![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bironicWhat's this?
And thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elynittria for the extra icons, so there can be a new one for each day. ♥
1. Elementary School
What I remember of falling through the door is this:
I was eight. It was summer. My mom, my sister and I were playing in the backyard, and at least two of us must have gone in the house for something, because I was coming back outside and the storm door was swinging shut in front of me. I reached out to catch the door before it closed, only my hand hit the glass instead of the metal bar across the middle, and I went straight through it.
I remember reaching out, and then I remember being on my hands and knees on the patio on the other side. I think I was crying. There must have been broken glass all around me.
I remember my mom rushing over and taking me back into the garage, sitting me down, calling our pediatrician. I was staring at a small bleeding cut on the back of my left hand.
I remember riding in the car on the way to the doctor, and my mom saying she was more worried about the cut on my face than the one on my hand. I don't think I'd realized there was one on my face.
I remember lying back on the table at the pediatrician's, the doctor saying we didn't need to go to the emergency room, while my mom and sister watched from the bench in the corner (my mom said years later that it was one of the worst things she'd felt, watching me be stitched up on that table). I remember the sting of the local anesthetic at the top of my nose where the cut was, and the tug of the stitches (four) going in. I don't remember being frightened, only sniffly and maybe a little stunned. I remember the doctor saying there shouldn't be much of a scar. (There is one, but it's pale, a little white slash on the right side of my nose emerging from beneath my glasses nosepad.)
I remember that afterwards, my parents replaced the glass in the storm door with metal screens.
And thank you to
elynittria for the extra icons, so there can be a new one for each day. ♥1. Elementary School
What I remember of falling through the door is this:
I was eight. It was summer. My mom, my sister and I were playing in the backyard, and at least two of us must have gone in the house for something, because I was coming back outside and the storm door was swinging shut in front of me. I reached out to catch the door before it closed, only my hand hit the glass instead of the metal bar across the middle, and I went straight through it.
I remember reaching out, and then I remember being on my hands and knees on the patio on the other side. I think I was crying. There must have been broken glass all around me.
I remember my mom rushing over and taking me back into the garage, sitting me down, calling our pediatrician. I was staring at a small bleeding cut on the back of my left hand.
I remember riding in the car on the way to the doctor, and my mom saying she was more worried about the cut on my face than the one on my hand. I don't think I'd realized there was one on my face.
I remember lying back on the table at the pediatrician's, the doctor saying we didn't need to go to the emergency room, while my mom and sister watched from the bench in the corner (my mom said years later that it was one of the worst things she'd felt, watching me be stitched up on that table). I remember the sting of the local anesthetic at the top of my nose where the cut was, and the tug of the stitches (four) going in. I don't remember being frightened, only sniffly and maybe a little stunned. I remember the doctor saying there shouldn't be much of a scar. (There is one, but it's pale, a little white slash on the right side of my nose emerging from beneath my glasses nosepad.)
I remember that afterwards, my parents replaced the glass in the storm door with metal screens.
no subject
Date: Jan. 15th, 2008 04:03 am (UTC)Hmm. It's possible that it might be a public/private difference (mostly related to class size, perhaps). I went to first grade twice (due to stupid rules regarding admission age)—once in a public school, and once in private (Catholic) school. I wish I could remember more details, but it seems to me in hindsight that the private school had more discipline.
no subject
Date: Jan. 16th, 2008 01:30 am (UTC)