I used to love playing tag. I'm very competitive and would be the last to be it or catch someone quickly.

I'm not allowed to play it anymore.

I'm banned from the game.

No more.

Nada.

Wanna know why?

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I break my bones.

The last few time I played tag which was more than a year ago. I broke my thumb.

The time before that, I broke my foot.

And the time before that, I had stitches on my face.

Why? You might ask?

I play to win. I go all out. I gotta go fast.

It was the summer when I had gotten out of 4th grade and was going into 5th.

My best friend, S.B (her initials), was moving to Seattle and I wasn't going to see her in a long time and I still haven't seen her.

We had a "playdate/get together/last hangout/ whatever you want to call it" a few days before she moves.

We got bored, so we decided to play tag in their backyard.

They had bid backyard with grass, a patio with a shade that was on top of concrete flooring and 2 side yards. Just to say, their house was HUGE.

Anyway!

We got outside, played a few round and what-not.

They were very fast and agile. They were small too. Now, mix those together and you have a tiny nuclear-powered rocket.

S.B and her little brother who was not much younger than us kept on tagging me. I was getting fed up with it.

With all the energy I had left, I sprinted for them, herding them into the side yard. The zoomed around the corner.

My plan had finally worked!

They will be trapped and I can finally tag them!

I couldn't be more wrong.

As I turned the corner which should have led to my victory, my foot twisted on its side with the bottom facing inwards. I fell on top of it and CRACK!

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

I yelped with tears spilling from my eyes in a mixture of shock, pain, and fear.

I sat there in pain.

It took a bit for my friend and her brother to understand what was happening. They asked me if I was ok.

Not really.

Saying that my foot hurt would be an understatement.

It felt as if Satans WRATH was unleashed upon my foot.

It seared in pain as I sat there, tears pouring.

The odd thing is that I dint sob.

Even after the whole ordeal was over, they said that I dint really cry. Hot tears flew out along with whimpers, but I dint sob or scream at the top of my lungs. I just sat there, whimpering like a stabbed puppy.

My friends ended up getting their mom who already knew something was going on.

She asked me some mandatory questions as I put some ice on that she got for me.

I had mentally calmed down, not much changing physically. It hurt like hell, but I wasn't panicking in tears like a toddler when he would get a scratch with blood and think it was the end of the world. It's just that my tears dint want to stop. I was trying to stop them, but they kept on flowing out.

One thing that I will always remember about this situation is that she had me get up on my own.

Stand up with nothing but a hand to hold.

It sucked to say the very least.

A there family which consisted of S.B, her little brother and her mom were all small and skinny.

Ita not like they were starving. They had plenty of money and things because of their dad's job. They were all just born to be small. In fourth grade, I was bigger than S.B and almost as tall as her mom.

With them all being small, I knew for a fact that the mom could not carry me. Even under that circumstance, it still sucked.

At that age, my dad would give me a piggyback rides, I would climb on a couch and jump at him and he would carry me for a minute before putting me down. My mom would pick me up in a hug, spin me around and set me on the ground. So I was less than happy that my parents went there to help me out.

I simply did what I had to. I grabbed the moms hand, stood up and hopped inside with her holding my hand for balance.

It already felt like satans wrath when it was still and unmoving. Just imagine how much it hurt when it shook with every jump towards the door.

Excruciating pain.

I'm sure lots of you have had something similar or maybe even worse and I'm sorry that you had to go through that.

If you dint, then you should be glad. Because breaking your foot because you twisted it the wrong way is terrible. In this situation you would think I would have twisted or sprained it, but no. I broke my bones.

I got on the couch, lay down, took pain killers and iced it. You know, the usual.

I was still in pain by my foot just sitting there and I'm sure it was evident on my face. I dint want to talk or do anything. I just wanted to go home.

My friend and her family just looked at me as I sat there.

They started at me with pity.

In my head, I thought, "Don't look at me that way. I'm sure you feel bad for me (and thank you), but don't stare at me in pity as I try not to die. Yes, pain sucks, but the least you can do is make sure I'm ok then distract me from the pain. Put on a tv show, movie, or something! I don't want to think about it!"

