the P.Pole

Today I woke up with a sharp pain in my right wrist. It felt like the tendon was off or something (like a cracked knuckle gone wrong, if you know what that feels like). I thought it was nothing but I soon found out my grandfather had actually fallen and broken–i.e. completely snapped–his wrist. i think the radius was what snapped. Anyway, this was, without a doubt, many times worse than my fractured wrist in grade eight. I think it was sympathy pains that I was feeling.
The whole family headed for Scarborough Grace Hospital and had him admitted. During the time that I would’ve otherwise spent at church, I kept my grandfather company as he went through the normal paces of a hospital patient. It was particularly sickening (yet undeniably cool) to watch the doctor and nurse literally pull my grandfather’s wrist apart (lengthwise, don’t be scared) and put it back together. What was awesome was that my grandfather took it like a man and never made a sound. Or maybe the localized freezing was just that good… Either way, it looked Fing painful. Cool and painful.
That was my morning. I’m sure my grandfather’s going to be okay (he’s home now, probably watching TV). What was awesome was that moments after getting it wrapped in a cast my he started swinging his arm around exclaiming “Hey! It doesn’t hurt anymore. Let’s go home.” I think that doctor did too good of a job freezing the arm.