“Chris, stop doing that!” My dad yelled as I was sliding down the banister. I was about 8 at the time and didn’t see any harm in going down the railing on the stairs. I thought it was just harmless fun. But now I now what damage it can do after my dad told me his story.
My dad’s story starts off when he was in 3rd grade at John Muir Elementary School. He had a friend named Jimmy Scisero that would go “banister sliding” with my dad at lunch breaks. On one particular day, they were on the second floor and racing to the lunch line, which was on the first floor. So of coarse my dad was sprinting to the banister to slide down. He basically belly floped onto the railing like an over-weighted-penguin-that-had-too-much-to-eat and fell off of the railing onto the first floor. He was knocked unconscious and his wrist was broken.
When he first woke up from being unconscious, he starts yelling and screaming because of all the pain. The principle heard him screaming so the principle called my dad’s mom. My grandma then took my father to my grandfather, because he was a doctor and he could analyze my dad’s injury.
My grandfather figured out that my dad had a broken wrist and his spleen was ruptured. My grandfather then carried my dad to the hospital, which was 2 blocks away. At the hospital, they had to put my dad “under the knife” so they used anesthesia to knock him out. The doctors removed his spleen and put his arm in a plaster cast. My dad was all healed after a couple weeks and everything was back to normal.
The moral behind this story is to not go down the banister, or, to go down the banister and not get hurt. Either way, my dad’s accident was a hard way to teach a lesson.
My dad’s story starts off when he was in 3rd grade at John Muir Elementary School. He had a friend named Jimmy Scisero that would go “banister sliding” with my dad at lunch breaks. On one particular day, they were on the second floor and racing to the lunch line, which was on the first floor. So of coarse my dad was sprinting to the banister to slide down. He basically belly floped onto the railing like an over-weighted-penguin-that-had-too-much-to-eat and fell off of the railing onto the first floor. He was knocked unconscious and his wrist was broken.
When he first woke up from being unconscious, he starts yelling and screaming because of all the pain. The principle heard him screaming so the principle called my dad’s mom. My grandma then took my father to my grandfather, because he was a doctor and he could analyze my dad’s injury.
My grandfather figured out that my dad had a broken wrist and his spleen was ruptured. My grandfather then carried my dad to the hospital, which was 2 blocks away. At the hospital, they had to put my dad “under the knife” so they used anesthesia to knock him out. The doctors removed his spleen and put his arm in a plaster cast. My dad was all healed after a couple weeks and everything was back to normal.
The moral behind this story is to not go down the banister, or, to go down the banister and not get hurt. Either way, my dad’s accident was a hard way to teach a lesson.
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