The 1980s in Wolfsburg. A hot summer day. Shortly before I started school. A visit to the popular Freibad-West (sadly no longer exists). Taking a break from swimming and splashing around. A seesaw in the playground, rocking one-handed with my kindergarten friend, an ice cream in the other. Not a good plan. Then a wasp came. A shock. And I fell off the seesaw and landed awkwardly on my arm. My arm was badly twisted in the elbow area. A shocked mother. A crowd. An ambulance. Wolfsburg Hospital. I woke up alone in the recovery room with my arm completely in a cast. The time in the hospital made me very sad, as I couldn't paint anymore without being able to write with my right arm. It was stupid with my left arm; the crayons broke. I cried in the playroom; the nurse was very rude. However, there were two slightly older boys in my room and the room next door who took me under their wing. They comforted me when my parents weren't there, played with me, read to me from Spiderman comics, and looked at my beloved Pixi comics with me, which my father brought me in a shoebox. The time in the hospital bonded us children. It was only a temporary friendship, but the two nails that had to spend some time in my bones to heal remind me of that time.
