I could not walk. It had been almost two weeks since I had felt the ground beneath my left leg. My knee had been far to injured for me to walk without pain, so I was restricted to crutches for the time being.  I had to go to a physical therapist as well. Every two days, he tried to bend my knee, apply pressure, and see how much I could walk.

“Bend your knee. Up, and down.” The doctor instructed me on what to do as I gripped the chair I was sitting on with all my might to try to calm the pain. “Good, you are doing very well.”

“Still hurts like hell,” I replied.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “it will get better soon.” He told me to bend my knee several more times and I let out several whimpers of pain. “Have you been doing your exercises?”

“Twice a day, everyday,” I told him. “I want to throw those crutches out a window already!”

“I wouldn’t blame you! Want to try and walk?” It took me a minute to respond, but I shook my head yes. I grabbed my crutches and moved over to the main room where there was a bar that I could hold onto as I walked. I laid the crutches down and undid my knee brace, so I could walk more freely. The doctor waited for me on the other side of the walkway. He kept nodding as I looked at him for when I should start. I put my right foot on the ground first, and I was fine. I smirked. Then, I placed my left foot in front of my right. In that moment, I felt the most painful feeling I had ever experienced. I fell to the ground and screamed in agony.

I felt so embarrassed.  All around me were people who were doing so well with their injuries. They were getting better. They were recovering, and then there was me, on the ground, laying down trying to hold back tears. I looked at my mother who looked as though she was in as much pain as I was in. Earlier that day, she told me how much it hurt her to see me in this much pain. I told her it hurt me more. We laughed about that for a little bit.
As I was on the ground, all I could think about was getting up. I just wanted to show some progress and finally get better. I kept on thinking to myself, get back up. Come on, you can do this. Just get up. As much as I tried, I could not will myself to do so. I asked my doctor to help me up and he did. He brought over my brace and my crutches and told me that it was all right and that I was doing well.

“No I’m not. I fell, and I couldn’t get up!”

“Trust me, it’s only been two weeks, you are doing phenomenally! You’ll be back swimming in no time!”

“Yea,” Honestly, I didn’t know if I was happy about that. I have been swimming all my life, and all I got from it was a torn patellar tendon in my left knee. 

I hobbled on my crutches over to my mother, asking her if we could leave. She signed me out and we waived goodbye to the doctor.

The car ride home was almost silent. The radio was off and the only sound was the wind forming around the open sunroof.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“About what?”

“You know what. It’s been two weeks since I got hurt and still nothing!”

“This isn’t going to heal over night. It’s going to take time and effort.”

“I don’t want it to take time! I just want to be able to walk without falling in pain. Of all of the things that I’ve had to deal with in my life, this is definitely the hardest. It just hurts! So much!”

“I know,” my mother said as tears were coming down her face. “I wish it wouldn’t, but it does. You have to keep working and doing the exercises.”

“I know I do, and I am. I just wish that this would be over already.”

“So do I, Ronnie,” she said, wiping her tears.