Injuries Suck

When I was little, a common icebreaker we did was sharing our biggest pet peeve was. I’d say basic things like noisy rooms or the sounds of nails on a chalkboard. I forgot the most annoying one: injuries. Injuries are the biggest physical hindrance. You’re in pain, bound in contraptions that make you look like a (sorry) bonehead, and you can’t do anything but wait.

I work at 100% in the things I enjoy. I had it coming when my knee decided to hurt after diving in volleyball like a maniac (my personal job as a libero). While I’m at home with an ice pack strapped weirdly to my knee, I groan at the thought of missing a game I have the next day. Injuries suck. I have to break commitments, disappoint teammates, worry my mother, and send emails about how I can’t use stairs without looking like a mad bunny. I sat through my classes dreading how to send the message to my team that “I couldn’t make it.”

I contemplated on whether I could hustle through the pain and just play, only to realize, through the help of my mother, I’d only make things worse. Not to mention a possible visit to the doctor with a BS co-pay. Despite the downtime, I got lucky. If I found myself in the same situation my brother was in years ago, I wouldn’t know what to do.

During the winter of 2011 and my brother Bill’s senior year, he broke his ankle during a hockey game. I still distinctly remember carrying a recently purchased box of popcorn back to my seat in the ice-arena when I heard a boom. An opponent had slammed my brother into the wall. I shrugged at the situation. I believed Bill was a tough nut to crack, only to see his ankle give out from under him during his feeble attempt to stand up.

Even the toughest people have a breaking point.

I was a terrible ten-year-old sister. I was furious when my parents told me we had to cancel our trip to Florida, a trip I had been waiting for all year. I whined about it for hours. Bill’s injury caused my loss of a two-week trip to paradise. Over the course of the week, I finally learned to accept the inevitable cancellation of the trip and the cold weather of Champaign. Nevertheless, Bill took advantage of the situation through me. I ran his small errands like fetching his water, backpack, extra pillows from his room upstairs, etc. I didn’t mind it. I felt that was my chance to give back for all the things he did for me. I watched Bill lay on the first floor of our house in pain, struggle through his college applications, and feel bummed for missing countless events. Bill had to miss our Florida trip too. Bill lost all the fun in the first half of his senior year of high school. I felt bad for him. I couldn’t truly relate until now.

So, while I hastily google “how to treat a bum knee” five times a day on my phone, I’m taking it slow and easy. I hate words of pity, but I’ll gladly jump on an elevator ride to the third floor. I want to get back to my team, to my life of walking normally. I’ve already gotten through the day of explaining “what (I think) happened.” I’m now focused on making the quickest recovery possible. Because injuries suck, they’re my biggest pet peeve.