Can’t catch a break with my left arm

Kendall Simmons, Gazebo Staff Writer|December 1, 2018

Five years ago, when I was in Mrs. Cheryl Griggs fifth grade home room, I was at a Stratford flag football game. I was playing soccer on the practice field with my friends.

My sister, Carson, and I were fighting over the ball, and I tripped and fell on my left arm. Even though I had never had a broken bone, I knew right away I knew it was broken from the look of it and also the pain.

As I was screaming on the ground, half of my friends ran to go find my mom as the other half helped to try to ease the pain of my broken arm.

My mom finally arrived at the practice field and quickly realized it was broken, so we had to get to the hospital quickly.

Caroline Sutherland’s grandfather was helping me, while her mom made me a temporary sling out of a magazine and a phone charger. My mom and I quickly got into the car and made  the 20- minute drive to The Medical Center. My mom kept telling me that I might pass out from the pain, which really worried me.

When we made it to the hospital, I still had to wait on a room while I was sitting in the waiting room holding my broken arm. I finally got into the room and got the terrible news that it was pretty badly broken and they needed to put me to sleep and set the bone to heal it.

But that wasn’t even the worst part. I had eaten less than six hours before I broke it, so they could not perform surgery on me that night. I had to go back to my house and sleep with it still broken and wake up at 6 a.m. the next morning for my surgery.

That was the worst night’s sleep I’ve ever had. The next morning I woke up, had the surgery, and was good to go. I picked the color pink for my cast that went above my elbow and probably weighed more than 10 pounds.

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On the bright side, at least I’m right handed!

— Kendall Simmons

After almost two months of having that heavy and annoying cast, I got it off at the end of November and left with only a brace. The doctor said I was supposed to wear the brace all the time, but I never did because it was uncomfortable.

Two months later, I was at Madeline Davis’ house riding her scooter down her steep driveway not wearing my brace, of course. I got to the bottom of the hill and next thing I knew, I was sitting on the ground holding the same arm I had broken only a short time ago.

I pulled my long sleeve shirt up, and I knew it was broken again. I quickly told my sister it was broken and to go tell mom who was inside. Instantly, my mom started to cry because it was like deja vu from two months before. She also was mad at me for not wearing my brace like the doctor had told me to.

On the way to the hospital my mom had to stop for gas. When I got to the hospital, they set my arm just like last time. About a month later, I went to one of my appointments at the hospital, and I received the news that my bones had not healed right and that I needed another surgery.

About two weeks later I had the surgery and they had to cut open my arm, break the bone, and put two pins in my arm to help the bone heal correctly.

Three months later in May, I finally got my cast off. The next two years I was very careful and did not hurt my arm again, until the eighth grade. It was October, exactly three years after the first time I broke my arm.

I was at Harriette Ann Bowden’s house with Sophie Waldrop and my sister. We decided we wanted to try a cheer stunt with me as the flyer, Carson and Sophie as the bases, and Harriette Ann as the back spot.

They then lifted me off the ground, and Carson and Sophie dropped me because they started laughing. They still had ahold of my feet so the only thing I had to catch myself was my arm. I had fallen and broken the same arm a third time, but I did not know it was broken right away.

As I was on the ground crying, Harriette Ann was trying to shush me so her mom didn’t find out that I was hurt. After about 30 minutes of me crying, she finally went to tell her mom.

She quickly came to me, checked it out, and decided to call my mom. Twenty minutes later my mom got to their house and knew exactly what to do. We rushed to the hospital a third time and they told us it was broken again.

This time was not as bad as the others, but I still had a cast for a couple months.

Today, I am very cautious with everything I do and try to protect my arm at all times. I also get scared that if I were to break it again, I would have to have another serious surgery.