For most people, they can remember exactly where they were, what they were doing, who they were with when your world gets turned upside down. You could recall what day of the week it was, what you were wearing, and how the air felt that day. Well, if you asked me how my junior season of softball got cut short, I could lay out the entire scene for you.
On a cool Thursday night in April, I went up to the plate in a non-conference game against a local university. I was getting robbed all night, I was making good contact with the ball, but every time I put it in play, the defense got to it and stopped me from getting on base. With a 2-2 count, I took the next pitch deep. The ball was flying through the air to dead centerfield. The ball felt so clean coming off of the bat, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of it as I was running to first base. Once I turned my head to see where I was, I was not running in a straight line to the bag. With a swift attempt to correct myself, I heard a pop and a crack that still ring in my ears. My body went one direction while my knee went the opposite way. I fell to the ground with no control over anything that happened next. The field was quiet, with the only noise to be heard was the screams I didn’t even realize we’re coming from my mouth. My coach and trainer came to my side. The only words I could get out were, “I can’t feel my leg.”
After getting carted off the field and to the training room, I got handed a pair of crutches that I desperately didn’t want to use, but knew I needed. My trainer has to cut me out of my cleats and socks to get to my knee. At first glance it didn’t look too bad. There was some redness from the ice, but not much more besides some dirt and grass stains. I just assumed I hyperextended it and that I would be better in no time. My teammates carried me into my house, fed me dinner in bed, and helped me with the basics that I didn’t realize I wasn’t able to do, like put my laundry in the washer, go to the bathroom, and even get in my pajamas. The next day, my trainer took me to our school’s orthopedic surgeon to be evaluated. The wait in the waiting room seemed to take hours, but looking back on it now, they were moving around their schedule to get me in as quickly as they could. Once I got into the examination room and the doctor asked me to take the wrap off my knee, I realized that this was the first time I stepped back to compare my knees since the night before. When I showed him my knee, his mouth opened without him even realizing it. My kneecap had been absorbed by the swelling and bruising. He called the hospital, had them cancel some appointments, and sent me there right away for X-Rays and an MRI. At this point, I knew that good news was not headed my way.
After it was all said and done, I was diagnosed with a completely torn ACL, lateral meniscus, deep bone bruising in my tibia, fibula, patella, and a crack in the lateral portion of my femur. Going from running a few miles on a daily basis to having someone drive me to my classes was a major adjustment. Being reliant on those around me was something I wasn’t very used to. I had a designated row in the front of the bus for the remainder of the season so no equipment or bags would accidentally bump into me. I slept with pillows under my leg and on the ground, in case I rolled out of bed, for 3 months. The entire process of surgery and rehab was, and still is, the most difficult task I have been given. The physical strength will come back with time. As the days go on, my muscle will come back and my mobility will increase. The mental strength is what is lacking. It is so difficult to cope with the fact that still, four months after surgery, cannot do some of the simple tasks that I used to do so easily, like jumping out of bed or squatting down to pick something up off the floor.
Being not even halfway through my rehab, I have conquered some days that I didn’t think would be possible. With my last season of collegiate softball inching closer and closer, the angst to return is at an all-time high. Even though my physical strength is less than usual, I see a difference in myself, mentally, as an athlete. I look at the game with a different perspective and do not take a single minute of being apart of my team for granted. I look forward to every 7 am lift and 6 am practice. I don’t mind team bonding activities that take away from my studying or doubleheaders in below-freezing weather when I have to wear 2 pairs of pants. There is a silver lining with every dark cloud. Nothing that is painful will last forever, both physically and mentally. Just have to take things day by day and lean on those around you. Tearing my ACL has brought out the person I didn’t know I was. This season, I will leave it all out on the field, and that is something I can guarantee.