“Abbie, watch out!” my mom screeched. I spun around and SMACK! I collided with the door. I was eight years old and that was the first time I had ever gone to the Emergency Room. Luckily it was the first, and the last.

It all started on a gloomy Sunday afternoon. We had just come back from a long, long mass, and there was nothing to do. I wanted to go outside and play in the back yard or jump on the trampoline. But I couldn’t, it was to frigid and damp. Thanks to the weather, I had nothing to do and because I had nothing to do, my mom gave me something to do.

“Abbie if you can’t find anything to do, then you should clean your room,” my mom demanded. “No!”, I cried. Cleaning my room was the last thing I wanted to do, but she had already made up her mind. As I walked down the stairs I was thinking, this can’t be that bad, my room is quite clean. I will put a few things here, a few things there, how long could it take?

Boy, was I wrong! I opened my door and I was knee high in junk. It looked like a tornado had picked up a junkyard and catapulted it into my room. It was way too much for me to clean alone, so of course, I called my mom to come down and help. Even though it was my room my mom was doing most of the work. So while she cleaned I was messing around shoving things in random places. I started walking backwards when I heard, “Abbie, watch out!” I spun around and SMACK! I collided with the door.

At first it didn’t hurt, but soon after, it felt as if thousands of knives were stabbing me in my head. My head was throbbing and there was nothing I could do about it. My mom saw what had happened and rushed up the stairs to get towels and get my dad. I slowly made my way up the stairs like a sloth climbing a tree. I was starting to feel dizzy and light headed.

I got in the car with a towel on my head. As my dad sped to the Emergency Room, I was wondering what was going to happen. I didn’t know if I was going to have to get a shot or have to have surgery. I didn’t know anything, but I did know that whatever was going to happen, I was scared for it.

I got to the Emergency Room and the doctor came into the room. I had to explain what happened and then he examined it. I ended up having to get stitches, I don’t remember if getting them hurt, but I’m sure they did. But I do remember talking them out. I sat in the chair trembling like a cold, wet dog. The doctor came at me with a sharp tool. I closed my eyes, and snip! It was done. I didn’t even feel it. After all of it was over, I ended up not even having a scar. In fact, I don’t even remember what eye it was on, and it didn’t even hurt. Okay well maybe a little!