Ending Friendship

 Playfulness.

   This is fun. Sunny day; I climb a large orange tree with a schoolmate, Diego, that grows behind his home.
Panic.
   Yelp! I missed! I was swinging through the branches with the skill of a spider monkey and now I'm falling, face-first, with my hands parallel to the ground...
Fear.
   Diego's father appears from within the house--he rushes to my side and I feel from him a mixture of concern, apprehension, and authority--he is here to help, I can tell that, but while I know he will help me, I feel something foreign from him as well, something I would later guess as his probable and immediate evaluation of my father's concern, apprehension, and authority when he hears of the accident. The flashes of empathized light I saw were almost invisible within the frightening flares of pain... to be recognized through retrospect but lost in the moment.

Sadness.
   We drive to the hospital. I sit with my forehead on the window, looking out the driver's side of the car and sniffling as I ache. My forearm is visibly broken. When I get to the hospital I will find out that close to my wrist both my radius and ulna had shattered in a few places. My five year old classmate, Diego, speaks up with curious concern in his voice, "Dad, why is he crying?"
Annoyance.
   I want to ask him how he can ask that... what's wrong with him? How can he be so oblivious? We arrive at the hospital. Soon my father arrives as well--Diego's dad must have alerted my dad but I don't recall it happening. I must not have been present for the phone call.

Love.

   "Dad!" I cry out. He was yards away less than a second ago, now I am embraced firmly. We are in the waiting room. He is calm and quiet and I can tell we both feel much better now that he is here. He speaks with doctors and I don't understand all of the words. My wrist is broken and it must be set, but I don't know what that means.
Curiousity.

   The hospital is new to me. Before now, I've only ever seen doctors to receive awkward physical examinations that left me feeling strange and vulnerable. So much has been going on that my curiousity is creating a new reality to examine, evaulate, and understand--it is far away from my pain--this hospital is full of trinkets, diagrams, and smartly dressed men and women wearing confident countenance and even, sometimes, genuine smiles. These people are unique to my experience.

Concern.

   I meet with a male pediatrician who speaks directly to me and not my dad like I am used to adults doing. He smiles often and has a reassuring voice that makes me believe he cares . Sometimes he is serious but mostly he is aloof and amiable. Soon he asks me to redress myself in a patient's attire and leads me to a bed next to machines which, after I am hooked up, are used to monitor my heart-rate and breathing. The smiley doctor tells me he will return after a while.

Excitement.

   Cool! I've just realized that if I hold my breath, I can alter the readout of one of the monitors beside me. I point out this exciting discovery to my father and he chuckles lovingly. I play with this for a while before my dad reprimands me, he is concerned it will attract the attention of the doctor's, he reminds me that they are monitoring to make sure I am alright and that my actions could cause them undue concern. I obey, but only after some childish games of endearing disobediance.

Enjoyment.

   As an explorative, curious boy I was entranced and mesmerized by the new frontier I had fallen into. Inspired and infused with interest, the achy arm resting at my side did nothing to allay my excitement. There were diagrams everywhere, endless information about my body on the walls, and female bodies too! It was amazing and despite the experience that brought my here, I was full of joy.

Apprehension.

   The smiley doctor returned with a tighter smile and a serious look in his eyes. Now bedside, his handsome face is close to me as he explains, "Jason, your bone is broken in such a way that it must be forcefully aligned so the bones to not heal incorrectly. Do you understand?" I nod quickly, innocently "This will hurt, it may hurt a lot. I want to ask you, Jason; will you be my friend after this is done?"

   "Yes, of course I will be your friend!" I speak swiftly and with immediate affection.

  With both hands he searched gently for the proper grip on my wrist and forearm... then...

Agony.

   "I'm not your friend anymore!" sobbing, "I'm not your friend anymore!" wailing, "I'm not your friend anymore!" weeping, eyes tightly shut above a grimace, tears leak and form streams down my face. The doctor disappeared. My father consoled me as best as he could.

Nostalgia.

   As a young man, looking back, I can imagine the doctor's sadness. Not because I wasn't his friend anymore as my mournfully sung words emoted, but because he was aware of just how much pain... relative to my previous experince... he knew I wasn't prepared for what had to happen and that there had been no realistic way to ready me. He knew his job was like that sometimes, but it never made his feelings less grave, only more familiar--he was like me, empathezing in a most humane way; the only difference was he'd done it many times before and endured his own, profound pains. Indeed, this doctor probably knew my pain better than I knew it, he was aware of what I was not--that this pain was only the beginning of greater, more confusing pain to come...

Author's Note

Such an amusing memory... this also happened to me. I played with a very direct method of setting tone, tell me how it influenced your read, you know, whether it was visual displeasing or pleasing and so on...

Reviews

[Azaradelle]

Uniquely written.

A beautiful piece portraying such a powerful theme.
Your choice of words are superb, and the piece flowed beautifully, making it a joy to read aloud.
Although intelligently written, you manage to depict a child's perspective wonderfully throughout. The piece captures a reader within the first few lines, and without editorialising, plants him in his shoes.
The ending sent shivers up my spine, and will definitely circle my mind for days to come.

Well done.

Yrs.

Azaradelle.

[yinseriv]

I really was captured by the way you are able to assign motivation to others and keep them human in the midst of a young childs pain.