When I was four years of age, I was a very active child. I loved to run; I loved to play. And no attire could prevent me from running or playing, even Sunday church clothes and an impending nap time. So, as I was running to my room after arriving home from church, I didn't think anything about it. I probably should have, though.
Multiple factors played into the breaking of the arm scenario which is about to unfold. First, I had removed my shoes. Second, I was wearing stockings, which provide little to no grip between my foot and the floor. Third, we don't have a carpeted house; the floor of my family's home is mostly tile, with some linoleum around our bedrooms. Finally, I was running. Those factors, when added together, can potentially be hazardous. And of course, I slipped in the hallway outside of my bedroom, landed smack on the ground, with my arm twisted and somehow underneath me.
Well, of course I did not handle that situation well. I have worked in a nursery and I have ample babysitting experience. I'm not much more aware of how children are capable of making bad situations much worse. Now, since I was only four, there are gaps in my memory from the time of the fall to my arrival at the hospital. I remember my parents trying to figure out what happened to their screaming child. I remember getting an ice cream treat, which I thought was grand. And I remember waiting in the emergency room.
Now, allow me at this point in time to explain that I was a pretty happy child. I was precious, of course. And like a lot of children, I would be happy and play even while injured. I don't get it now; if I broke my arm today I would whine and milk it for all it's worth. But apparently I was playing in the car on the way to the emergency room. This led to my mother scolding me, and trying to figure out if I really was hurt or if I was putting on an act. It was difficult to tell, because my arm did not have an obvious break in it and there was no blood, or gore, or other telling signs of a ghastly wound. But I was also very sensitive to scoldings, and I reacted very strongly to them. I hate to get in trouble. And as a child, I hated it even worse. And since I was a fairly good child (oh, how different than my little sister, ha ha ha), I did not require frequent punishment and therefore handled normal, very mild punishment as though it were the end of the world. This fussing in the car was no different.
So we arrived at the hospital, and after waiting what felt like a thousand years in the emergency room, it's finally my turn to be examined. As they're asking me routine questions, I say, at some point, that my mother was angry at me. Little did I know the consequences of those words. Remember, good child = rare punishment. Rare punishment = inability to cope with normal consequences. Scolding at play = consequences. Inability to cope with scolding and questions from nurses = trouble for mommy.
And to top it all off, my arm had been fractured near my elbow joint in such a way that if it had been maliciously twisted by a person, the same results could have been achieved as were achieved by the simple slipping and falling upon my arm.
Let me just say right now that my mother has never injured me in her life. I rarely had to be spanked, and even the few spankings I did receive were very mild. I guess the doctors did not know that, though. And so they began to question her.
"Mrs. Carolyn's Mom, did you twist Carolyn Kate's arm?" Well, this did not go over well, and my mom vehemently denied everything.
"If you twisted her arm, just tell us."
"I did not twist her arm!"
I am sure that I am glad that I did not witness that glorious scene. Anyway, in the end, my mother was cleared of the offense. They were able to figure out the real story from what I said, that I had broken my arm by slipping and falling, and my mommy continued to be able to not-hurt me. And, I got a hot pink cast out of the deal. I'm sure I looked adorable with it (of course), and I was able to use it as a paper weight in preschool (which I thought was fabulous, because no one else had a paper weight for their coloring sheets).
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