High Expectations
August 18, 2013, also known as the day that changed my life. At the time of the accident I thought my dreams were crushed. Little did I know, it changed my life for the better. On the softball field, I was getting ready to play varsity my junior year of High School. My teammates, coaches, and I all have high expectations for the big upcoming season. During the final moments before the game, I was feeling nervous but anxious to get the season underway. About to high five all of my team mates, my blood is pumping through my heart rapidly. The sky is bright blue, and the air is clear. I dash across the infield, and launch myself up high in the air. Landing on my right leg, I hit the dirt. POP, POP, POP. Lying on the dirt I felt immobile, and paralyzed with shock. My teammates thought I was only joking. My leg is sitting on the ground twisted into a pretzel. I look over my shoulder and my mom is bending down looking me in the eyes. She knew something was wrong as soon as we shared a silent communication. She knows this accident will be more than we have ever dealt with before. With tears running silently down her face, she dials 911. My teammates kneel down in the dirt with me in disbelief. I felt a wave of disappointment as if I had let my teammates down. Moments later, sirens are wailing down the street towards me. Sitting on the gurney I wave goodbye to my teammates and friends. Feeling numb from the disbelief and pain, I smile. I was taken away from my teammates, away from my best friends sitting in the stands, away from the dirt and the game I love, something that has been in my life as long as I can remember.
The anguish was plastered on my parent’s faces, as we rode to the hospital. What I soon found out made me face a change, a challenge; I wasn’t sure I was capable of overcoming as a seventeen year old. The surgeon gave me the terrifying news, a torn ACL in my knee. Surgery and 9 months of rehab were now in my future, not softball. My dreams were shattered. I could feel the warmth of my mom as she held me in her arms as I broke down in this moment of realization. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to recover from the mental and physical pain I was about to soon endure. However, my parents knew the charisma, determination, and strength I’ve acquired would guide me. Weeks to follow, I soon conquered my first stepping stone, surgery.
My next step was 9 months of rehab. I worked harder at therapy than I had in my entire life. It consisted of relearning things I never thought I would have to. My mom took me to therapy three nights a week for four months. Feeling like a toddler, I relearned how to walk on my own. This was only just the beginning. I soon grasped how to squat and bend my knee. In the next few months after that, I jumped for the first time. Looking over to my mom with tears streaming down her face, I