When Grandma was Hurt

     I was almost two years old when my Grandma was in an accident where a car ran into the back of her buggy. 
    I don't remember the extent of all her injuries, but I do remember that she had both of her legs broken.
    I remember going to the hospital to see her. It was all so strange. I didn't like it at all. 
    Grandma was supposed to be in her house working in her warm kitchen, baking cookies and letting me lick the spoon, or peeling potatoes and giving me a slice sprinkled with salt to enjoy. I should be sitting on her sink watching her and Mom cook. Or maybe on the living room floor playing with the little castle with the sproing-y flags on top while she and Mom quilted and talked and laughed. That was how it was supposed to be when I saw Grandma. Everything all nice, and happy, and cozy. Not like this - lying in a narrow white bed in a bright white room.
    Dad was holding me in his arms and we went to the side of her bed, He set me next to her and she smiled and talked to me, and then folded back the white blanket to show me her legs. I was horrified. There was a metal contraption on her legs and screws turned into them. It hurt my legs just seeing it. She asked if I want to touch it, but I quickly hid my hands behind my back and said "No!"
    
    That was my first introduction to an injury. I was not impressed! To this day I still don't like seeing or hearing about injuries.