Between a Rock and Hard Place

Posted: December 5, 2012 in Ripple Effect

Joseph M.


            In the summer of 2012 my family and I had quite a fright. For vacation we decide to try the mountains of Gatlinburg, Tennessee, instead of the house we regularly rent a CinnamonBeach. My mom and I had been waiting for vacation all summer. Eight year old Nicholas was extremely excited to get to the mountains; all he wanted to do was run and hike the trails. Ten year old Brian just wanted to get out of the car. My dad was arguing with the GPS, insisting he was right. We finally arrived, and everyone was ecstatic. While we were there we rented a cabin up even higher in the mountains. On our last day in Tennessee, we visited a state park with a freshwater creek running through it. After lunch, we decided to take a walk along it. 

My brother Brian and I were told we could walk ahead of our mom and dad. After about ten minutes, my other brother, Nicholas, started running toward us. He began shouting “MOM SAYS WE ALL NEED TO COME BACK TO THE …” his eyes filled with fear as his legs and arms frantically swung through the air. As he fell his legs straddled the rock and his head flew forward and hit a jagged rock. He immediately started crying; Brian and I exchanged glances and then moved forward toward Nicholas quickly. However we did not too quickly; we didn’t want to suffer the same incident Nicholas had just encountered.

When we got our brother we saw tears mixed with blood running down his right cheek. I automatically picked him up and held my shirt against the gash along his eyebrow. Nick looked up at me and between his tears mumbled, “Am I going to die?” I replied “No.” It was a bad wound, and it would probably need stiches, but it was far from fatal. The next words that came from his mouth struck fear into my body, and made me question my previous response.  “But I can’t see,” he uttered.

I felt like my heart was in my throat.  Nick said, “Your t-shirt is blocking my eyes!” I had never been more relieved in my life.  Four words scared me half to death, and six more made me breathe the biggest sigh of relief on record.  We finally reached my parents, they were comforting but strict. We all headed to the nearest hospital, thirty-five minutes away.

Nicholas was still bleeding profusely as my mom was applying pressure to the wound.  Nick continued to cry, not only because of his gash, but because of the idea that stiches kept him in hysterics.  I made sure the GPS was taking us the right way by checking the road signs and map.  We parked at the ER at two-twenty five PM.  The waiting room was almost half full, as we signed in and tried to comfort Nick.

When we left at seven forty five PM, Nick had a patch of medical sealing glue and three bandages across the right side of his forehead, while my father held an important looking paper with a large number preceded by a dollar sign on it.  We left the hospital and Tennessee, sad we missed out on our last day of vacation, but happy that everyone was now well and safe



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