Worth It

By
More by this author
When you hear things you don't like, you ignore them. A common fact. And that was how I felt when my seven-year-old friends told me my feet were ugly when we went swimming. And I ignored it. All the teachers say ignore bullying. Walk away. And I did. I was proud.
When I was eight I joined a gymnastics class on the weekends. I slowly worked my way up. Beginner, intermediate, advanced. I had made it to the final step before joining the travel team, that was until my coach called my dad over after class.
"Your daughter's running is off," she said. I frowned. I tried to run like the other kids in the class, keep my feet in. But they always stuck out, and they always hurt so much. My dad nodded, "I think she has something from me. My mother had it." The coach looked at me. " I think she should see a doctor, soon"
And 2 years later I was in an operating room. My hands tied down. The doctors preparing a mask for oxygen. Heavy towel for blood being laid down by my feet. A couple needles, and suddenly I felt like I was no longer alive.
I woke up being wheeled down a corridor towards the recovery room. My teeth felt all wrong. I felt so heavy. I threw up.
My parents had told me it was worth it. I had a pretty bad case of calcanial pronation, or something like that. And the doctor had given me an Evans-Moscow calcanial ostyotomy. The words meant nothing.
I swore I would never have another surgery like that. No matter how much it was worth it. No matter how little pain I would have after it.
But here I am again, about 2 and 1/2 years after the surgery, in a cast typing why I agreed to have another one.

But hey, it's all worth it.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback