It was bound to happen.
Every week I take to the Ultimate field with players who sport some sort of bionic body part: a knee, an ankle, a shoulder...and I feel smug that I have all my original parts, intact.
Yesterday, during the opening play of the game, I lost that smugness to a sprained ankle.
I'm not injured often, and in the past (when I was young and foolish) I would most often play through, hating being benched more than anything. That was not an option, in this case.
The most shocking thing about the whole experience was the noise my ankle made as I landed on it. The combination of hearing and feeling it happen was enough to make me want to throw-up, as the other players crowded around me to administer First Aid. As grateful as I am to everyone for their care and compassion, I found out first-hand why crowd control is so important at the scene of an incident. It was not only embarrassing but also totally overwhelming to have that many people in my face, as I was writhing and flailing around in pain. Eventually I was carried off the field and given ice, medical advice, and soft caramels. There was talk of physio and rehab, and that I was not to, under any circumstances, allow a doctor in Port-au-Prince to cast it.
The layman's prognosis: 2 months of R(est)&R(ehabilitation) till it's back up to working condition. I've got roughly half of that till I'm due to be snowboarding in Whistler. It was only once that realization set in that I started to cry. I'm choosing to think of that as worst case scenario. The power of positive thinking and all that...
So here I am this morning, icing, elevating, and creating my semester exams. I've stockpiled everything I need (starting with breakfast) so I don't have to hop back and forth a hundred times.
Wish me luck in both my recovery and work!
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