In the last few weeks, I’ve discovered that there is one, simple, never-fail way to get people to hold your books, pick up the pencil you’ve dropped or make your tea, just right, with two sugars.
Buy some crutches.
This tactic has worked extremely well for me. My $30 bible-verse covered crutches have bought me countless favors in the last week — everything from held doors to offers of baked goods from my friends.
That all probably sounds pretty nice to anyone reading this. A three-week break from activity. Sympathy and favors from random passersby. A couple days off school for outpatient surgery.
I hate it.
On the day of my last basketball game, I went for a run and felt something throbbing in my ankle. Upon discovering a marble-sized lump in my ankle, my parents rushed me to the doctor and a wave of check-ups, x-rays and MRI’s.
It wasn’t, as I had worried, a break, fracture, torn tendon, tumor, contusion or blood clot. It was a cyst, a growth with a gross name that I’ve had to repeat far too many times in the last two weeks.
I told myself that the three weeks of crutching, resting and recovering from surgery wouldn’t be that bad. I was most definitely lying through my teeth, because at the end of the first two weeks my armpits feel like they’re going to fall off and I’m so stir-crazy that my mom is letting me work out on a stationary bike to burn off energy.
My biggest problem is my aversion to help. I don’t like having to ask for favors or having random kids hold doors for me in the hall. In my mind, I’m an almost-adult that can take care of myself. I shouldn’t need to have other people take care of me.
But as much as I might complain about the soreness and the annoyance, it really could be worse. I saw two of my teammates this year sit on the bench for every game, incapacitated with injuries and unable to play a single game. I didn’t miss a day of practice or a game.
It’s weird, but I seem to go through this thought process every time I’m injured.
This won’t be too bad. I’m fine. Okay, this sucks. A lot. Well, not that much. Actually, I’m pretty dang lucky.
Although this last week has been a struggle, I’m finally coming to the last stage of this process. And I have to say, I’m feeling pretty lucky. I guess it’s just a good time to remember that, no matter what bad things happen to me, it could always be worse.
Leave a Reply