I don’t remember anything particular about the drive home except for the fact that I was extremely uncomfortable. I had never felt anything like what I felt then. My leg was unmovable, and it was confusing my brain.

The next day my foot was a little swollen, and I was still in my scratchy hospital gown. For that entire day I was confined to my bed. I did nothing but eat, take a couple naps, and color a couple pictures with my new crayon set.

  The next few days continued in the same manner: eat, sleep, color, talk with my parents and occasional visitors, then sleep again.

  This continued, and in my four-year-old mind I was getting kind of bored already, and it had barely been a week!

I don’t want to skip through the next few weeks, but if I’m being completely honest, nothing interesting really happened, but I was able to move around a little bit once I had gotten my wheelchair.

Then came the day that I will never forget. eight weeks after breaking my leg, my parents took me to the doctor to get my cast removed, for good. The doctors and nurses took me to a room with blue walls and white baseboards. Off in the distance I could hear the saws or whatever they use to cut off the cast running in other rooms. Then they came in my room, saws in hand.

  As soon as the running blade touched the blue gauze, it immediately tore apart, revealing the white foamy “stuffing” that the gauze was wrapped around.  Excitement rushed through my body as the entire cast was removed. My leg was free!

Although the cast was gone, I still was unable to walk, due to the fact that I hadn’t put weight on my foot for an extremely long time. In fact, I wasn’t even able to sit up! I had spent the entire 8 weeks laying down or sitting in a wheelchair, and it had taken quite the toll.

Slowly my recovery after my recovery began. I had to relearn everything. (And when I say everything, I’m serious: sitting up, crawling, standing, rolling, walking, and running.)

  What I find kind of interesting and coincidental is that me and my brother were learning to crawl and walk at the exact same time!

I still had to use my wheelchair to get around, but I was getting stronger and stronger each day. It took about a week to get to the point where I was able to sit up and crawl and roll over and all of those basics. Then came the point where I was learning how to walk. Every day I practiced.

Even when I went to my grandma’s house, she would help me get out of my wheelchair and assist me in a few painful steps before she would lead me back to it. With every step that I took, it would be less painful and less tiring.

The day that I could walk on my own was one of the happiest days of my life. I had fought a battle, and I had won. And I learned a lesson in the process: Just don’t run in the house. Trust me, it’s not worth it.

  If you’re wondering about the cover picture, this was one of the first times I was able to stand up on my own after the accident.

  This concludes the Broken Faith series. I hope you liked it!