It started about the middle of the summer of 2008, and my sister’s friend Michelea stayed the night at the home we were staying at for the time being.  We were sprinting around and playing tag inside until it became repetitive, and I grew bored of tag and quit playing.  I decided to go and settle down in bed.

At the time my brother, Mason and I shared a room, so we had bunk beds. The bed was one of those cheap ones that were sturdy, but any kind of appliance of pressure, and anybody could hear the sandy wood fibers compress, and I was able to sleep on the top because my brother had become too old to slumber on top.  Michelea and my sisters were still participating in tag inside, and they were so loud somebody could hear them across town.  They were oh so loud through the house.  I thought, “Hey, it could be kind of fun and cool to open the door with a hanger.”  Which, just so happened to appear hanging on my bed because I started to close the door that way because the bunk beds were right next to the door.  Just when I started reaching over to close the door Michelea and my sister, Chloe, ran in and pushed on the door reopening it and pulling me off my bed.  I then rose up and felt the burning of pain rise like fire on wood in my ear.  We then went to my mother.  Crimson blood poured from my ear like a slow stream of water.  My mom said, “We have to go to the hospital.”  We went to drop Michelea off on the way. 

We arrived at the hospital that always smelled of a cleaner, and I said, “My ear is fine.”  I was only eight years old at the time, and I didn’t want prickly stiches at all.  After a while we went in to get my stiches put into my ear and sew back on.  While the stiches were being put in, I lay on the papery bed, so I couldn’t watch.  I just stared at the wall and the doctor’s faces or nurses’ faces. My eyes started to well up with tears from the pain of the needle going in and out of my skin because they didn’t numb my ear.  I begged the doctors, “Can we stop so that I can go get a drink of water.  Can we just take a moment from it!”  The doctor just sighed, “No, it will be quicker to keep going.” The doctor kept putting the iron gray metallic stiches into my ear.  He eventually finished putting the stiches into my ear and head, and we were able to go home. 

When we arrived at home, my parents warned, “You must be careful, and you can’t mess around otherwise you might rip up your stiches, and we will have to take them out and then put in new ones.”  I really did not want to have new stiches placed in and get my old ones ripped out.

After a while I had been able to be careful and not rip my stiches.  We went to get the stiches out.  It was even more painful as when they were inserted because they never numbed it.   Once again I had asked if we can take a break or if I can get a drink of cool water.  After half way through, I decided to offer the proposal, “Could I leave the stiches in instead of having them be taken out but once again?”

They just laughed, “No, because then they will get infected and just kill your ear.”  The doctors finally removed all of the stiches, and the doctors requested, “You need to be careful still since they were just taken out.” 

With being careful in mind, I decided to wrestle with my older brother when we arrived at home and almost ripped my ear off again, almost if it were an orange peel, and we had to go back and get jet black stiches that dissolve into my ripped ear that time instead of them having to be taken out again.  In the end I learned that people should also be careful of what they do and that everyone should listen to what the doctors say all the way through.