I still vividly remember the sound my body made at the moment of impact. I had the idea that the twelve inches of snow would allow me to land safely, but I was sorely mistaken. I can still recall my brother yelling off in the distance, just a few moments earlier, “Sara, JUMP!” I figured the snow would protect me, so why not? Apparently, plummeting a vertical distance of about seven feet into one foot of snow has some potential dangers. I can still hear each individual bone in my wrist snap as I smacked the earth below me. As strange as it may sound, the physical breaking of my wrist was not the most painful memory I have of this experience. Once I gathered up the strength to lift myself up off the ground, I immediately ran inside to inform my mother. This was when both the physical and emotional pain set in, because the adrenaline preventing me from feeling pain had began to wear off. I can still remember my mother attempting to convince me that all I needed to do was ice my hand, that ice had the ability to restore movement in my hand. After about twenty minutes of arguing with her over whether or not I needed ice or a hospital, she finally caved to my shrieks of pain, and took me to the hospital. Little did I know, I had just signed up for the longest drive of my life, with all the snow on the ground, the trip to the hospital seemed never ending. Going about fifteen miles per hour the entire ride over, what would usually take us ten minutes took triple that. After finally arriving at the emergency room, the doctors took me in for x-rays. The x-ray showed I had fractured my radius in two different spots, along with fracturing my ulna, and chipping the head of my ulna. I can also remember my mother laughing and sarcastically asking the doctor if this could be fixed with ice, “Too soon, mom.”