Two years ago I broke my ankle playing indoor soccer, and I honestly have not been the same since. I obtained lovely scars from my surgery and have metal plates and screws in my ankle. Unfortunately, I have not played my beloved soccer since or participated in any other forms of rigorous exercise. I had a bimalleolar fracture, which means I broke both sides (the tibia and the fibula). I have been reflecting on my experience because I am going to see an ankle specialist tomorrow.
It was the last ten seconds of the game. We were tied with the best team in the league. They had absolutely crushed us the first time we played them. It was a co-ed league, but the girls on this team were just as good as the guys. I wish I could say the same about myself. One of the girls played for a MLS team. The ball was bouncing toward one of their defenders, and if he received the ball, he would have kicked it to one of their cherry-picking forwards. Game over. I could under no circumstance let that happen, so I attempted to prevent the defender from getting the ball. However, he was about twice my size, so I decided to throw myself against him as hard as possible while blocking his path to the ball. (Yes, I know this is obstruction….) I went flying of course, but this is not an unusual occurrence for me, and I was fully expecting to bounce up and continue my pursuit. However, this time I caught my toe on the turf and put ALL of my weight on my ankle. I was on the ground, and my foot was underneath my leg. I was in excruciating pain and yelled until some guy put my foot back in the right direction.
People kept asking me to wiggle my foot or move my foot up and down, but I could not. It turns out that my bones were actually detached from my ankle joint. Ouch. We lost our game too. Penalty kicks are the worst. My Dad had to carry me out to the car, and we knew I needed to go to the hospital, but it was already after midnight, so we decided to go the next morning. I looked at my ankle, and it was about seven times larger than my other foot. It looked like I had Elephantitus. That is when I began to cry. I realized I probably just ruined my entire summer, and one of my worst nightmares was going to come true. I was going to get fat.
Let’s rewind a bit. This was going to be the busiest summer of my life. I had three jobs. I was taking two college courses, and one of them was Anatomy and Physiology – gag me with a spoon. I actually learned about ankle fractures the day I broke my ankle. Ironic, yes? I was running five times a week and lifting three. I was very proud of my summer plans, but breaking my ankle made me realize that I was not in control of my life. God is in control through the good times and the bad.
To be continued…