Happy quatorze juillet to my French friends.
Me, age 16, on my way to Lycée Janson de Sailly to meet up with my classmates to go to the Bastille Day parade. Coming out of the Metro train, I break my wrist thanks to a cute, curly-haired boy.....but that's another story. I heard a crack! But I didn't think it was broken, and continued on my merry way. By the time I got to the lycée, I was in agony. I phoned my mother, who was in the suburbs, and told her what had happened. She said it sounded like I'd broken my wrist and told me to get someone at the school to take me to the hospital right away.
Half and hour later, we were at the Marmottan Hospital, where X-rays showed I had a smashed scafoid and I was given a plaster cast and pain pills.
Arm in a sling, we continued on to the Champs Elysées to watch the parade.