Oops, I Did It Again
It was the summer before Kindergarten. I was swimming in the kiddie pool at my neighbor Donna’s house. We were running around her backyard, and as I neared the wet grass by the pool, I slipped and fell.
I can still feel the burning pain. Her mom picked me up and dunked me in the cool water repeatedly. Then she carried me home on the path that cut across the field that connected our houses on opposite sides of the block.
I begged Mom and Dad not to take me to the hospital.
The next morning, I remember Mom coming into my room to know what I wanted to wear. Since this wasn’t the way things went in the summer, I asked what was up and was informed that we were going to the hospital. You see, I couldn’t move out of bed, much less walk.
I wasn’t given crutches for weeks. I think I finally got them just in time to start school. But I do remember sitting long hours in the garage on the beach chaise lounge with friends playing on the wood floor of Dad’s ice shanty project. I remember the friends leaving and me yelling and yelling for someone. No one came to get me for what seemed like forever. Just the mosquitos and moths zipping around the garage lights kept me company as I impatiently waited to be carried into the house.
Kindergarten started with circle time in Mrs Hawley’s class. I was assigned a “chair person” to help me. I can still see the big white calendar that the teacher marked a left diagonal slash for the morning class and a right diagonal slash over each past day. All the students sitting in a wide semi-circle criss-cross-applesauce and I like a princess, sitting on my chair in the center.
Mom says that once my leg healed, I disliked the idea of doing things for myself again. It seems I enjoyed being treated “special” and having a personal helper.
And I got another opportunity to try out crutches when I was a Freshman…
During 8th Grade, I was on the volleyball team. Part of our conditioning was to run circuits up and down and through the hallways and stairways of the three-story Middle School. The coaches noticed that I had stamina and enjoyed this workout. They encouraged me to try out for the Cross Country team in the fall.
This idea sounded interesting. I have always wanted to be “athletic” and running was something that I could do without a team.
So in the summer, I started slow. Mom would ride her bike next to me as I ran in the evening. (I won’t go into how I would often lose her because she would ride extra slow past favorite houses to check out the interior decorating now visible through the brightening windows…)
When the school year began, I could run a couple of miles without walking. I wasn’t fast, but that didn’t seem so important.
Then during the week before our first meet, the coach announced that there was one open spot on the girl’s varsity team–available to anyone who wanted to run the 8 laps around the track to prove their speed.
I don’t remember how many of us there were, I just remember that as I came around the final bend, Melissa was just ahead of me. If I passed her, I would be on Varsity!
I had some extra energy and as I was passing her, I felt a catch in my leg. I stumbled to a halt and stood with my hands on my knees. Melissa crossed the line before me. I didn’t understand what happened. It looked like I had given up just before the end. My leg felt “tight” and I limped off the track and to the locker room. When I got home, I put ice on my knee…where I assumed the problem was located.
The next morning, I couldn’t walk. Mom took me to the hospital and nothing showed up on the x-rays. I saw an orthopedic specialist. Everyone focused on my knee. I got dye shot into the joint area and nothing seemed to be wrong.
It was only after several weeks that a calcium deposit indicated that I had suffered a stress fracture in my tibia.
Crutches weren’t so much fun this time. No cast. No special privileges. No friendly helpers.
Isn’t that the way it goes though as you grow up?
Sometimes, growing up sucks…
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