The Well-Behaved Child Doesn’t Fall Far From The Tree

My grandmother (and my mother) are both extremely strict about not being interrupted while on the phone.

One year while visiting my grandmother, I decide to climb a large tree in her yard. I don’t know how high it is, but I am almost to the top. Now, being eleven, I naturally climb onto a dead branch, and it snaps.

I fall, plummeting to the ground. As soon as I realize I’m alive, I notice that I can’t quite move my left arm.

Me: *To my brother* “Go inside and tell Grandmother!”

My brother is on the autism spectrum and is a couple of years younger than me. He goes into the house, sits down, and waits. I’m sure it’s only a few minutes, but for me, it seems like an eternity.

Finally, my grandmother hangs up the phone.

Grandmother: “What’s the matter?”

Brother: “[My Name] fell out of a tree.”

At the hospital, a nurse asks me about the details. I tell them I lay there on the ground for a while after I fell.

Nurse: “Why?”

Brother: “I had to wait until Grandmother got off the phone to tell her about it.”

My grandmother had to explain to them what was going on. I do remember a social worker ushering them out of the room and asking some questions. After that, both Grandmother and Mother explained to us that if it’s an emergency, we need to tell them right away.