Macy N


From This Day On

       It was just a regular day, like any other. Well actually, I couldn’t say that or I wouldn’t be sitting here in the this hospital bed wondering why would God let this happen and what was going to happen to me from this day on. I am getting a little ahead of myself, so just let me start from the beginning.

       I am fearless. I don’t think about what is going to happen to me when I do something dangerous and I don’t think about the prices I will pay for it. I love adventure and like to have a thrilling, exciting life. Boring, definitely not my style. I love to ripstik. It’s my thrill and it was just what I did then. I would ride for hours on end in a day, just practicing and daydreaming about me, someday competing in a competition. And, most of all, I was good at it. I would do tricks and show off to my dogs (or family) always watching me ride. They were my “judges” and I had to keep them entertained in my ride and try not to mess up and watch them leave. I would grab my iPod and my docking station and play Bon Jovi, Journey, 38 Special, The Alan Parsons Project, Survivor, Def Leppard, Carrie Underwood, Lady Antebellum or any artist that had powerful a beat to there songs. I would have an intro on the routine and then onto the powerful middle and end even stronger. This was my freedom. I never thought I would have to give this up…Until now.

       March 9th, 2012

      It was the start of it all. My mom and dad were packing up and getting ready to go on a Carnival cruise. My sisters and I were going to stay at my grandpa and grandma’s house that just lived about three minutes from our farm. My dad chewed me out about not bringing enough clothes to their house, but I told him that it was just for the night and I would be back at our house tomorrow in the morning to do chores. They dropped us off at my grandparent’s house and I was mad at my dad for chewing me out, so I didn’t hug him goodbye. I hugged my mom goodbye, but not my dad. My dad told my grandpa that whatever you do, don’t call the ship unless someone dies or there is a big emergency. He also asked what we would do this week since it was supposed to be in the eighties all week. My sisters and I said ripstik and spend all of our time outside. Of course, that is what my sisters did most of the time. I was going to be stuck inside most of the week. They said goodbye to my sisters and grandparents, then headed out the door. That was the last time they saw me looking normal.

       March 10th, 2012

       After getting up and eating breakfast, we headed out to the farm. We all got out of Grandpa’s F-150 and I headed straight to the house to get some clothes. I unlocked the house and set my clothes bag on the shoebox in the entryway and walked into the kitchen. I heard the sound of running water. I thought that maybe someone had left the faucet on or my sisters had plugged the pot and it had run over. I walked into the dining room and saw water pouring down from the ceiling. The carpet was wet. The newly painted walls in our house had water soaked in them along the sides. The leather coats in the closet were ruined. I ran up the stairs, my feet sopping wet and walked into the bathroom. I opened the cabinet under the sink and saw that a small pipe had burst open. I ran out of the bathroom and to the front door of the house and called out grandpa, get in the house. He had perfect timing and was just coming down the farm road in the tractor to feed the cows and got out of his seat and ran over. I told him our house was flooded. He told me to run downstairs, where another waterfall of water was streaming down. He had followed me down the stairs and went to our laundry room and found the water controlling system and shut of the water. We went upstairs were my sisters were standing and they asked what was happening. I told them our house was being flooded. Grandpa went up to the bathroom were the pipe had burst and said some swear words. We had to clean this place up before my parents got home. They couldn’t come back from a good trip and have their house be a complete mess. He said don’t you dare tell your folks, or you will spoil their trip. Originally that day, we were supposed to go to my Aunt Jean’s later to help clean up her yard, since it was in seventies, the snow had melted, the sun was shining, it was an early spring, and we were all wearing shorts and t-shirts. We never even got there. In fact, we never left the farm except to eat lunch. Grandpa called Grandma and told what happened and she came out to the farm to help clean up. Grandpa called Jean and told her we weren’t coming and told her what had happened to our house. My sisters and I grabbed all the rags we could and got down on our hands and knees soaked up as much water as we could all over our four-story house. We were lucky that the new basement, my mom and dad’s bedroom, the living room, and the sunroom didn’t get any water in it. Just the upstairs, main floor, and old basement had water in almost every corner. Grandpa called certain clean up places to figure out what we needed to do, and boy there was lot we had to do. We were there the whole rest of the day, and I knew what was going to happen. We were going to be going through h*ll the next few days. Little did I know, I would be the one to deal with the most torture.

