My tipped wheelchair

My dad wrote about when I tipped my wheelchair. This is what happened, from my point of view.

The day started out like any other Sunday: We sat down in the dining room to eat breakfast, then we did the meal plan for the week. But my mom was also helping me with setting up my planner, too. I had just brought some pens into the dining room, but while wheeling up to the table, I dropped a pack of them. And I have a grabber that was in my bedroom, but I could also bend over from my chair to pick stuff up, so that’s what I did, as I was feeling lazy and didn’t want to go all the way across the house to get my grabber. But then something unexpected happened: When I was bending over, my chair tipped.

I caught myself with my hands, but it hurt my right foot pretty badly, so I was scream-crying in pain while my mom screamed for my dad, who was in the main bathroom (again, all the way across the house), who was cleaning the bathroom. He ran into the dining room and helped my mom flip my wheelchair and unbuckle me. Once they moved my wheelchair out of the way, my mom put her hand underneath my right foot, which was bleeding, so they tightly (but not too tightly) wrapped it in gauze. Then they had to remove the tablecloth from the dining table and get it underneath me. Then they used the tablecloth to drag me into the family room, where the couch was, where they had to heave-ho me onto the couch. There I was able to sit up and turn so my dad could put me into my chair.

After that, my dad lifted me into the car and then began the hour drive to the ER. I, of course, had dad’s left hand behind him the whole time squeezing it to death. But my parents called ahead of time, so by the time we got there, we were able to get to a room immediately. We, of course, waited for a bit, then a doctor came in to examine me. The pain was very extreme in my right foot, but when he examined me, we discovered more pain in both my collarbones, my left hand, left ankle, and middle back. I’m sure we were all terrified when I told the doctor about the back pain, because I have scoliosis. Thankfully, nothing was broken, but my foot was still in extreme pain, and the wound from the fall was still open.

At first the doctors said that it could just be glued closed. (Glue? What is this, an art project??) But then my mom said that I rolled around a lot in my sleep and the glued wound could open up and start bleeding at night and we wouldn’t know. So the doctors decided to do stitches and the glue, just to be safe. Now, I do not like stitches, but I knew that if I didn’t want to come back to the ER, I would have to get the stitches. So I agreed to the stitches.

The doctors said that to get me to feel no pain, they would put on numbing cream then an injection. Now, them saying numbing cream reminded me of the time when I had to get 4 teeth taken out (ask me another time, this is my foot story, not my braces story), and they called the numbing stuff “numbing spray” when it was actually a numbing needle. So I told them “I’m fine with needles. Do what you need to do. I don’t care. But don’t lie to me.” But even though it was numbing cream, it didn’t work. I felt it, and yet again squeezed my dad’s hand to death. But once the stitches were in (I think they did it a bit too tight, cuz my skin is scrunched up permanently there now), they let us go home.

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