The Spaces Between Your Fingers

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My friend injured his arm during recess in fourth grade. He is now at Drexel in a BS/MD program and will be starting med school in 2015.

“We were seeing who could jump the furthest off the swings.” I have told this story hundreds of times already but the new doctor was asking. “I jumped off and flew. I twisted in the air and landed really hard on my right arm. It really hurt!” My friends said it looked cool, I was flying like Superman and I made it the furthest. “I went to the teacher but she said it was my funny bone and it was fine. It hurt really bad, it wasn't fine!” She made me sit down for forever, and then took me to the nurse after I started crying.

“It happened Thursday at recess, Doug’s in fourth grade. ” My Dad chimes in, “The nurse called me to come get him and we went to the ER. They couldn't figure out what was wrong and said it probably was a sprain.”

My dad and I had sat for hours and hours waiting. I got an X-ray but they couldn't find anything.

A tinge of pain shocks through my arm, I have hold my arm to try to lessen the pain but it still hurts really bad. “Yep, he definitely dislocated his elbow. It has been this way for almost four days, correct?” the Doctor asks my Dad; Dad nods and the Doctor turns to me. “Breath and relax, I am going to give your arm a bit of a tug and put it back in place.”

Grabbing my arm right above my elbow he pulls and twists the bottom part. “Oww,” I am squealing, “Stop!” But he doesn’t stop, and tries again and again and again.

Then he finally does stop.

“We are going to need surgery to fix this.”  My eyes are wide open. Surgery? Am I going to die?

The next three days pass fast, even though an almost constant mix of fear and pain is on my mind. It is the day of the surgery. Dad said it won’t be bad, but I think he’s lying. The doctor from Sunday comes to me and a nurse with him gives me a shot....

I wake up to find that I’m in a new room, with a cast on my arm. My Dad says that one of my ligaments that holds in my elbow was torn, so they fixed it and put my arm back in place.

I look at my arm, bent across my chest like i’m saying the pledge of allegiance. The pain is gone. I am handed a cup with a straw, slurp, “yum Apple juice!”, it tastes wonderful. I guess surgery is not that bad afterall.

The Best Apple Juice

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