       March 11th, 2014

      It was another day of cleaning. We ate breakfast since we knew we wouldn’t stop working all day and then headed out to the farm. We did our outside chores first and then headed indoors. We got done with a fairly decent amount of water soaking up, and grandpa got these machines that helped soak up water better so we wouldn’t have to do that much. My sisters helped Grandma get all the coats out of the closet and hung them up outside to dry, while I helped Grandpa. After we had worked for a few hours, we went to eat lunch then came back to the farm. We cleaned up some more and washed the coats and clothes that had all gotten wet. It was about 3:30 now and my sisters and I begged Grandpa if we could go outside for a bit and do something that didn’t involve cleaning. He said yes and all three of us grabbed the ripstiks and hopped on. Foxy and Sophie walked over to watch us and lay in the sun. Megan decided to pull Molly by hanging onto to her arm while I did my own thing and then about two minutes later, Megan asked if I wanted to be pulled. I said sure, so she grabbed onto my left arm. She pulled me around the driveway and then up to the back patio. I made it the first time across the crack, it was no shock to me that I made it. I told Megan to go faster, since it felt like she was going grandma speed, besides I needed a challenge. She picked up the pace and made a few laps around the basketball hoop in the driveway and she went faster towards the back patio. The crack was looming in front of us and I knew that I was going to fast. I didn’t even have to time react. The front wheel got caught in the crack. The back end of the ripstik flipped forward, pushing me, and causing me to fly forward. I don’t even remember Megan letting go of my arm. My left arm hit the ground first. Hard. The rest of my body hit the ground after that. I heard a crack. I opened my eyes and started laughing. I thought I wasn’t hurt and I would just walk it off. My sisters were laughing along with me, but then they stopped. I looked at them like, what’s wrong with you now. I looked at my left arm and saw why they had stopped. It was bent in the wrong direction. I screamed. Megan and Molly yelled Grandpa. Grandpa came running out the house. I pushed myself off the ground with my right arm and said, Grandpa my arm is going the wrong way. He looked at my arm and I saw a tear drop from his eyes. My sisters were crying, while I just tried to not to look at my arm. It made me feel sick. I had an arm bent in the wrong direction. When I held my arm straight, it felt like the bone in my arm was traveling down towards my hand. Underneath it, it was turning black and blue. Grandpa told Grandma to lock up the house and get outside, because we had to get to the emergency room. I started crying. I knew what was happening. My arm was broken. No doubt about it. I knew I shouldn’t of let Megan pull me. I knew it was my fault, not her’s. I shouldn’t have been going to fast. I should’ve known that the cement had heaved up from the frost in the ground. I should have known that the crack would be wider and that the only reason I made it across the first time was from luck. I looked around me, it felt like my world was falling apart. I didn’t think my parents would find out until they came back home. I thought that my arm would just be casted for about eight weeks and that was that. I was wrong. I would have torture and pain almost everyday, both physically and mentally. I would get arthritis when I was older. I wouldn’t be my fearless self again. People would say things about me, not always things I would like hearing. They would look at me differently. But most importantly, people would treat me different. I wouldn’t be able to do things as well as I used too. I would have a permanent scar for the rest of my life, not only on my arm, but in my head and my heart. Good things would come out of this and so would bad. I would have to believe that God had a plan for me. As for Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans that I have for you, says the Lord. Plans to prosper you, and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope, and a future”, would have a major impact on my life for the next year. I would deal with surgeries, being hospitalized overnight, dozens of x-rays, MRI’s, arm braces, splints, appointments every month, physical therapy every week, and an arm that wouldn’t have full range of motion for at least a year. Who knew that just one mistake could cause all this. I sure know I didn’t. All from breaking my arm, my life would change, from this day on.