In October 2001, I suffered my first major injury: I broke my arm. In half. Go big or go home right? I was at my Dad's union picnic where they had all sorts of fun carnival rides and games, including one they called a "Bungee Run." It's one of those inflatable games, that looks like a giant bowling alley. You strap a bungee cord around your stomach and then you run down the lane, jump up, and let the bungee cord snap you back to the ground. Sounds fun right? Well it totally was! I loved it like the first four times I did it. My whole family thought it was hysterical. Turns out though, the fifth time wasn't quite as fun as it was before...
All I remember is trying to run as fast as I could, so the cord would really whip me back. What I obviously did not take into consideration was that my left arm might twist behind me, causing me to land on top of it, creating a pretty loud *snap*. Huh, that didn't sound right. It's clear that at the point I went into shock, because I don't remember pain, I just remember knowing I needed a medic, and I needed one ASAP. The color must have drained from my face, because the game attendant could clearly see that something was wrong, and I needed help. They chauffeured me to a bench where I waited for the strapping medic to cycle down on his bike. Man was he hot! My fourteen year old self was quite upset at the fact that I was not having a better hair day.The medic decided that since I couldn't move my arm, my shirt needed to be cut off, to better examine what he thought might have been a dislocated shoulder. That's when the tears started rolling. I swear I was totally in control, until he took giant scissors and sliced right down the middle of my favorite San Francisco 49ers shirt. There was no stopping the waterworks then.

Luckily a few days later they were able to get me into surgery, where they had to cut open my arm to push the bones back together and then stick three pins in to hold it in place while it heeled. The pins had to stay in my arm for six weeks or so, where they stuck out from my shoulder, Frankenstein style. So with my new metal hump of a shoulder and a sling I was able to go back to school a week later. I quickly found out that no cast means people not considering it a real injury. This lead to not a single one of my friends offering to be my official back pack carrier. What kind of demented teenager wouldn't want to leave class early and arrive late to their next one? Or at the very least help their supposed bestie... Oh wait, that would be my sucky ass high school friends. They didn't want to "miss anything" in class. Should have dumped them then instead of having to deal with the devastating break up four years later, but eh, that's a whole different story. I survived carrying my own backpack.
The pins were pretty gnarly, and I absolutely refused to look at them while they were sticking out of my arm. They had to be cleaned every few days and I left that up to my Dad, he was pretty stoked on how grotesque it looked. I remember the first time we took the bandage off I was sitting in the bathroom with my eyes shut and head turned the other way, and all the sudden I was noticing flashing lights. "Are you taking pictures?!" "Absolutely", my Dad responded, "This is gross. Gotta show the guys at work." Faaaabulous. Six weeks later I went back to the Doctor where he pulled the pins out, which surprisingly barely hurt at all, and I was left with a weak arm in need of physical therapy, and a pretty sweet scar.

And why would I want to, life's been pretty sweet since then. Plus I hear after nine emergency room visits, you get the tenth for free!
All I have to say is that second picture down with all the people in the emergency room is gross. OK well only the creepy with the "Vacuum Problem" And if I say its gross..it is. (Even though 9 times out of ten I'm a vulgar trash mouth) But I loved the rest of your story...I feel like I learned some stuff about you I didn't know!
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hahaha, i really debated using that picture, but i decided that it's really funny, so i went with it. we don't know how that vacuum situation occurred. could have been innocent? we shouldn't judge...
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