book- beanbag

(Place on page 6. after para 8.. "birthday cake")

Probably the weirdest fracture occurred by tossing a bean bag. There was a game out back then called "Toss-a-Cross", a variation of tic-tac-toe, where you throw a bean bag to turn over an X or an O and try to get three in a row to win. It was sort of like the corn hole game played during tailgating parties nowadays at sporting events.

I'm pretty sure "Toss-a-Cross" was a much- wanted Christmas present. I remember it was Christmas Day and I was finally able to play the game, this after rifling through my other gifts that morning. This was a pretty popular game back in the 60s, so I was excited to play.

I recall sitting on the sofa in the living room while my brothers set up the board. A few bean bags in, I flung the deciding soft bean bag underhand, hoping to yell out in victory. Instead, that terrible, familiar feeling hit me as I snapped my right tibia, merely from the force of my throw.That meant another trip to Philadelphia, via ambulance, even on Christmas, and another eight weeks in a plaster cast.

I vividly remember that fracture, maybe because it was Christmas, and how  cold it was outside as they loaded me on the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. The warm blankets covered my fragile, tiny, shivering body. Mom rode in the back of the ambulance with me, as Dad followed by car. My poor siblings stayed home to fend for themselves for a few hours.

The hospital was nicely decorated as they unloaded me from the warm ambulance to the icy Philadelphia air, to inside the noisy, busy lobby. I noticed from under the blanket people rushing in, all bundled up, carrying  red and green wrapped presents with big bows. Then they rolled me down the hall to the Cast Room, painfully transferring  me to the hard, cold table with the thin paper sheet, as I waited for a doctor to arrive to set and cast my broken leg.

In an hour or so, after the plaster started to dry, Dad would carry me to the car, load me into the back of our station wagon, and drive the journey home before the early winter dusk fell, home to celebrate what was left of Christmas.

 Pain doesn't take any holidays.