Thursday, August 28, 2008

on injury and impact

Perhaps the most traumatizing experience I have ever suffered was a sprained ankle. Seriously. Alright, perhaps “traumatizing“ is too strong an adjective to use, but it was one of the experiences in my life where I have truly felt my body’s limitations. While a junior in high school, I was a highly competitive volleyball player. Our team was one that had won scores of championships in the past: a team with a legacy. It was expected that we would have a shot at the championship that year. With that goal in sight, my summer before the season was one in which I trained to transform myself into a “lean, mean volleyball machine” True to my efforts, I soon won a spot on the starting team as a middle blocker. There was naught in the world that could deter me from my goal and dream of seeing us at the final game, coming together for a tearful embrace; the championship trophy gleaming in our midst as scores of fans cheer us on.

Yet soon I would find myself with a sprained ankle received from tripping over one of my teammates during the opening tournament. At first, I saw such an injury as being a “battle wound” and a source of pride. My peers all sent their condolences and listened with wide eyes to the tragic story. However, the novelty of this idea faded gradually as I realized how intensely painful it was to maneuver through a crowded hallway with crutches. Baths and showers became a battle of their own as little pressure was able to be put on my foot. I soon felt like a one legged pirate, hobbling my way through the hallway; my “dead foot” dragging on the floor.

At the same time, the physical discomfort was no match for the emotional cost. For an athlete, a heavily sprained ankle at the beginning of a two month season means nearly an entire season benched. I saw the loss of things I held dear at the time: my position on the team, others’ admiration of my skills, and even the muscular density that I had so faithfully built up during the off-season. Looking back, I realize that I had placed such an importance on shallow things that did nothing for my admission to college nor for any vocational path. At the time, taking away my ability to be an athlete was tantamount to breaking my spirit. Yet like a phoenix rises from the ashes, during that period of inactivity, I filled my time with intellectual pursuit and discovered a great love for the health sciences that was crucial towards spurring me to volunteer at a hospital. That volunteer experience soon became one that cemented my decision to pursue a career in pharmacy.

In the end, some good did come out of an unfortunate situation. My focus is now turned towards goals that, I believe, are a bit more socially beneficial. Though I still play volleyball, it cannot hold its previous position as an idol in my life. I would like to say that I’ve matured through this process and such aspirations for personal glory would never come again. Nonetheless, there are moments where I still long for that personal recognition. Except perhaps this time, I would like it to be admiration and gratitude from a patient that has been well served. The cheering crowds and trophy can be happy to exist in my imagination.