Personal Narrative: My Life In The Football Field

I remember its like it was yesterday. Crisp mid October air washing against my skin, fresh dew glistening on the grass, birds singing in the trees around, then hitting me like a freight train, a whistle blew; I then came crashing back to reality;although, luckily enough we had gotten the ball during kick-off. I sprinted into position, Mid-Field as they call it in soccer;also known as the all-around player who swaps from offense to defense at a moments notice. However, at this moment I had freshly stolen the ball back from our opponents ever so cocky lead forward. To easy I thought as I sprinted up the field; the goal I was about to make would determine the season;first place or second. As my dreams of that shiny gold medal flashed through

Later in the recovery room I begun to feel the difference, the heaviness of my leg the swelling, and overall numbness endured by the mandatory nerve block. After 30 minutes the redressed me in my snap up sweats, and a ratty old soccer shirt. slowly placed me into a wheel chair and eased me into the back seat of my mothers suv. The first two weeks were easy, staying in bed, while watching television not allowing my self to even think about putting weight on my leg even to use the bathroom. The only struggle was showering, my incision was to new to be wet, without fear of infection;therefore I had to sit in my shower with chair covering my leg with a 12 gallon trash bag securely fastened around my leg propped up to decrease swelling. Showers became a chore, instead of a means of proper hygiene. Now at fourteen I was wobbling around as if I were a toddler learning to walk for the first time, not sure of my footing, having to hold on to furniture for balance, as well as reassurance. I began to attend physical therapy:basic actions were now a challenge. Stepping up more than five stair felt like a marathon leaving me dripping with sweat followed by the stiffness from to much exertion. Leg weights became a necessity to me:hundreds upon hundreds of leg lifts,followed by leg presses, and weighted lunges these became monotonous. Slowly my muscles came back allowing me to bend my knee more and more inch by inch every week. Finally after about six months in total I was released. This ordeal taught me