Second grade is a moment where a memory sparks. It started out wonderful. I had a great teacher, friends and classes. I thought it was an easy year. Except one time I hated being in second grade. I became limited in my favorite class and it  became harder to deal with, just because of one mishap in gym. Although, I learned to have patience through it all.

It was the beginning of fall, with many activities going on. One event I was excited to do was rollerblading in gym class. The very first day, we sat on the green tiled floor next to the gymnasium doors. There was a tall man with brown facial hair standing in front of us explaining how to rollerblade. While he was telling us the do's and don'ts, I was staring at my hands messing with my pink tennis shoes, since I already knew how to rollerblade. As I looked up at the man he was explaining what to do during a fall.

"When you fall, land on your bottom with your hands up. If you put your hands down when you land, there's a chance that you will get hurt."

After the explanation, I found my size rollerblades, located in the left corner of the gym. I tied them up, and started rolling around the cones set out in the gym. I was able to hear the thuds and scrapes of the rollerblades hitting the floor. I went around the circle about ten times and the class time was over halfway done. I didn't want the time to end. As I was going around the circle I looked right and saw my classmate, Tristan, practicing his rollerblading on a mat. I watched him fall down on his bottom, then as soon as he stood up he fell a second time. I thought that I was a better rollerblader than others. I circled one more time, I felt like I was going too fast.
Down I went.

Panic hit me as I fell to the floor landing on my bottom with my arms next to my side holding me up on the floor. After a few seconds I clutched my arm and started crying. The pain in my wrist was excruciating! I heard the gym teacher's whistle blow. The other students took off their blades to leave for the next class. Running towards me, Mrs. Aukes, the gym teacher, held my arm and assessed it. I was clueless on what to do next. My teacher helped untie my rollerblades and we stood up. With her hand on my shoulder, I was escorted out of the gymnasium into the nurse’s office across the hall. I could taste the salty tears running down my face.

As I entered the room, I could smell the hospital-like scent. The large, grey haired nurse looked over at me, “Oh no, what happened?” she concerningly questioned. The gym teacher had explained to her that I fell down rollerblading, while I took a seat on an uncomfortable chair against the white wall. I sat holding ice on my arm, upset because that was all I was told to do, while I was in pain. Two younger, brown haired students came into the office waiting for the nurse. As the nurse came back she asked if I wanted a puke bucket. I wondered why would I want a bucket to throw up in? I frowned at her and back down at my arm that was swelling like an inflating balloon.

I thought, why didn’t I have patience today? I could have prevented myself from getting hurt. If only I listened to the instructor instead of wishing that I could jump up and go rollerblading. I could have tied up my blades slower giving me less time to do the activity. I could have been roller blading slower. With every kick of the roller blade I controlled my speed; I pushed myself to go faster while turning to go around the circle wasn’t a bright idea. Patience was needed and would have been important to have this time. The lack of patience, was teaching me a lesson.

After an hour of patiently sitting in the office, my dad walked in wearing a black, John Deere baseball cap and a dirty mechanic’s uniform. The nurse greeted him and summarized  what happened to me.

As my dad looked at me, the nurse said, “I don’t think it’s broken.”

“Are you sure? It looks pretty swollen to me,” he remarked frustrated at the fact.

“It is quite swollen right now isn’t it?”

"Well yeah, you decided to wait an hour before notifying me of her accident."

I gathered my school bag and jacket, and we left for the clinic to get  X-Rays. When we arrived, we stayed in the main waiting room until we got called back to do the X-Rays. The dark room felt like I was walking into the night.  I had to stand completely still, holding my arm in different positions for imaging. When I was done, we went into a smaller waiting room. There were toys and books there for entertainment. I started losing interest in the entertainment provided and my patience was being tested. I was ecstatic that the doctor came back to go over the results. We entered another dark room with a wall lit up with my X-Rays.

The doctor pointed up at the black and white images, "Right here is where the bone on your wrist is broken. By the looks of it you will need a cast, but it may still need surgery. I will send it to Detroit Lakes and have them examine it to make the final decision. On the plus side, your finger looks like it was broken previously, but it healed correctly."

We left the clinic with only a brace that cloudy day. My arm was too swollen to fully cast it. I went home and elevated the arm to reduce the swelling. I wished that something could have been done right there and then; I just wanted the long, aching pain to end.

We left early in the morning to Detroit Lakes for my appointment. Right on time, I went into the doctor's office. I took a seat on a big, bulky chair in the center of the room. I was told good news, if the break was a hairline worse I’d need surgery, but I only needed a cast. I thought to myself, soon my arm won’t be in pain. The doctor showed me all the colors I could choose from for my cast. I eagerly picked my favorite color at the time, neon pink. He wrapped my arm in white gauze from my palm to above my elbow. Afterwards, he took pieces of the pink, plastic molding and soaked it in the sink. Then the doctor layered it on top of the gauze. After a few minutes my cast hardened and felt rough to the touch. Shortly after, I left the hospital for home with a bulky, pink cast and a blue sling. The remainder of the sunny day I laid on the couch with a stack of four pillows underneath my arm, while thinking on how I would manage life, activities and school without using my left arm. Looking at my arm I thought, “Just have patience, I’ll be better soon.”