Adriana at Braums after cutting off the top of her finger.
Adriana Duerksen with the quilt that she made
By Adriana Duerksen
One day I was sewing in my grandma’s sewing shop working on a quilt that I was hoping to get hand quilted by my great-grandmother. When all of a sudden, out of nowhere, slice, owwwwwwww! I didn’t know what happened until I looked down, I had sliced the tip of one of my fingers nearly off!
My grandma rushed over and took me back to my house. When we got there my mom didn’t know how bad it was until she looked at it. My grandpa quickly drove us to the emergency room. By the time we got to the hospital I had almost passed out from losing so much blood. My dad was in the E.R. waiting for us to arrive. He met us outside and put me into a wheelchair.
During the procedure the doctor let me watch the T.V. that was in the corner of the room. I was really nervous when the doctors said that my finger tip was not showing any sign of life, but I knew they were doing their best. The doctor decided to cut the tip of my finger completely off. I was breathing so fast, so the doctors got me some bubbles to blow. When the procedure was done I sat in the bed for about 15 minutes, and then the doctors allowed me to leave.
On our way back we stopped at Braums and I got an XL chocolate shake. We were going to have grandma and grandpa over for dinner that night, so once we got back they came over to eat. The next night I had to do the first dressing change on my finger. I cried so much that it felt like I could have filled the ocean! I blew some more bubbles and then it was over.
I had to go through several dressing changes, it was hard. I had to go through dressing changes for about 3-4 months. After about 6 months I was finally ready to go back to working on my quilt. I was a little scared at first, but I finally got brave enough to start cutting with the rotary cutter again. The blade ran across the fabric, slowly and carefully I cut the material. I was so proud of myself for moving on with my quilt.
I was almost done with my quilt, but then my great-grandma passed away. I have really missed her at family gatherings. I have finished piecing it together, and all that’s left is the border and the back. I am now going to get it sewn by a machine that my grandma has. I’m glad that I trusted the doctors with what they did, even though it meant growing a new finger. In conclusion I would encourage everyone who reads this to be brave even in scary circumstances.
by: Taryn Lawler
Bravery is something that can’t be described by a simple definition. To some people, bravery means doing something that seems dangerous. To others, it means having the courage to quit something that isn’t right for them. I think that bravery can only be defined by yourself, and it can be as simple as reaching out to someone for help, or as complex as going to war for your country. There have been many times in my life where I’ve had to be brave, but I think that one situation stands out from all of the others.
At the beginning of my sophomore year, I dislocated my shoulder during softball practice. It happened again in January, and I eventually had to get shoulder surgery. This meant that I wouldn’t be able to play until the fall. After months of physical therapy, my doctor allowed me to start practicing with my team again in July. At my first practice back, I was fielding a ground ball when I broke my finger. I wasn’t too worried because I had already previously broken that same finger. It wasn’t healing and eventually, my mom made me go back to the doctor. I was told I needed a couple of pins put in my finger, requiring another surgery and even more therapy. Luckily, I had my parents and some wonderful nurses to keep me calm during the time leading up to both of my surgeries. They both went smoothly, and the recovery process was not an easy road. I truly think that the only way I got through those recoveries was because I chose to be brave and did what was best for myself.
I thought that the end of the road stopped there, but little did I know that God had much more in store for me. I’d been having hip issues for months and tried to ignore it all, but as the summer ended, the pain kept getting worse and I went back to the doctor. After talking to multiple hip specialists, we found one in Kansas City that seemed like the best option for surgery. I specifically remember talking to the nurse about my previous surgeries as she was wheeling me back to the operating room. She told me that she had never heard of a child going through that many troubles in such a short amount of time. I also remember her telling me how brave I was and how amazed she was that I didn’t look even slightly worried. At this point, I had plenty of experience being in hospitals and rooms full of doctors, so I didn’t think much about it.
It wasn’t until I was completely done with physical therapy that I realized it truly did take bravery to get through the struggles I faced. Without the support and prayers I had, I definitely would not have been able to get through those situations so well. I wasn’t the only one that showed bravery in those circumstances though. I constantly had help and support from my family, which made my recovery process so much more bearable. Each person in my family sacrificed their time and energy to help me get better. Now, not only am I healed physically, but I’ve also healed mentally. My mental toughness is now something that I’m proud of because of all the bad things I had to go through. Bravery has been a huge part of that process, and without it, I wouldn’t be the person I am today.
Quarantine Day 32
By: Zaylah Wray
My siblings and I were playing with our goats. A long rope was tied around the goats’ necks to lead them around, but they weren’t into it so they just flopped down on their knees. Ugh!
Suddenly I had a great idea! (Only time would tell if this was a good idea or not). Well, we had some steers on the other side of our pasture. What if we could lead THEM around?
On our first attempt the steer ran away bucking. On our second attempt we didn’t even get close to the steer. On about our 43rd attempt we finally got the rope over his head.
The second the rope touched his neck he bucked and ran. I quickly let go of the other end of the rope! (Boy was that a mistake). Frozen in place, I watched the steer step on the rope every time he bucked. The rope began to tighten! I have to get the rope off his neck, I thought.
Cautiously, I walked up to the steer. He bolted away. Then my brother Langston became brave. He snagged the rope! But then he shook it. The steer was spooked! This just got worse, I thought.
My mom saw and yelled, “Get some grain!”
Langston sprinted to the barn to grab some grain. The steer stuck his nose into the grain.
I tried to pull the rope off his head, but no luck.
After a while he came back to his grain. I slowly and steadily crept up to him and slipped the rope over and off his head.
Finally! As I walked to the barn to hang up the jump rope, I laughed to myself and said, “I should go into steer roping business.”
Even though that was a disaster I was proud of myself for handling a sticky situation.