One second, I was playing with the leaves.
The next, I was on the ground, screaming in pain.
I broke my arm that day. Dad rushed me to the ER. Luckily, the break was clean—nothing unusual for a kid to get. I gotwrapped up in a cast, took something for the pain, and was discharged within the day.
On my way out, a kind nurse gave me a lollipop.
I decided then and there that I wanted to be a healer. That I wanted to be the one wearing scrubs, on the other side of the pain,with the power to make it all better.
That day, I thought I’d never feel pain like that again.
I was wrong. Because this is a thousand times worse.
I’m clutching my belly, holding in my screams as Yulian rushes me into the ambulance. “Sir, you can’t come with us,” I hearone of the paramedics sa
