Friday February seventh, 2014 was more than just a normal Friday. It was game day. My freshman basketball team was playing Wakefield’s freshman team. I didn’t expect to win that game, but I didn’t believe it would affect the next six months of my life.

It was also my younger brother, Thomas’,  twelfth birthday. He’s always excited when his birthday comes around the corner and makes everyone aware of it. I was the same way when I was his age and to be honest, I was looking forward to his birthday, too. I enjoy the traditions of birthdays, especially when we get to eat the cake. I was thinking about that during the trip to Burlington High School, but once I got to the school: game on! Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be celebrating my brother’s birthday with him and this birthday would be one none of us would ever forget.

As soon as Burlington won the tip, they started to dominate the game. They were beating us up and down the court scoring basket after basket while we were struggling at executing set play. After the first quarter was over, I started on the court determined to turn this game around. As soon as Burlington passed the ball in, I was playing tenacious defense, making steals and denying my man from getting the ball. We started to score more and it started to become a winnable basketball game until one of their guards stole the ball wand was blazing down the court to execute a lay up. Not wanting to give up such an easy a basket, I tracked him down and attempted to block him on what seemed to be a routine fast break; it ended up being everything but routine. As he went up for his lay up, I met him in the air with my hand at the ready. To my surprise, the Wakefield player pushed off of me while in the air causing me to lose my balance and landed on my hand trying to catch myself. I looked up and felt a sharp pain shooting up my left arm. My arm was in a shape that I never thought was possible. As my coach walked over and the trainer looked at my arm in disgust, I knew I wouldn’t be singing my brother happy birthday.

From the court, I was rushed to Winchester hospital by my mother, arm in a splint. As soon as we got there, I was taken on a hospital bed and hooked up to an IV. The painkillers were able to palliate the pain.There wasn’t an orthopedic surgeon at the Winchester Hospital, so I had to be brought into Tufts in order for my arm to be set back into place. I didn’t get home until midnight snd when I got home I asked myself, “ Am I dreaming?”

It was an extreme adjustment the next week. I had to shower while wearing a special bag over my arm so the cast wouldn’t get wet and typing papers for school was more tedious than usually. Everyday tasks took an inordinate amount of time and assistance from my family. It was like living for two months without having a left arm.

The next week I went into surgery and a metal rod was put through the bone. After the surgery, I wasn’t able to play a sport in the spring and I wasn’t cleared to play until summer started due to my arm being susceptible to refracture. It took a lot of patience to recover, but now I am healed and stronger than ever. The metal rod is never leaving my arm so it will always be a constant reminder of what happened on February seventh, 2014 my brother’s twelfth birthday.