Unfortunately I don’t have any stories about my hell-raising, daredevil youth. Don’t get me wrong, I had my fare share of bumps, bruises, cuts and scrapes; but the only bone I’ve ever broken was my thumb.
I don’t even have a great story behind this one. Me and another kid in the neighborhood were running down the street. We may have been playing football, but I think we were having a foot race. As we were swingin our arms, he ended up hitting my hand (my thumb in particular) and there it went.
I had to wear a cast for six weeks. This was one of the old plaster casts that people would get all their friends to sign. The same ones that started to smell after a couple of weeks .
Actually, I’m pretty sure I’ve broken a couple of my toes on numerous occasions. However, they don’t really put toes in to cast so I never really know for sure if they’re broken or not.
Thanks for stopping by Rebuilding Rob. Be sure to like, comment and subscribe to my blog below. It’s greatly appreciated! Also, feel free to follow me on social media as well! Check out my most recent posts as well as some earlier, related posts:
- Winter is Coming
- The Art of the Game Face (and Taking It Off)
- The Sony Betamax of Gaming: Why My First Console Was Better Than Yours
- Learning to live again
- I Gots to Know
The article “broken bones” first appeared in Rebuilding Rob.
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