How My Wrist Was Broken (3 Versions)

First Version: Nobility Restrained

I was helping an old man cross the street in the middle of a tornadic thunderstorm with winds impacting at sixty-nine mph. His vision was impaired and he misjudged the step from off the curb. As he tilted over, I held on to both of his arms to break a fall. It was too late. The flooding wind-forced waters pulled him toward the street drain and his boney hands began to slip out of my grip. I was horrified because I lost control. The wind was pulling me down with him and all I could see was a tiny man being swallowed into the street hole with only head exposed ... his pruney face in wide-eyed terror!
Suddenly, in less than a second, I began to slide toward the opening, nearly going down with him. But I braced my straddling legs, propping one on each side of the drain while holding onto only one hand. The man's right arm changed from mine to grab my ankle. With double force, he strained and I reached for his elbow, both of us pulling with all our might until he was sucked outward. He squeezed through the opening and fell full force to my left side. The airstream thrusted our bodies parallel blocking the drain. I nearly fainted as the wind picked us up into the air and dropped us in the concrete whipping my hand sideways full force.

We were rescued by fire fighters and both taken by ambulances to the hospital. The old man suffered a mild heart attack and I had a double fracture in my wrist.

Later, the local and national news reported the incident and proclaimed me a heroine whose life was compromised to save his!

Second Version: Self-crediting With hints of mild narcissism

It was after a winter ice storm that I finally decided that with all my talents, I could once again hit the ice. It had been years because I was giving so much time to domestic matters. My sleep yielded a dream that prompted to make it the first thing I do the next morning.

I said a quick prayer of thanks when I saw the sun peak around the last of the snow clouds causing me to spring out of my bed and fiendishly jump into a few layers of winter wear. I even color coordinated with a lipstick red scarf, hat, and white mittens. Looking into the mirror, I liked what I saw and hurriedly headed out the door, my 1972 white skates hung over my left shoulder.

Driving down the quiet path to the lake, I saw others running toward the ominous circle of skaters, gliding in and out with a backdrop of skating music. It took me a little longer to put the skates on, squeezing my size larger feet into the leather uppers.
"This is so worth it," I thought, in spite of the pulsing throb in my toes. Then, forgetting how long it had been for me, my visions of grandeur overruled precaution. I ran to successfully jump onto the ice, throwing my arms up into the icy air embracing the joy.

I was so proud of myself that I decided to do a figure 8, first rushing forward, voraciously changing in reverse completing what would be the best foot cutting I ever did as others watched. It was so glorious, I decided to give them the show of a lifetime with a waltz jump, but once I cut over the other foot, I slid too close to the side rail and bumped into the light pole behind it. It was full impact when I not only bumped between the rail and the light like a pin ball, I swirled to the left and tripped over my own foot pushing me full force back on the ice. I stopped breathing for a second, scared to death I was dying.

Last thing I remember was someone calling 911. I found myself in the ER surrounded by some of the skaters whose shirts read "Rockefellar Center Ice Dancers".
I did not pass out from the agonizing pain. I was mortified and filled with the dread of a broken ego.

Third Version: Last of the Luggage Ladder

There was a tornado warning blasting from our weather radio while the weather channel was prompting us to prepare for the worst. Otherwise, all was cozy and quiet as our grandchild was going to sleep. But I have always worked miracles under pressure and decided to hang a new curtain over her closet. The stool was too short, so I found a suitcase and placed the stool on TOP. I was confident that I could hang the new curtain when suddenly, I heard a popping sound, then a knocking noise.
" Uh oh," I thought. "Hubby would flip if he saw me do this now!"
I even recited my favorite scripture so that I could accomplish what seemed impossible.
" I can do all things through Chirst who strengthens me". Yeh. That'll do it. My grandchild was scared. "Careful, Nanah." But long as I was exampling the faith of Christ, how could I go wrong? After all, I've used it many times before. It's been well exampled and witnessed. It was a keeper. I don't want to call it 'magic', but it seemed to describe its quick results

Too bad. Forgot about human will and obstinance as the warning for me to get down was probably His prompt. I slid full force off the stool that was tumbling off the suitcase and fell like an iron grate sideways. I knew something was wrong and my husband ran in terror toward the bedroom
"I'm all right!" I assured him, confirming that I wasn't dead. But I was not okay.  I lost my breath, my head was swimming and thought I was going to pass out. My wrist was in horrific pain and it was knotted up. I was seeing black around me and nearly fainted. My husband couldn't help ask 'why' I would do such a thing, putting myself in danger. We had to go to ER in the middle of a horrible thunderstorm, street lights and utility wires falling behind us like vines from the sky.
Once at the ER, we were cautioned to go to the hallway where a tornado was confirmed to have touched down. It wasn't long, however, before they took an x-ray to diagnose two fractures and a dislocation, making me a temporary tape cast.

I cried when I got home, wishing I could have spent the last two hours in bed instead of having this injury. Next time, I recite a scripture like that, I will make sure I'm not standing on luggage. I'd travel better!