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What Hurts The Most?
Why did I have to jump? Fifteen stairs not a good idea; I was in the air and wishing that I hadn’t jumped that I could rewind time. No turning back now, and out come the landing gear. Epic Fail. Needles, fire, pain, and fear all on my mind all at the same time.
It all started at my friend Nate’s birthday party. Right when I jumped I knew that it was a big mistake. His parents Mark and Brenda brought me home after the crash; I couldn’t walk so they carried me in the house. I then iced my feet immediately which didn’t help so my parents took me to the best hospital in town; the only hospital in that case. I can remember it like it was yesterday, sitting there in severe pain waiting for my name to be called. I was six then; what they were saying was going directly over my head. I had enough intelligence to piece a couple of words together. What I got out of it, was that I had torn tissue in my heals.
Here I am an active second grade boy with the ambition of recess on my mind; however, I had a walking boot on my right foot with a mind of its own. It’s almost like these boots are to ruin a kid’s childhood. I felt like a car with a parking boot on, I was immobile. On top of that it was winter and there was snow on the ground and in my boot as well. I’d come home every day thinking, “Why me?” Worst winter break ever!
Earlier this year during freshman football season, my feet started to irritate me very badly. When I would come home from practice, I could barely find the strength to walk from the car to the house. I’m pretty sure that having metal tipped cleats didn’t help the matter. Football is by far my favorite sport, so no way am I going to miss out on the season. The pain was unbearable, but I managed to find the strength to tough it out untill the end of the season.
Basketball season rolls around, and what do you know the pain sets in. My feet feel that they might as well be amputated. My mom caught on that I was having foot pain; she secretly made a doctor’s appointment for my feet. The day of the appointment, like normal I hobble in to find out that my feet are worse than I thought. I found out that out of a possible 100 my feet are a 25 which is horrible for 15-year- olds. The doctor said I had to wear night splints and orthotics in every shoe I own. Orthotics OK, night splints not OK, next appointment is set.
Two weeks later he explains to me that my feet are getting worse. I asked what was next. Man, I really regret that question. He walks into the back room and returns with a walking boot. The doctor said I had to wear it for four weeks, worst four weeks ever. On top of that, it was winter again; déjà vu hits me. To make matters worse, we were living in a hotel because our house had recently flooded. The hotel had no elevators and many stairs to climb.
My checkup appointment was four weeks later. I told the doctor that I have not felt any change in pain; we have a short conversation. In the conversation, we discuss the possible outcomes that would happen if we were to take the walking boot off; he tells me three more weeks in the boot and left the room. I was not a happy camper. In the car on the way back to the hotel I didn’t want to talk to anyone, I was mad at the world.
“This doctor doesn’t even know what he is talking about.” I thought outloud.
“You need to do what he tells you to do.” My mom replied.
“Why if I feel no change and it has been a solid month.” I added.
“You’re going to do what he told you to do and that’s that!” My mom said with authority.
Three weeks later come to find out more bad news. “Man I swear this guy is a fountain of bad information.” I thought to myself. I now had to do three weeks of physical therapy two times a week. My mother and I approached the physical therapy center and it was a really nice environment. The people were nice, the facilities were nice. The physical therapist and I met for the first time he then verified and labeled my foot condition. Apparently it’s called (Plantar Fasciitis). Whatever that is!
By the time those three weeks were over I can honestly say it felt like my feet were healed; we ordered my baseball cleats. Mid baseball season my feet started the bother me again, I tried everything to help myself out but failed over and over. I would not, I repeat would not miss out on baseball season. I tried zoning out the pain, which failed; back to square one.
Baseball season is over and I go back to the doctor to get custom made orthotics which are very pricey. Luckily he wasn’t there. He wouldn’t have been particularly happy with me because I played another sport. Come to find out that my feet are the worst they have ever been. I was ten fitted for custom orthotics; they’re supposed to do wonders. We also were considering cortisone shots, possibly surgery if needed.
We’ll see how my feet react to what’s coming to them, hopefully it all works out. It has to work out, what else is there to do but hope for the best? The custom orthotics are on order and my mom has made me an appointment to go to Shriner’s Hospital for my foot condition.
One way or another, I am going to try and have a painless and complete football season.
BY: Cameron Schlenker