Picture a little four-year-old tyke with white hair walking around inside the frame of a house being built. The tyke is me and the house is my parents' home in Vegas. Construction materials are everywhere--sheet rock, staple guns, 2x4's, etc. The contractor, a small dude named Russ who has been the brunt of family jokes for years now, wants to show us the balcony (I think?). There is 1200 lbs. of sheet rock in front of the door, however. So, he tells us to stand back as some people try to move it out of the way. Well, let's just say I didn't stand back far enough. The sheet rock tipped over onto my body, and I hit my head on the ground. (If you ask me, I will show you a scar/scar tissue on my forehead that is hidden by my hair for the most part). My scraped up head was the least of the doctor's worries, because I had shattered the biggest bone in my body--my right femur. Let me remind you that this was back in the day when you couldn't use metal rods to correct a broken femur. The way to go was a body cast. So, for the next two weeks I was in the hospital, and the next four months I was in a body cast. Four months, people. Now this might sound like a crappy *expletive* situation, and I will get to that, but trust me, there were benefits. Or at least my hyper, positive, unscathed little four-year-old mind thought so. Here's why:
1. I was in the hospital over Christmas=the whole ward showered me with gifts
2. I'm pretty sure I only ate popsicles in the hospital
3. Dude, I was in a wheelchair for a short while. Wheel chair and little kid=fun
4. I was the center of attention for four months
5. Being in a stiff body cast did not stop me from moving around. I simply slithered across the floor. You know the part in the animated How the Grinch Stole Christmas movie when the Grinch slithers out of a house that he robbed of Christmas cheer? That's what I looked like. Except I used my arms to help myself out. Anyway, my four-year-old arms were bulging (probably).
6. About 5 million more people could sign my cast because it was on my WHOLE BODY.
7. I had a legitimate excuse for not showering.
8. I could totally play the sympathy card when I didn't want to eat vegetables. All anyone would have to do was look at me. I was a pathetic little piece of plaster.
The crappy things about breaking my leg:
1. I was in the hospital for Christmas
2. Getting an itch=too bad for me. Just embrace the torture.
3. There was a big hole in the cast where that certain area of the body allows you to use the potty. So my mom made me specialized undies that went over the cast. I looked seriously white trash.
That's pretty much it. I was a happy little camper in that miserable little cast, even though I looked something like this: