CRUNCH.

Ah, the sickening sound of one of your bones shattering, it’s burned in your memory. It’s a rite of passage that you hopefully never have to endure, if you have, my regards, friend. A broken bone can either be easy or extremely hard to navigate around with, there isn’t an inbetween.

I have had the unfortunate pleasure of breaking a bone… twice (yes, I know, cue the applause). Let me tell you, it’s awful. When I first fell and heard the crunch, I knew, I’d messed up. I felt the pain shoot up my arm as my muscles tensed and my body burned. I’ve never known a worse pain since. The feeling stays with you, it’s engraved in your mind as you always remember what it felt like. Sometimes if you’re really unlucky, like me, you have to have surgery and you get a scar. A permanent reminder of your pain and, in my case, stupidity. 

At this point you’re probably thinking. “Josh, what did you do?” Dear reader, please keep in mind, the following story was a young and naive version of me. 

Envision Christmas Eve of 2019, a joyous day in a simpler, less digital age. Three young boys run amuck in a yard, Nerf blasters in hand. A fierce battle had been brewing, a long and hard fought war had occurred that day. The sound of spring-loaded triggers launching a dart that whistles through the air was a sound you couldn’t forget. The sky had been nice, perfectly cloudy while also sunny leaving a nice shade with a little heat. Nothing could ruin this day.

Then, the plan that would change my fate forever was made. We were going to pull the greatest prank of all time… shoot my friend’s sister with a bunch of Nerf blasters. My friend would lure his sister out, and then we’d unload everything. You know, looking back, this was just mean and not a good prank; but we were kids, so cut us some slack. 

Anyway, the plan was set in motion. I had to get to my station. The plan relied on it. Then I felt the air change. It wasn’t hitting my face directly, like I was going downward. I looked down and saw it. A wire that was in the yard holding up a Christmas inflatable. I had tripped over it and was sent falling. My fellow soldiers watched as I hit the ground, THUD, and began crying. 

I had no idea at the time the force from the impact had shattered the growth plate in my left arm.

Now, I know, it sounds ridiculous. I tripped and shattered my growth plate? Yeah, right. If only that was the case, this was some silly story, but it isn’t. When it first broke I didn’t immediately go to the hospital, I just walked home after my friend’s mom had nursed me for a bit.

My mom and I didn’t really think I needed to go to the emergency room. I later decided I did want to go to the ER, so my mom took me. I got seen and the doctor was like, “Dude, you need to go to the hospital.” So we went home, grabbed my things, and headed off. I got to the hospital where they basically said, “Yeah, we’re gonna put metal pins in your arm to correct the break.”

So that, kids, is how I ended up waking up in the hospital on Christmas morning. Zero out of 10, would not do again. To anyone who has had surgery for a broken bone, my condolences. It’s scary and not a fun experience.

Now to any readers who may have caught when I earlier said I’d broken a bone twice, allow me to say that’s a story for another time – the time when I fell off a three foot wall and broke my elbow.