Jody Kremer
Determination
Starchy, pale sheets covered the meager mattress I lied upon. I was foggy minded; my world was blurred and confusing. Unfortunately, that phase only lasted for a few seconds. Realization struck me abruptly as I looked to my right - I saw bags of clear liquid with tubes that led into my right hand through an IV. Other machines were scattered around me, beeping and recording my every breath. Before I could even speak, a nurse bustled over from the corner of the room, slapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm and shoving a thermometer under my tongue.
My parents materialized moments later, apologizing for the delay. They proceeded to describe their scour of the city, searching for the perfect bouquet. The superb bundle of daisies they presented were dyed lavender and were adorned with gleaming sparkles. After grasping the situation, I attempted to sit up a bit more. This task turned to out to be unanticipatedly difficult. My left leg was the instigator, feeling five times its average heaviness. My bloated knee throbbed intensely; the skin was stretched tight underneath the gauze and bandages. A bulky, black brace extended from my mid-thigh to ankle, locking my knee straight. My thoughts assembled themselves as I recalled how this came to be.
***
I raced down the court,
dribbling the basketball in our three-on-three scrimmage drill, being closely
trailed. My pursuer was attempting to tip the ball out of my control,
before I could go in for a left handed lay-up. Impulsively, I jumped to a
hasty stop to avoid losing the ball. My feet slammed into the
glossy, wooden floor, just outside the three point line, sending a wave of
impact up my shins. I struggled to keep my feet planted, my body still
moving a million miles per hour. In an instant, my landing was no longer
my most prominent dilemma. As soon as my heels hit the ground, I felt the
disgusting popping of my patella shifting from the middle of my left
knee, to the inner side of my knee. This wasn’t your average
cracking your knuckles gross, this was chills up your spine, downright
repulsive. The deafening crack could be heard across the court. As
quickly as it had dislocated, it returned to its rightful position, forcing me
to endure the agonizing torture once more.
Unable to bear my weight, my knee buckled, sending me to the unforgiving, yellow floor. Immediately, I curled up like a frightened animal, cradling my left knee. I didn’t even have the option of crying or not, the pain was so unbearable the tears came involuntarily. I remained on the court, clenching my teeth, sobbing, and praying the pain would subside.
It didn’t.
One, two, three bounces of an abandoned basketball thumping against the wooden floor, the seconds between each bounce getting less and less. Its energy dwindled to a constant drumming against the ground, much like my heartbeat, until it simply rolled. Did anyone even notice I was sobbing? Obviously not, due to the fact that my teammates, scattered around the court, were cackling, thinking I had merely tripped and fallen, as I often did. Coach was even under this impression, as she comically cawed, “Jody, ya look like you’re giving birth!” Usually, after a hearty face-plant I would have sprung up and joined their chorus of snickering. I didn’t. I couldn’t. That’s when they realized something was immensely wrong.
The hour and a half I rested against the wall on the sideline seemed like an eternity, stretching on endlessly. Chills quivered up and down my spine from the ice pack I held against my swollen knee. My knee was stiff and excruciating to move, yet I tried, convincing myself that I was just exaggerating the pain. After practice concluded, I attempted to walk. Hesitantly, I set my left leg on the ground, only to be taken aback by the incredible amount of pain from the slightest pressure. My friends readily assisted me, after warily watching my unsteady step. I had no idea how much more I would have to go through before my leg would be the same as it had been before.
Unable to bear my weight, my knee buckled, sending me to the unforgiving, yellow floor. Immediately, I curled up like a frightened animal, cradling my left knee. I didn’t even have the option of crying or not, the pain was so unbearable the tears came involuntarily. I remained on the court, clenching my teeth, sobbing, and praying the pain would subside.
It didn’t.
One, two, three bounces of an abandoned basketball thumping against the wooden floor, the seconds between each bounce getting less and less. Its energy dwindled to a constant drumming against the ground, much like my heartbeat, until it simply rolled. Did anyone even notice I was sobbing? Obviously not, due to the fact that my teammates, scattered around the court, were cackling, thinking I had merely tripped and fallen, as I often did. Coach was even under this impression, as she comically cawed, “Jody, ya look like you’re giving birth!” Usually, after a hearty face-plant I would have sprung up and joined their chorus of snickering. I didn’t. I couldn’t. That’s when they realized something was immensely wrong.
The hour and a half I rested against the wall on the sideline seemed like an eternity, stretching on endlessly. Chills quivered up and down my spine from the ice pack I held against my swollen knee. My knee was stiff and excruciating to move, yet I tried, convincing myself that I was just exaggerating the pain. After practice concluded, I attempted to walk. Hesitantly, I set my left leg on the ground, only to be taken aback by the incredible amount of pain from the slightest pressure. My friends readily assisted me, after warily watching my unsteady step. I had no idea how much more I would have to go through before my leg would be the same as it had been before.
***
Encouragement flooded my
body with the reassuring warmth of the doctor’s words, “It just looks like
a strain, it should be better in 3-5 days.” I ditched my temporary
crutches without a second thought and hobbled out of the doctor’s office with a
smile on my face and hope in my heart.
It’s a shame both my hope and my smile receded as the week stretched on and the full recovery that had been promised was nowhere to be found. Apprehension arose as my walking capabilities were still limited by the time I should have been recovered.
Trekking again toNorth Ottawa Community Hospital
It’s a shame both my hope and my smile receded as the week stretched on and the full recovery that had been promised was nowhere to be found. Apprehension arose as my walking capabilities were still limited by the time I should have been recovered.
Trekking again to
***
Perched upon the crunchy,
thin paper of the patient’s seat in the examining room, I eagerly awaited to
discover my fate. Dr. Bakker swept into the room and greeted us. As
soon as he said the words, “You have, unfortunately, torn your ACL,” I froze.
I wanted to corral the words and shove them right back in his mouth.
I wanted him to say he was just kidding or never mind, he had the wrong
file. But he didn't. He just kept saying that if I ever wanted to
play sports again, I had to have surgery, which was a six month recovery.
Hot tears brimmed my eyes, a few escaping and dribbling down my cheeks.
I was devastated at the thought of all my plans I could no longer
execute. My heart had not only sunk, it had been pulverized as well.
***
I felt like I was
committing suicide. I strolled effortlessly through the rotating doors of
North Ottawa Community Hospital
After an hour and a half of arts and crafts with my knee, Dr. Bakker had successfully snipped a segment of my patellar tendon and turned it into a brand new ACL, using screws and bone plugs as a substitute for glue.
However, I was not done. I was nowhere near done. I had more challenges to undertake than ever before. I had more forces tethering me back then helping me forward. The second I opened my eyes, I was uncertain of countless things. But there was one thing I was certain of, that I would regain my strength. I would work harder than I had before. I would be more grateful than I was before. I would be better than I was before. And only one thing was necessary to achieve these goals.
Determination.
After an hour and a half of arts and crafts with my knee, Dr. Bakker had successfully snipped a segment of my patellar tendon and turned it into a brand new ACL, using screws and bone plugs as a substitute for glue.
However, I was not done. I was nowhere near done. I had more challenges to undertake than ever before. I had more forces tethering me back then helping me forward. The second I opened my eyes, I was uncertain of countless things. But there was one thing I was certain of, that I would regain my strength. I would work harder than I had before. I would be more grateful than I was before. I would be better than I was before. And only one thing was necessary to achieve these goals.
Determination.
