Facing My Fears

The car ride was taking forever; for a twenty minute drive it seemed like it had been over three hours. I remember that ache in my stomach, caused by the nervous thoughts running around in my head.
“You okay back there?” my Dad broke the silence.
“Never better…” I replied. Looking back I was actually terrified. The thoughts raced through my head “What if they mess up? What if I wake up during it? What if I’m never able to play again.” The car finally came to a screeching stop, my crutches lead the way into the dark building.
I was handed a shirt, blanket, socks and a hair net that reminded me of the cafeteria at school. I was shown to a room down a long hallway to put on the clothing. I remember the whole room: a white wall with a faded rainbow window. There was a bed in the corner which sent shivers down my spine. The nurse opened the door; she seems very friendly, I remember thinking. The first thing I remember her doing was writing the the letter R on my right leg; the sight creeped me out. She connected a few different wires to me to measure my breathing and heart rate, which was very abnormal. It didn’t feel like surgery to me; it felt like they were trying to keep me alive. She could tell I was worried "Just slow down your breathing,” she continued to say. I hadn’t even faced the hardest part yet. The IV, the needle had to be put in my vein - the sight and feeling stung. The first time it didn’t work, and then the second time it didn’t work. I was so frustrated and scared as I watched my heartbeat slowly increase on the monitor. Then they finally got the needle in and everything began to slow down and become blurry. The morphine was kicking in. The I realized my bed was being taken out of my room and down a hallway through two big doors.
The flashback hit me: the reason why I was here. That cold day in May. That game and that one moment of time that determined the reason I was here. I kept wondering: how can one second, one decision change your whole life? I had the ball; I could’ve taken the shot but I didn’t. I passed the ball to a teammate who missed the shot. I chased the ball down and tore my knee charging back to the net. What if I hadn’t passed the ball? What if he hadn’t missed the shot? What if the other team had beaten me to the ball? Would things have been different for me? Would that one step - bam! torn ACL, MCL and meniscus - have happened? So many questions start with “what if?” I only know what happened. I passed the ball. He took the shot and missed. I chased the ball. I made the dodge. I blew out my knee. And that was the moment that changed my life. Forever.
I snapped back to reality. I was wheeled into another room. The room was so cold, so cold I could see my own breath . Looking right I could make out several doctors wearing white clothing with sky blue gloves and masks. I felt like a lost soul. I tried to talk but no words came out. I tried to move but my body wouldn’t listen. The room became darker and darker. A mask was put over my mouth and the last words I heard were “What are you doing over the summer?”.
It felt like a second later that I was waking up back in my room at the hospital. I realized that it was all over and a sigh of relief swept over me. It was a feeling like no other: it was feeling of happiness, excitement and enjoyment. Sometimes the thing you're scared of isn’t all that scary. Sometimes you face down your fear and come out of it all right. It was bad but I had imagined worse. I didn’t die; I survived. My knee is better - way better - not worse. I learned to trust what the people around you are telling you. I learned to listen to what they say.
Now on I look back on the day not as painful experience but as something that opened my eyes to the bigger picture. I learned from this experience to do everything like its your last chance and keep a positive outlook on the situation. I realized that I’m stronger than I thought I was. I know I can overcome big challenges and succeed. Today I continue to apply this to my own life. I am still recovering from this injury but I’m almost there. I am stronger than I was. I am braver than I was. I’m not afraid of a challenge. I know I what I can do.