The Cliff and the Dominant Hand

There was a large public housing complex in my hometown. Adjacent to the edge of the complex were a community center and a parking lot. The complex was on a hill, and the side facing the parking lot was a bare cliff. I believe the cliff was several meters high with a slope of about sixty degrees. Above the cliff was a gentle slope covered in thick trees. It seemed they had carved out part of the hill to build the parking lot.

I climbed this cliff once with Fukuda. I think we were on our way back from playing somewhere, but I can no longer recall exactly why we started climbing such a place. I was in the fourth grade at the time, and I think it was a period when I had started doing things that had previously been forbidden because they were dangerous. Fukuda was quite the mischievous boy among my friends, so his influence likely played a part.
Fukuda started climbing first, and I followed him. At first, it was easy, but when I reached about the middle, I suddenly lost my balance. I felt as if I were being pulled backward, and the moment I thought, "Oh," I actually fell backward and slid all the way to the bottom.
I didn't know what had happened, but I certainly must have slid down headfirst. It would have been serious if I had landed on my head. In fact, I hadn't hit it, so my head was fine. I just kept rolling around, thinking it was serious and crying, "It hurts, it hurts."
I don't know where it hurt. I even think it might not have hurt at all.
"Are you okay!"
Fukuda slid down.
I kept rolling around saying, "It hurts, it hurts," but I soon realized it didn't particularly hurt and stood up smoothly. So, I think it probably didn't hurt from the beginning. However, I felt a strange sensation in my left hand.
"Does your hand hurt?"
"I don't know."
"Wrist exercises, one, two, three, four," Fukuda said, rotating his wrist to show me. When I tried to do it with him, I couldn't perform the backward bending motion.
"It won't move."
"Seriously?"
"Did it break?"
"If it broke, it would hurt a lot."
A little while before, Fukuda had broken his leg and was hospitalized.
"Then, it probably isn't broken."
"Well, shall we go home?"
"Yeah."

When I went to the surgeon the next day, it was indeed broken.
"You must have put your hand out like this when you fell, right?" the doctor said, but I don't remember how I landed. I don't even know if I put my hand out.
When I said, "I don't remember," the doctor nodded deeply.
I was immediately wrapped in a cast from my elbow down and went home.
Since I am naturally left-handed, it was difficult for a while. Eating was fine with a fork and spoon, but I struggled to take notes at school. By the time I had gradually gotten used to writing with my right hand, the cast was removed, so I started using my left hand again.
And so, I remained left-handed until I became an adult.