I Broke My Wrist during Choir Practice!

Yes, it sounds crazy. But this is what happened. I broke my wrist during choir practice. Not in gym class, or climbing trees, or pulling tricks in extreme sports, or defeating hordes of zombie vampire werewolves with my bare hands. It was in choir practice. Hence why our principal now boasts that his school hosts full-contact choir. And now, I shall proceed to explain how this became possible, as well as include as many life lessons as possible along the way.
A little over two years ago, I was in the school choir. And if you're wondering how I got into choir, this was back before anyone figured out that I cannot sing worth a wooden nickel. Plus, with a high school of just under thirty students, nearly everyone had to sing or else we'd be known as the Union Grove Quintet.
Life Lesson #1: If you seriously have no outstanding talent in something, but the group for it is desperate for people, it's at least great to sign up and make some friends...or enemies...or people that just stare at you and wonder...
Either way, whether I could sing or not, I was in the auditorium before most people got there for practice. Slightly bored, I spotted a loose triangular section of the stage near the piano, and decided to test my balance by standing on it and rocking back and forth. My balance was successfully tested. I wasn't quite at the "tightrope walker" level of balance; it was more like the "sumo wrestler on ice skates" level of balance. But hey, at least I knew that.
Results of balance test: one mighty fall backwards on top of my arm.
Life Lesson #2: No matter what Wii Fit tells you about your balance or BMI, it's just a game. Just like how most Call of Duty players probably couldn't actually get a kill streak of fourteen before dying.
Of course, I thought that the shooting pain in my wrist would subside. I mean, I'm a Zemke! My Dad and his family had grown up in rural areas forever, pulling all sorts of insane stunts and walking away with only a flesh wound. And my cousin's gone back through our family history, discovering great warriors and legendary heroes and even the German war god...okay, that last one's a bit questionable, but it's something worth saying. I mean, with a heritage like mine, a horrible pain in the wrist can't mean more than scratched skin, right? I decided to leave choir practice early and get it checked out. Hopefully, it was just a strain, and I would be back to normal soon.
Wrong. Something funny must have happened in my genes, and I didn't get the bones of iron. A few hours, a couple x-rays, and a lot of money later, the verdict was a cracked bone in the wrist. I left the hospital with a splint, and would be going back the next day to get a cast.

Doctor walks out; Mom immediately snaps a photo.  If this isn't in the family photos, chaos will reign.

Life Lesson #3: Heritage isn't always contagious. Just because James Potter was a wizard doesn't mean that Harry...wait a second...um...Just because Lily Potter was Harry's mom doesn't mean they have the same eyes. There.
It would be another six weeks before I could use my wrist again, so I had to eventually get used to the cast. I'll admit, it's a bit awkward to wear a chunk of plastic-y stuff on your arm, but fortunately it was my non-dominant arm. I could still write and do a lot of stuff normally. And granted, even though I had to duct tape a garbage bag around my arm every time I might get wet, I got out of a lot of snow shoveling.
Life Lesson #4: If you're going to undergo major physical injury, make sure it's before the biggest blizzard in decades comes rolling through your neighborhood.
There were times, however, where I got so used to wearing a cast that I completely forgot it was there. Such as one youth function I was attending. A game was being played where the objective was to get tennis balls into a garbage can the other team's goalie was guarding. "Hey, that looks fun. I'm not gonna let this cast stop me," I said as I volunteered for a spot.
Most of the game went well. With my cast, I wouldn't be able to hold many tennis balls, but I could be goalie. And I ended up being quite an excellent goalie. Not too many balls could get by me. I could slip in front of approaching people and club away the tennis balls they approached with.
However, my cast found a way of reminding me of its presence. There was the one kid who appeared on my peripheral, and I swung my arm in an attempt to get between him and the can. I was successful, but in the process ended up clocking him in the face with my cast.
Life Lesson #5: Be glad that Christian teenagers aren't prone to suing.
Probably the most interesting part about having a cast was that I was the school basketball team's manager. Every coach, or player, or fan that would see me sitting on the bench with my cast would drop a comment about it. Something to the effect of "Man, it must stink that you used to play, but you can't because your arm's broke, and now you can't do anything except sit there and watch you friends play."
To which I reply "I'm the manager."
To which they reply, "Oh."
Life Lesson #6: Never assume anything about anyone on the bench.
Life Lesson #7: It's this positive attitude while having a broken wrist that wins you the "Most Inspirational Player" award.

Me and Coach, the two guys who always had to explain how I wasn't an injured player.

Eventually, six weeks passed, and I could get that stinky piece of plastic-y stuff off my arm. It felt a bit weird, being able to move my wrist, but gradually the strength came back. I've also walked away from this with seven life lessons, so it was actually quite helpful to break my wrist. However, every choir practice since then, or every time I've been on that stage, my friends have made sure to keep me far away from that loose piece of stage. Granted, I'm glad they want to keep me safe, but it's not like I'm gonna try balancing on it again, right?
Hey, look! A teeter-totter! Let's stand in the middle of it!