My rough denim work shirt worked against me as I reached up and tried to grab the box of nails.
“Come on,” I grimaced as I tried to grab the box. All I had to do was put it in the bulk bins then I could go, I had practice in 30 minutes. It was going to be close. Finally, I got it. Suddenly I realised I had underestimated its weight and the step ladder pitch forward. Dropping the box, I hit the hard cement floor of the hardware store. Pain rushed through my chest. Lying face down I tried to force air into my lungs.
“Ava? Ava?” I heard my name being called as I gave in to the black oblivion that was pulling all sides of my mind.



My shirt’s way too tight. I don’t sleep on my back, why am I sitting up? These are not my blankets. Fear raced through me as I forced my eyes open and bolted up. A hospital room? Ow! Pain shocked me as it drove through my ribs and chest. Falling back against the upright bed I was breathing hard.
“Ava?” My mom was sitting beside my bed. “Ava!” Suddenly her arms where around me and my father rushed into the room.
“Ava!” dad rushed over and hugged me from the other side of the bed.

“Um, mom, dad? What happened?” Slowly they pulled back from me. My mom had tears running down her face but she was smiling.
“Oh, baby, I love you,” she whispered strangely softly. “Hun, you fell at work.” Suddenly I remembered, the step ladder, the box, practice.
“What day is it?” My heart racing, I almost yelled.
“Sorry, Ava it’s Tuesday.” My dad said from the corner of my bed. Tuesday. I was at work on Thursday. My game was on Saturday. I missed it.
“My game… I missed it… did we win?” I leant my head back as I processed everything that was happening. My chest was still aching from my rough awakening.
“You’re team did win baby, but” My dad’s voice faded off. We won, going to provincials! I opened my eyes to look at my dad and coach. “Ava, you won’t be able to play anymore.”
“What? Why?” I looked frantically at my mom. “Why not?” What’s wrong with me?” My mom reached towards me and pulled my arm out from under the covers where it had been lying across my abdomen. It was covered with a dark purple cast. No. tears rushed to my eyes as I realised what this meant. 6 weeks with a cast, no hockey for 6 weeks, provincials in 3. I wouldn’t even get to play anymore this season. Breathing deeply I tried to control myself. It hurt. My chest.
“Ow! It hurts! Mom!” I yelled as unbearable pain stabbed through me as I tried to catch my breath, but I couldn’t.
“Help!” My dad voice yelled out to the hallway. “She can’t breathe!” Suddenly a flood of nurses came into the room. My vision was going black. My body was so heavy. The blankets were ripped off me and I saw my mom and dad get rushed out. Hands where over my chest, pulling my shirt up, on my stomach, pressure.
“The patch ruptured!” And then everything went black.


Something was on my face; cold air went in and out of my lungs. I could breath. I was so tired. My body was so heavy, so weak.
“She’s awake. Try to get her to open her eyes.” A low voice I didn’t recognize rumbled through the room.
“Ava, baby?” My mom.
“Ava, please open your eyes. Ava?” My dad. Hands grabbed mine, my dad’s. Something rubbed my leg, my mom. Struggling with my bleary mind and weak body I tried to open my eyes. Slowly they opened. My parents were sitting beside each other beside me. I was in another hospital room. My body was so heavy; I couldn’t keep my eyes open. They were so heavy.
“No Ava.” The man’s voice came again. “Ava, I need you to stay awake.” So tired. My mom’s hand came to rest on my face.
“Look at me baby girl. Please?” She sounded so sad. My mind bounced in and out of consciousness, in and out of wakefulness. My parents tried, I tried.
“Ava, please?” My dad was pleading. He never sounds like that.
“Ava, I’m going to put a cold cloth on your face.” The man’s voice. Who was it?
“Ava?” My dad. He’s so sad. Suddenly my face froze, cold liquid washed over my forehead. So cold. I gasped. My mind suddenly became clear and sharp. All of the confusion and warmth left. I struggled against it.
“What’s wrong?” My mom sounded scared.
“Nothing. Just give her a second to adjust. That would have given her a jolt. A good jolt.” The man again. A second later I beat my body and opened my eyes. There sat my parents.
“Hi baby,” my mom whispered as she took my hand. “Hi.”
“Ava? Ava, I’m Dr. Audrey.” Slowly I moved my way to heavy head to follow the voice. A tall man stood on the other side of me, across from my parents. “Hi, Ava.” He said as he reached towards my face and took off the cold cloth. “Do you think you can talk?” he removed the thing from my face. An oxygen mask. Warm air rushed into my lungs, it was harsh. Not enough oxygen. I started coughing. Both my parents lurched towards me.
“Relax.” I said quietly, weakly. They both sighed relief. “hi.” I said to Dr Audrey.
“Hi Ava.” He smiled, relief visibly seen on his face. “Do you think you could answer some questions?” My body was so heavy and the air was so thick, it felt gross. I just kept looking at him. I was so tired. “What’s your moms name Ava?”
“Amy” I said mid cough.
“And your dads name?”
“Bill” this time I didn’t cough.
“Does the air feel thick right now?”
“Yes,” I said slowly, it felt tight to talk. To tight, to small. Dr Audrey came over to me and listened to my heart. I coughed for him, he looked in my mouth, my eyes.
“She’ll be fine.” He talked to my parents in the corner. I closed my eyes. The air still felt hot but it wasn’t so thick. Heat behind my eyes combined with how heavy my body felt made me give in to unconsciousness.