As I crutch around the halls of Darden, I'm met with a mixture of concern and condescending remarks. It's not as if I openly chose to return to crutches for my third time this year. I suppose on some front, I should give up the sport that gives me such agony. Even with the injured ankles however, I find that thought heart-wrenching. How can I actually give up something that I feel partially defines who I am?
This past Sunday I visited ER for the first time in a long while. Shortly after halftime of the first co-ed soccer game of the season, my foot jolted to the ground and I rolled over it with a large pop before pain began. Second degree sprain was the doctor's diagnoses and given that I own my own pair of crutches, he likely thought he'd leave the rehab to me.
I know my classmates don't mean to sound annoyed by my injury. I guess it does look funny seeing I started last year with the same injury. That said, it doesn't mean that I'm unaffected. I don't want to be in this state any more than they want to see me in it. In the future, do me a favor please, if you're not genuinely concerned with what I did, don't say anything. "Again?" equates to a backhand to the face in my mind. I take the proper precautions and I do the best I can to stay on my feet, but without quitting the game, I still risk injury. And the injury is never fun, even if it is the third time this year.