Long Term Lessons: A Short Story Essay

Long Term Lessons Crack! “Owww! “, I screamed. My mom, no stranger to my clumsy habits, started frantically asking questions. “Are you okay? What happened? “. Then, she started worrying, I had broken my right elbow in the past and it took a toll on my parents, so they did not want to go through the same experience again. Fracturing my arm taught me to be more cautious with injury precaution and to be thankful for my healthy body. It was just a regular night, my dad was working, my mom was cooking dinner, and my brother was watching TV. Meanwhile, I was dancing with socks on travertine floors.

All of the sudden, 1 lost my balance and my head was going straight for the floor. Without thinking, I struck my right arm out to prevent breaking my skull. “Phew! I didn’t break my head,” I thought. Forthwith, an excruciating pain was growing in my right arm. My mom had heard the loud bang and started worrying. A few minutes later, I was eating my meal on the couch with only my left arm. Meanwhile, my mom started crying. Trying to calm her down, I claimed that my arm barely hurt. Despite my argument otherwise, I was forced to go to the hospital. As soon as my dad and I arrived at the hospital, I was sent to the X-ray room.

Since my dad was an Interventional Radiologist, he was able to diagnose the problem. My mind was rambling with thoughts “What if I broke my elbow again? This is the worst timing ever! ” My dad proceeded to give me news that would change my life for the next month and a half. “It looks like a ‘mild’ fracture. ” After asking the meaning of a fracture, he explained to me “Sasha, you broke my arm. ” My mind went blank. After the terrible news, my dad and I rushed towards the emergency room. I was able to be temporarily treated with minimal waiting time.

The emergency room nurse performed a series of tests to be sure the broken arm didn’t need to be treated immediately. Before I knew it, my arm was wrapped up and put into a sling, so I wouldn’t move it till I was permanently treated. I got home late, so I didn’t have to go through the burden of telling my mom the two things I hate telling her the most: she was right and I broke my arm. The next day, I went to the orthopedic surgeon. He was really tall, skinny, and scary. He told ne that my fracture was more than “mild” and I would have to undergo surgery with anethesia.

That night I barely slept, my mind was filled with nervousness. I woke up at four in the morning to go to the hospital. After arriving to the hospital, I was given a hospital gown. I was put into a small room with a bed and a chair for my dad. I asked many questions about the surgery to my dad and I soon learned if anything went wrong with the anesthesia I could die, although extremely unlikely. I started to worry, but, my dad calmed me down with jokes and. The surgery was scheduled for 8:30 in the morning. The anesthesiologist didn’t appear until about 10 and the doctor showed up around 10:30.

For an impatient second grader, four hours of waiting is agonizing, let alone seven hours. Soon after the doctor arrived, I was put into a stretcher, while transporters moved me to the surgery room. I felt butterflies in my stomach the moment I reached the surgery room. Once I got into the room a nurse comforted me. When it was time to put the mask on, my doctor said jokingly, “Wait a minute, we need to smack her in the head with a hammer. ” At that moment, I thought to myself, “Wow! My well being is in this person’s hands. ” The nurse then put a mask on me and said to count to five. 1,2,3,… ” I don’t know what happened next.

I remember waking up in a different room, I had a pink cast on my arm, many people were surrounding me, I even saw my ENT doctor. As looked around, I realized my dad wasn’t there. I panicked, once he came to see me I was relieved. For the next month, my life was drastically changed. I couldn’t participate in many activities, my recess and lunch consisted only of walking across the bleachers. The only positive aspect of this was that during presidential fitness month, I was exempt from doing pull-ups and push ups.

I had regular check ups with my doctor for a month until the day my cast was taken off. Under my cast, was my dirty, grimy elbow with two nails sticking out of it. Suddenly with no signal, the nurses pulled the nails out of my elbow. I don’t remember pain, but rather the relief of going back to normal life. However, I did not anticipate the recovery, which was certain exercises to give my arm strength. This prohibited me from a few activities. Breaking my elbow was so traumatizing that for the five years, I rarely talked about it. However, I learned a few lessons.

The impact of fracturing my elbow taught me look out for my own well being and should reconsider everything I do. I must appreciate my healthy body. Although I have only broken a few bones, I still have clumsy habits that could one day make me go through the same agonizing process again. I even learned how to weigh opportunity costs. In my case, I would either break my elbow or head. By putting my arm down, I saved myself from more long term damage. Fracturing my elbow was a short term, painful experience, but the lessons I learned will stay with me forever.