I have broken three bones in my life. Two of those are at least partially Eric’s fault. Try as I might I can’t quite blame him for breaking my foot when I was on spring break in Mexico. It’s hard to break someone’s bone when you’re not even in the same country.
The first time Eric affected my bones I was in 5th grade. Eric and I had a game where he would sit on my shoulders and we would put on my Dad’s raincoat and pretend we were one person. In order to get on my shoulders he would stand on the radiator in the butler’s pantry. Opposite this radiator was a large, old ceramic sink. I had a friend over that afternoon and Eric and I decided to show her our trick. He got on the radiator and the cover started to tip over. I grabbed him off so he wouldn’t hit his head on the sink and the very heavy radiator cover fell on my foot. Ouch. Eric and my friend and I had been misbehaving all afternoon so my mom didn’t take us very seriously when we said I was hurt and sent us to play. It wasn’t until after my friend left and my mom found me sitting on the floor of my room because I couldn’t get up onto the bed that she realized I was really injured. Please note, I am not claiming neglect at all, being a mother now myself, I TOTALLY get it.
Of course my father was on a business trip and due back that night. Things are never easy. My mother took me to the emergency room where they X-rayed my foot and declared that I had broken my pinky toe but pretty much smashed everything else in my foot. I was put in a walking cast. All because I saved Eric’s life.
The next bone Eric broke was my left pinky finger. We had a huge landing on the second floor of our house and Eric and I were playing there one night. I think I was in 8th or 9th grade. We were rough-housing and from what I remember he would kick towards me and I would catch his foot and it would go from there. Well I guess one of those times he kicked too hard and that was the end of my career as a hand model. One screw, two surgeries, and physical therapy later I have a nice scar and still can’t straighten that finger. It works really well for drinking tea though.
Eric did try to break my head once, but luckily didn’t succeed. He had a hard time handling frustration as a little kid. He was a biter, but you always knew that was coming by his distinctive breathing and facial grimacing. It gave you time to prepare or get away. One fall we were outside, and I still have no idea why—at least in my memory I didn’t provoke him—and he filled a snow shovel with leaves and smashed it down on top of my head. Again, ouch. Luckily no fractures, although possibly some lasting brain damage…
I honestly can’t recall ever injuring Eric. Maybe it’s because I’m a girl. Maybe it’s because I’ve blocked it out of my memory. I don’t recall him ever having a broken bone. He was really healthy….until he wasn’t.
No comments:
Post a Comment