During my fifteen years of my life, there are sure many
memories impossible to forget. Happy memories, sad memories, embarrassing memories,
and such. One of them, the one that I would remember clearly no matter how much
time has passed is when I broke my ankle. It happened when I was in second
grade of elementary school. Around that time of my life, I could not seem to
stay put. I would always jump and run around, with the impact of me breaking
things; glass windows, my mother’s porcelain plates, and even my own body part.
The way my elementary worked is that second graders start
their lesson at late morning after the first graders finish, due to lack of
class given. I always got to school early because my father had to go to his
campus early, too. Therefore, I always had plenty time to kill before class
started. Together with my other early-comers classmates, I played around the
school building. My favorite spot was the stairs which connected the first
floor (where my class was) and the second floor (where the higher classes
were). Before that stairs to the second floor, there was this space which is
perfect for us to hang around while waiting for our class to start.
When you were little, remember how your mother used to scold
you when you play by the stairs? Well, I didn’t seem to take my mother’s warning
seriously by then. As I arrived at school, I would quickly drop my bag and go
to the stairs. It was not recess time, so it was pretty spacey for me to play.
The banister was especially fun to slide onto. It was glossy and smooth, which made
it even better to act as my free rollercoaster ride.
The problem was not at this banister, however. It was this
other game, in which I challenged myself to jump from stair to stair. When I
successfully jumped across one stair, I would try to jump across two. One, two,
three, all I passed easily. However, when I tried to jump across four stairs, I
fell.
I did not feel the pain right away, just numbness. Those
days, falling was usual experience for me, and I had experienced lots without
any serious injury. So, I did not understand why I could not seem to move my right
foot easily. My friends asked me if I was alright, and I just shrugged and
laughed it off. Throughout that day, I restrained the pain (which arose if I
moved my right foot) and convinced myself that the pain was not a big deal,
that it would go away at the end of the day.
Unfortunately, it did not go away. The pain was still there
by the time the school ended, and it only got worse. Because I was still a
second grader, I went home by a pick-up transportation service, where kids with
the same neighborhood go home together with a car driven by a driver. On the
way home that day, one of my friend stepped on my ankle by accident. So, the
pain grew, and grew, and grew.
When I got home, the pain was intolerable that I directly
cried to my mother. She panicked even more than I was and quickly took me to a
hospital nearby. Turned out that I broke my ankle’s bone, that I had my right
foot casted for two weeks.
From then, I tried my best to restrain myself from jumping
and running around anymore.