They then decided to play a board game.

It wasn't a card game where you can sit where ever and just toss the other cards in the pile. No. It had to be a board game. A board game. A boring game.

It was the game Trouble of all things.

The game where you had to put basically all your body weight on the dome to make the dice roll.

The game where you had to go around the whole board.

Not a game for someone who can't move without having pain travel up their leg to the rest of their body.

They ended up playing for me, so I practically watched them play a board game as I was dying.

The only joy I get from that particular board game is watching the dice roll as I press the button thing and knocking out my opponent's pond.

I got neither joys.

My mom soon came to the house, talking to the other mom and I on what happened then soon helped me into the car and took me home.

In order to get into my house, you have to walk up a small yet steep hill.

I tried to limp my way over with the help of my mom, but it was hurting too much and I knew I would end up like Hansel and Grettle and roll down the hill, maybe getting a concussion that would knock my pain away. How pleasant that would sound.

My mom gave me a piggyback ride.

I guess there's no tumbling down a hill today.

Later on, I couldn't sleep because of pain, you know how it goes.

We went to the ER doctor and the doctor said (no more monkeys jumping on the bed!)

Jk

He said that as I fell on my twisted foot, my tendon, in my foot, moved so quickly that it broke the foot. It was the impact that broke it. It was the tendon. So basically I did a weird movement which resulted in my own body breaking itself. Isn't that nice?

I'm like Izuku. Breaking my own bones and everything.

You thought that was the end?

You were wrong.
(Vine reference anyone?)

I had to get a splint. A splint is like an odd cloth thing that hardens into the shape you want. Like a temporary cast that stays there thanks to ace wrap.

They tried to move my foot into a normal flat position, but no sir. My foot disagrees. It dint want to move that way. It couldn't.

And how did it tell me that?

More pain surging up my leg in addition to the pain I already have just because it's broken.

Keep in mind, there's no adrenaline. We were playing tag, so the adrenaline only lasted for a few seconds from the moment I broke it.

They tried several times to put it into the right position, but it wouldn't let them, so they just pushed it into the correct position as far as it can go. It hurt like hell and I only got like an hour of actual sleep that night. 

I went back tot he ER three times becuase it hurt so badly to be in that position. 

over the three times I went to the ER, they each gave me another splint which was not helpfull.  Until that one fateful day where I was blessed. 

They gave me a boot which let me move it into the position that I want. I still wasn't allowed to walk on it, but it was a relief.

it looked like this:

I went back to school with that on. I wasn't allowed to do PE because I wasn't allowed to walk without crutches then when I was able to walk, I was still not allowed to do PE After the doctor said I can take the boot off, he said that I was not allowed to run. In the end, I dint do PE for months in my 5th-grade year. 

I almost forgot to mention how much crutches suck.

You might think differently, but I will prove you wrong. You might think that they are fun because you can make them taller than they are supposed to be and then you just jump forward and it feels like your flying, but not when you have a foot that has a mild pain 24/7 and will hurt more when you make an impact. 

If you have it at the right height like your supposed to, then you have to move the crutches out (away from you) and forward then swing your good foot forward and then repeat. This is very tiring. It's worse when you are going up a hill or stairs. You have to put the crutches outwards like they are your wings in order to get somewhere. There were also multiple times when I was trying to go up a hill, but I was tired and I couldn't propel myself forward, so I was in midair, falling backward. My friends were behind me, so I was ok, but it was still scary. 

crutches also give you rashes in your armpits. It sucks. It only gets worse when you have a heavy backpack. Oh yeah! You can't carry anything in your hands when you have crutches either. You can't hold onto your phone or a textbook very easily.

Just having them around sucks too. In class, I would have to lean them on the table and the majority of the time they would fall on the floor, causing everyone's eyes to shoot towards me. 

It's hard to move around in tight spaces too. The legs would get caught on chairs or table legs or you couldn't even go through which leads you to walk around the entire classroom. 

All in all... breaking your foot sucks and is very painful. Not being able to walk is terrible because you can't do anything without lugging hunks of metal around. 

Don't try to break your foot. It's a bad idea. If you're going to break something then break a pencil.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.