Had a traumatic afternoon yesterday. An eighth grader at the elementary school where I work came, very quickly, into the school office, clutching his arm. Being the blunt, soft-spoken woman I am, I blurted, "What?"
"Mrs. Hickey!" The boy fell to his knees.
Now, this young man has been in my detention several times, and I've gotten on to him for other reasons, so once again, I matter-of-factly state, "What's wrong?"
"I broke my wrist."
Well, that spurred me into action a bit. I took one look at his very loose forearm (if you've seen where Harry Potter's arm is like rubber in movie #2, you'll have some idea of what I'm talking about), and rushed him to the nurse. He'd been "warming up" for soccer practice, goofed around, and fell.
Anyway, the little darling didn't want me to leave his side. Now, mind you I've never seen a broken arm before, especially of this magnitude, and hope never to again. I stayed by the boy's side until his mother got there, then went into the bathroom, trembled and cried. Thank God, I'm calm during the crisis.
Anyway, my pastor's sermon last Sunday was to find the good in everything. Here it is. Should a character in one of my books ever break their arm, I'll know how it looks, what is done to secure the dangling appendage, and have some idea of how it feels.
Did I do good?