was spilling through my ears, which didn’t make me feel any better, but nothing felt worse than my red puffy arm.
There I was on the hospital bed, full of paper and germs, a place I didn’t want to be at. My arm was red, bruised and aching like no other. We were waiting for the doctor and my mom was on her phone like she didn't even care. I know she did though, 2,000 dollars for falling off …show more content…
The doctor directed me into a room with a blue door and a sign that said X-RAY room in all caps. I was nervous, not to get an X-ray, but to get the results. I thought about it, “another broken arm”. In my head it sounded crazy, but when the large machine checked my arm, it was no surprise. Just another broken arm.
There I was on the hospital bed, with one pillow and mini stairs on the left side. This time my dad was here with me more nervous than I could ever be. He was asking so many questions. “Does it really hurt?” “Why were you scootering in the first place?” “You know we're throwing away that scooter!”
My dad didn't realize that was my last scooter left. I loved my scooter, the wind through your hair as your other foot pushes off the ground. Now it’s gone I know wouldn't be able to ride a scooter anymore, to many bones broken. From a blue razor blade scooter.
When I got home my parents were mad. I tryed to believe it wasn't my fault, but it was I was clumsy. I lost a swing, two scooters a picnic table, but I still have a bike. Not for
“Mom it really hurts!” I screamed. Pain shot through my arm like a bullet. My mom grabbed her purse and we sped out to the car. I quickly opened the car door with my hand that was fine while still trying to hold my other arm to give it support. My mom stepped on the pedal and off we were to the hospital, again. I turned the little dial on next to the steering wheel and and music was spilling through my ears, which didn’t make me feel any better, but nothing felt worse than my red puffy arm.
There I was on the hospital bed, full of paper and germs, a place I didn’t want to be at. My arm was red, bruised and aching like no other. We were waiting for the doctor and my mom was on her phone like she didn't even care. I know she did though, 2,000 dollars for falling off …show more content…
The doctor directed me into a room with a blue door and a sign that said X-RAY room in all caps. I was nervous, not to get an X-ray, but to get the results. I thought about it, “another broken arm”. In my head it sounded crazy, but when the large machine checked my arm, it was no surprise. Just another broken arm.
There I was on the hospital bed, with one pillow and mini stairs on the left side. This time my dad was here with me more nervous than I could ever be. He was asking so many questions. “Does it really hurt?” “Why were you scootering in the first place?” “You know we're throwing away that scooter!”
My dad didn't realize that was my last scooter left. I loved my scooter, the wind through your hair as your other foot pushes off the ground. Now it’s gone I know wouldn't be able to ride a scooter anymore, to many bones broken. From a blue razor blade scooter.
When I got home my parents were mad. I tryed to believe it wasn't my fault, but it was I was clumsy. I lost a swing, two scooters a picnic table, but I still have a bike. Not for