Monday 9/20 Free Write-Figurative Language(strongest emotion)

The most intense pain I have ever felt was in the second grade when I got stitches for the first time in my life. It was a quiet Friday afternoon until some family friends came over. Their children sat and played with my brother and I. My brother and his friend were playing basketball in the basement while my friend and I were just sitting on the bed and talking. The constant dribbling of the ball made me feel like there was an earthquake in the basement or that the place was about to erupt. Suddenly, without any thought of action, my brother’s friend threw the ball towards my direction. I quickly placed my hands on my head, the left hand above the right. The ball hit the picture frame that was on the wall behind the bed. The glass from the frame came shattering down like a thunderous storm. I removed my hands from my head and then realized that the skin on my left thumb was slowly starting to open apart. Suddenly, blood started gushing out like a waterfall. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. We all quickly ran upstairs to tell my parents. While I was running big red blots of blood stained my basement floor. My skin was opening more and more and my clothes were now red instead of white. Everyone came rushing over to me as I screamed at the sight that I saw. I felt as if my skin was pulling itself away from each other. I felt the stream of blood running throughout my left hand. My uncle tried to wash my thumb with water in the sink. The feeling of the water on my open wound was even more excruciating. It was like putting a nail in the open wound. I wrapped loads of tissue paper on my thumb and was taken to the hospital. My eyes were flooded with tears. Rivers ran down my face. I was speechless; all I could do was try not to feel my skin being torn apart from the inside out. At the emergency room the doctors quickly gathered, removed the red tissue paper, and put a bucket under my thumb while the volcano continued to erupt and spout out lava. I sat on the bed while they brought the tools for stitching. “I don’t want stitches! Please!” I cried. The doctors gave me two shots on my thumb. I felt the needle drive through my skin and then through my bone-twice. All I could do is scream while they drilled the anesthetic in. Then they brought over the scissors and thread-like material to close the wound with. My mom held me tight and told me to look away while they held my thumb. I just stared at the odd scissor that they had. It had two holes at the tip and I saw them put the thread through it just like a sewing needle. I looked away with tears running down my eyes as they started to sew the skin together like a piece of cloth. Even though the pain had decreased I still sensed the thread passing through my skin. I looked at how it slithered form side to side on my skin. It was like a snake going through a maze. I don’t know how long the anesthetic lasted but I started to feel as if the nerve in my whole left arm was being pulled towards my thumb as they pulled the stitches together tightly. The wound was finally closed. But the pain wasn’t. Sixteen stitches-eight inside and eight outside to make the seal. The pain lasted even after I removed the stitches. But that was another painful day in which the doctor first snapped the stitches with a hole-puncher-like tool (except without the holes). The cold metal of the tool on my skin made me shiver. He then pulled out the stitches from my skin as if pulling a plant out from the ground. I screamed. Just when I thought it was over I had to go to physical therapy because my tendon had been torn and my thumb was stiff and dead like a corpse. The therapist put my hand in a container with wax. She then removed it and began to move my white, gloved thumb. I felt like she was going to break my thumb in half…it was like trying to break a pen. Eventually, after 3 months, the corpse was brought back to life; I was able to move my thumb. But to this day I sometimes feel the shortness of my tendon preventing me from moving my thumb with ease. Even though my wound is healed the scar reminds me that the pain was real.