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Write On! TWO VERY SHORT "E.R." STORIES:

 

December 27, 2019

by Makaila Marquette, English 7, Mrs. Didrikson

My Journey to the E.R

Have you ever wondered if loving your dog so much could get you sent to the E.R.? My campfire story is about when I had to take a trip to the E.R. One day when I was about 3 years old my mom had just picked me up from daycare, I was super excited to see my dog Lexi because she was my best friend at the time. At daycare I had gotten upset and Lexi always seemed to calm me down when I had gotten upset. When we came home my mom told me that Lexi was excited to see me too.

After my mom had told me that Lexi was excited to see me I grabbed my sparkly, blue monkey backpack, that I had owned at the time, and jumped out of the still running car. My stepdad saw us coming and opened the door so Lexi could come outside. After we locked eyes we started running towards each other. Since I was 3 years old I wasn't very tall, so my knees we're at her shoulder. So as we were running towards each other my knees had hit her shoulders, my knees buckled and I ended up doing a double backflip onto the pavement and landed on my head. At this time we had a bumpy driveway so there were tiny pebbles stuck to my hot, sticky skin.

At this time we lived in town, thank goodness for that, so the drive to the hospital was only a couple of minutes. And because I had just cracked open my head my mom had to get an ice pack and wrapped it in a towel for me, and we were off to the E.R. And me being the brat I was at the time I did not want to keep the ice pack on my head and I repeatedly tried to take the ice pack off my head. I also did not want to sit still in my car seat because I am very squirmy and I was mad at my mom. We eventually got to the E.R. When we got there I had to take a weird looking pill. Then the doctor got ready to give me stitches. All I really remember during the surgery is feeling nothing, and just holding my mom's hand and looking at her beautiful face and trying to calm myself down so I wouldn't move during my procedure. I ended up getting 6 stitches in the back middle part of my head. I didn't end up breaking my skull but I did split apart the skin, muscles, and tissues of my head.

After the surgery I remember I went home and the doctor said that I had to rest. At that time my step-grandma had been my nurse. In order to keep my stitches from falling out we had to put ointment on my stitches but since it was on my head my hair would get sticky, greasy and it felt gross. My daycare lady (Dione) was very nice, she had to put the ointment on 2-3 times a day. I ended up having to take this orange, liquid ibuprofen so I could deal with my pain. Sleeping was very difficult considering it was on the middle of the back of my head. And to make matters worse I have very thin hair so when Dione put the ointment on my stitches my hair would mat up into clumps. I couldn't take a bath for a couple of days after I got my stitches, otherwise they would fall out.

I still don't have any of my long, dark brown hair where I got my stitches. Although you can feel where my scar is still, it honestly just feels like a skinny goose egg on my head. I am lucky to have remembered this event because usually when you are "put under" you don't remember anything from that day, but I did. I got a temporary spot numbing pill so I remembered. Although I will never grow my hair back in that spot which is saddening, I feel as if I have grown stronger from this experience. To this day I remember this event because of how much of an experience it was, I learned that you can't always be so reckless, you have to watch your surroundings. I still love dogs to this day, they bring me joy and happiness but I feel as if I owe Lexi something special. I own two dogs, a Rottweiler and a French Bulldog, they both are very good puppies, although they both haven't taught as good of a lesson as Lexi has, although my puppies still make me happy every day. Many people have the same experiences but I have never run into them. So one day I hope to run into one of these people, and we can share our experiences. This is my story about the time I had to go to the E.R. and get stitches.

"Stitches"

by Hunter Steinberg, English 7, Mrs. Didrikson

It all happened one day in December. I remember it was cold because we had been told not to go out because we would freeze to death. My brother and I were playing a game called "Ball tag". Basically, it's where you grab a ball and try to hit someone else to tag them. It's not a game that's usually allowed in the house. We were being careful to not knock over anything since we knew our mom would get mad.

Then, my brother got hungry, so he grabbed a hot dog. He was going to cut up the hot dog but instead of cutting the hot dog, he cut himself! He screamed! I ran to find out what happened. When I got there his thumb was bleeding. I was freaking out so l called my mom. I told mom about everything, so they hurried to the house. They grabbed my brother and rushed to the hospital.

While they were gone, I tried to calm myself down. I started to watch TV. I am pretty sure it was "Dragon Ball" because that's what I usually watch when I get to choose. Hours later, or after about 6 episodes of "Dragon Ball", my mom called to tell me that they were coming home. When they got home they told me that my brother got what must have been 45 stitches in his thumb. I think the doctors glued his thumb nail. l tried to look at it but he pulled his thumb away from me. My brother got a reusable bandage.

Days later, my brother's thumb was getting a little better, but he kept telling my parents that his thumb hurt when he went to bed. My brother can be such a whiner. About 9 weeks later, my brother got the bandage off his thumb and it was healed. It still has a scar which he tries to make me feel guilty about. All it does is remind me that he should not use a knife or at least unfreeze his hot dog before cutting it. And that's how my brother cut his thumb.

 

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