Got run over by a truck and lived to tell about it.
By J.C.M an eight-year-old boy.
Love your family.
I am an eight-year-old boy. I live in rural Kentucky. I like to think of myself as a very smart and interested child. I love animals and I love insects. I love reading and using my computer. I like my RPG games most. I take my time and look over everything before I jump in. That’s why its hard to believe my story.
It was a sunny, late summer day. Its was around noon cause I just had lunch. Chicken nuggets they are may favorite. I was ready, going on a camping trip with my aunt and uncle sounded wonderful. Looking very forward to this trip, I gather my things and wait patiently by the door for my uncle to pick me up. What seemed like hours was only minutes. He pulled in the driveway “hurry, mom he’s here” I shouted. I grabbed my back pack and ran out the door in a flash. Jumped into the truck forgetting to even say “see you all later, I love you, good bye”.
We drove ever so slow to their house. We needed to get all the things together so we could go on this trip. I was the only child going so I had to be big and help. I got all the food and cooking stuff loaded in the camper. It was all loaded up. It was time to hook up the camper trailer. My uncle went to the garage and was going to back the truck to the trailer. I was going to help.
Now being interested in insects and other critters I noticed a large grasshopper. With out a single thought I ran after it to catch it. Just like that my day changed. I found myself laying face first on the gravel. Something very heavy was going up my back from my rear end. “Stop” I shouted. “Stop Craig Stop”. He did stop just below my neck. “What" he said, and got out of the truck. He came around to the passenger side. Only to find me, under the front tire. I could not breath and was very scared, not knowing what was happening. My uncle ran as fast as he could to get back in the truck. He drove off me. “Justin, Justin are you alright?” he said. “I don’t know” I replied. “Don’t move stay still” he shouted to me. I rolled over on to my back. I could breath again.
My aunt came running over. “Am I going to die?” I asked. “No” she said. The rest is sort of a blur. I ended up with a lot of faces looking down at me. This was all very scary.
I have always wanted to fly in a helicopter Just not in this way.
I heard my mom and dads voices. Thank God they made it. Dad flew with me in the helicopter although I could not see him. I was in back and dad had to ride up front. We arrived at the hospital in what seemed like seconds. Time was going very quickly now. The next thing I knew is people were poking at me and asking lots of questions. Where does it hurt, what is your name, how old are you, what day is it. Why all the questions, just fix the pain. “ouch ouch that hurts don’t do that” I just wanted it to be over.
After all the poking and the pictures of my bones and of my head. Things got quiet. I heard moms voice. She had made it to the hospital. I now felt safe. Dad was here the whole time but there is nothing in the whole world like my mom. I love my mom and dad they always make things better.
I don’t know all the technical mumbo-jumbo, but it turns out I’m in pretty good shape. No broken bones and no head problems. I do have a cut to my liver. The doctor says “that’s going to heal itself”. But it all hurts a lot. “You are going to stay in the hospital for about a week”. The doctor told us. “We need to keep an eye on you.”
They tell me my face is red, and so are the whites of my eyes. I don’t want to look. Its better that way. I am told that I am red because the pressure from the truck caused my blood to go to my head. I guess it had to go some place.
Jumping to the future it's three months later and I feel great. Back to school and back to my computer and critter friends. So I sit and write about my life. Sometimes I think if I write a little it will all get a little easier. So I write this in hopes that someone will read it. Then they too will know my story.
Take a second and look around, listen to the world and pay attention. Love everything you can. Because you just never know when you won’t be able to anymore.
These are the thoughts of an eight-year-old boy. To all who will read this thank you.
Send me a message. Tell me your thoughts. E-mail. firstname.lastname@example.orgThis is me a few days bofore the truck...