Trapeze Artist

I am a clutz. Always have been, always will be. Many are the times that I have hurt myself in the dumbest way. Take for instance, the time that I broke my arm. I was in the fifth grade, about 10 years old, when it happened. I was playing on a swingset and fell off. A SWINGSET people. At age 10. Sad. I had no business being on it to start with, as we had outgrown the thing years before. It was one of those that had the metal tube frame, a slide at one end, a line of swings and a teetor totter at the opposite end. Old school style, you know?

Anyway, my stupid self was hanging from the pole across the top that held everything and swinging by my arms. Somehow, I managed to swing my body right off the set and into the air, landing with a thud on the ground nearby. Jason, my friend who's backyard we were playing in, came running to my rescue. When he saw it was more than he could handle, he went for his dad. Mr. S came outside and assessed the damage. He sent Jason back in the house to call 911. Jay was soooo excited! He got to call 911! I'll never forget how the boy told me about it while I layed on the ground waiting for the ambulance.

My mom, of course, rushed over after calling my dad at work. She sat with me while the paramedics checked me out and made an educated guess as to what was wrong. I looked up at one of the men and sighed saying, "Did I break another one?" He just chuckled that yes, it was indeed broken, but they didn't know how bad. The paramedics packed up and left without me since it wasn't an emergency. My dad got home and both parents took me to the hospital. I don't recall much after the ride, except when I woke up from having the arm set and put in a cast. First thing I said to my dad was "I'm sorry. I won't do it again." My father, the joker that he was, replied, "Yeah, and I won't break your other arm." The nurses called some folks about that comment.

This incident followed just 3 years on the heels of the when I broke my leg in an ugly accident that included a bicycle, steep driveway and concrete curb. Which had happened only 2 years after the broken collarbone that was absolutely not my fault.

I wonder why my mom never let me mow the yard?