Being a Writer

The Hurt Wrist

By: Diya Godavarti

I woke up early one morning, got dressed up and came down for breakfast.  As soon as I took a spoon of cereal I screamed, “Ouuuuuuuuui.”  My parents came down to see what was going on.  “MY WRIST HURTS!!!!” I cried and my Amma checked my arm.  I screamed and I cried some more.  Looks like you have a pulled muscle or a sprained wrist, said Appa.  My Amma thought I needed to go to the doctors, but I didn’t want to go.  I wanted to go to school.  My Amma wrote a note and told Mrs. Lane and that day I struggled in pain.  Finally, Mrs. Lane told me to go to the nurse and I went down the stairs CLUMP, CLUMP, CLUMP to the kind, sweet-hearted nurse.  “I have a very sprained wrist,” I said.  The nurse called my Amma ring a ding ding went the phone.   My Amma picked me up and I jumped up and hugged her.  She took me to the doctors.  She said, “We have to do whatever the doctor says.”  A very nice lady took an xray of my wrist.  “No broken bones!” she said and I felt relieved.  I had to rest my wrist and keep it safe.  I did and in a couple of days, it was like brand new.