It was a beautiful Saturday. The afternoon sky was cocktail-blue and the grass was downy soft. A stew of smells filled the air. I was outside, playing soccer. A very important championship was to come so I was training hard to make a good impression and help my team win the trophy.
Suddenly, while I was practicing shooting, I heard a crack from my knee. I did not give that too much attention, but as I continued, I started to feel some pain. What if it is an injury? I was really scared, because there was a big chance that I won't wouldn't be able to play in the next week's tournament. I went to my mom, to ask her to go see a doctor. My mom got even more concerned than me, because she knew how much this tournament meant to me, so she took me to the hospital.
We arrived at the hospital. My gaze swivelled over the waiting room, looking for a place for mom and I to sit. A TV was playing quietly in one corner. The doctor called us in his consultation room and he looked over my leg. He used his hammer to test my reflexes. After a few minutes, he said that my leg was OK, but because of my request, he made me a radiography. The doctor did not consider it necessary and said that I was doing too much Ado about nothing fuss. At the end of the day, the radiography confirmed what the doctor had said. My knee was perfectly fine. He told me to rest for a few days, but that it shouldn't be a problem to play in the championship that was taking place next week. I was relieved.
That day I promised myself not to worry so much again.

Last edited by Churchill (2019-12-13 08:42:32)