In the spirit of Throwback Thursday, I thought I’d share a post from last month, from my other blog. I haven’t had new material for it lately, but I should be on the road soon. Enjoy.

As I sit here in my fart smelling recliner in achy pain after a wake and bake session, I think about the other bones I’ve broken throughout my career as a stunt man. I know this doesn’t quite fit under an Uber Legend, but this falls under the other stories category.

Broken bone number 1, my left wrist. My sister and I took a different bus home from school so we could have access to a different location of the military housing base we lived; I was in fourth grade and she in third. I think I may have made her come with me, there was a huge ditch with a huge tree branching over it and tied to it, was a long rope with bike handle bars—of course.

After a swing or two, while out on the rope, one of my sweaty palms slipped off a handle bar. I was still pretty high up and landed on my wrist. I had never broken a bone before then, but I knew it was broken. I balled the grueling long walk home in a excruciating pain.

Broken bone number 2, my ring finger on my left hand. I slipped on some wet grass running through it like a dumbass and jammed my finger into a sprinkler head. At the hospital, where I had become famous in Orthopedics, the doctor had to twist the bone back into place. Most painful 1.5 seconds of my life (before many coughs with this broken rib I currently be rockin’).

Broken bone number 3, my left elbow, kind of had a theme going on back then. If I remember correctly some boy from my sister’s class was talking crap to her–stupid kid stuff. For some reason it escalated stupidly and I thought it was smart to kick him. He caught my foot, dragged me forward a bit before yanking my feet out from underneath me. Broken bone number three.

It wasn’t a bad break, just a hairline fracture, but I had to wear a stupid splint in a sling. While in the schools library, I stumbled onto my sister’s class sitting at a large table. Her teacher made a joke about her student and me referencing the Karate Kid, the whole class laughed at me. Stupid bitch.

Broken bone number 4, my right fibula, this one was painful. I don’t understand how this one happened. I was riding a bike, I popped a wheelie and leaned too far back, but I didn’t fall. I landed on my feet, easy right–nope. My fibula broke and I dropped like an elephantiasis sack.

Broken bone number 5, this wasn’t a broken bone, but I tore tendons in my right ankle trying to ollie over a trash can, like I had done so many times before. This time, I rolled my foot off my skateboard and—pop. I both heard it and felt it rip. My foot swelled to the size of a football and I was in a cast for a very long time.

Broken bone number 6, my right hand, in an argument I tried to punch out a car window for some stupid reason. I didn’t. I fractured my hand. I was wrapped up in a splint for a little bit. Dummy.

Broken bone number 7, my right foot, switched up my theme for a bit. I accidentally kicked the side of a walk-in pantry as I entered and cracked a bone just behind my pinky toe or something. Fucking hurt. A lot. I had to work with it too, because I couldn’t afford to take time off work and they wouldn’t cast it because of it’s location.

Broken bone number 8, this stupid ass rib. Apparently my mutant powers are just now manifesting, and I have the ability to produce super bone breaking coughs. Yeah, lucky me. Its been a few weeks, so the peak of the pain is gone.

I think I missed one. I think there may have been another skateboarding injury in there I’m forgetting, there were so many twists and pulls and sprains and strains and raspberries and whatnot. I had some knee problems that started at eight that got me locked up in full legged cast for awhile—more than once. I was pretty famous for being in a cast of some sort.

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