I knew the
severity of my injury by the hesitation in the surgeon’s voice. When they cut
the temporary cast off of my ankle, he breathed in all the air in the room
before he spoke a word. That’s how I found out how badly I’d broken my ankle.
I
had broken bones before. Honestly, more than I’d like to admit. The doctors
maintained an upbeat tone when I’d come in for other injuries. But as Doctor
Stewart looked in shock at the size and bruising on my ankle after two weeks, I
could feel the anxiety in the vibration of his voice as he told me we needed an
MRI to know what was wrong exactly. Here
are some photos of my foot that day at the appointment. The next
morning after my MRI, I received a call saying my surgery would be tomorrow at
1pm.
I showed up
unaware of the procedure about to be performed. The doctor asked if I had any
final questions, and I asked what he was going to do exactly...
As
it turns out, I fractured my talus bone in my ankle. (Which I would not
recommend to readers at home.) To repair the crack, I would need two pins in the
center of my ankle. The Doctor told me
that it would take a year to heal. I didn’t believe him then, but he would be
right. I tried to run away from what he told me, but you can’t run away from
a broken ankle.
Here is a photo after the
surgery.
My
grandparents and my mom took great care of me after my surgery. I was in and
out of sleep often and fairly medicated, so those few days are a little blurry
following my procedure. The earliest thing I can remember after my ankle
surgery was pain in the night. I don’t mean to whine here, but if you’re
reading this and you want to know what it felt like, it fucking hurt. It would
wake me in the dead of night like I was being stabbed from the inside, and the
injection point for the nerve block in my thigh ached like a deep itch that it
hurt to scratch.
I
opted out of the crutches quickly after falling once or twice in the ice that
winter. I moved up to a stylish knee-scooter instead, which sounds way cooler
than it feels to ride. I couldn’t put any weight on my leg for a good month or
so after surgery, so the knee scooter saved my life. If you get one, make
sure it has brakes. I rode that thing to class, practice, and even to
Daytona Beach for NCA College Nationals. Here’s me on my knee scooter after
surgery.
(Please don't be offended by the caption; not my snapchat photo)
So I haven't told you what I do.
I’m a college cheerleader. I broke my ankle doing a
tumbling pass. (For those of y’all who know tumbling terms, it was a round off
whip through to full on spring floor.) The floor is put together with
carpet-like pieces fitted together with velcro strips. Where I landed my
tumbling pass, there was no Velcro, and thus, I dislocated my ankle so far that
it snapped in half, essentially. That was February 27th, 2015.
My team
still competed at Nationals, overcoming some incredible difficulties. Not only
did we compete at Nationals, we won 1st place. And as great as that
was for me to witness, I didn’t get to compete. I had to learn how to give
constructive criticism and be a sideline supporter in order to feel involved in
the routine. Changing roles from leading by example to leading through my
corrections and comments was extremely difficult for me, but it taught me to be
a better teammate and a better friend. I needed a lot of help still, and they
made me feel like I was a part of it all from the sidelines. Thanks, UTA. <3
When we returned, I had to start
walking around my house, and that felt like such a foreign concept when they
told me I could walk. To think that, I really believed I couldn’t walk 6 months ago is mind-blowing to me, now. Soon after that, the Doctor placed me in a walking boot.
I didn’t push myself the way I should have right then. I told myself that it
hurt too badly, and that I could do it later. And I was wrong. If you have
had surgery and are timid about using your limb again, do it now to spare the
pain later.
Physical therapy started slowly and
painfully. I recall the first time she told me to walk across the room without
my boot, I was embarrassed to try. My teammate was there that day, also in
physical therapy for an injury, and I had to pretend that I wasn’t about to cry
as I walked across the room. It felt like I would scoot my foot out as far in
front of me as I could and then I’d quickly shift to it. That shift was
painful. I should have made myself walk
more without the boot, but I didn’t and this prolonged my recovery I think.
That was about May 2015. By July, I
was walking in the brace with a crutch. I coached cheerleading camps and had to
hobble around leading children through a gym, and it was hard. I’d leave my
crutch somewhere thinking I’d be fine, and have to send a kid to go fetch it
for me. Walking was difficult for a long time for me. I got a handicap pass
that made the walks to college classes easier.
Then came the really tough part,
getting back to normal activities. For most people, normal is being able to
skip, or maybe go on a jog. For a college cheerleader, that’s being able to do
standing backs again, and more. I needed to be able to jump up, flip, and land
on this ankle again, and that- at the time- was a far-off dream.
Physical therapy continued to
become more difficult, and my ankle grew stronger every day. I relied on
inspirational quotes on Instagram and watching old videos of my own tumbling to
keep myself motivated. Even if I couldn’t flip, I had to stay in shape. I
gained more than a few pounds after surgery, anyway. I struggled to find a
workout that challenged me and raised my heart rate at first. I did a ton of
pushups, curls, and handstand exercises on the wall for a while.
First, I
was cleared by the doctor to stunt again. This was my first day back at
stunting.
I started to workout harder as I
was cleared for more activity. I would ride the elliptical for an hour at the
gym, and then do arms. It took a long while before I was cleared to use the
treadmill. I felt ridiculous going to workout in a boot, but you have to do
what you have to do.
My therapist started doing
exercises with higher impact, and I had to re-teach my ankle how to push off the
ground, how to land and how to bend past its point of comfort. After what
seemed like forever, in November 2015, the Doctor cleared me to tumble and
jump.
At first, it still really
hurt. I thought that maybe he was wrong about it being healed. I had to learn
to push through the pain, and that with repetition, each time I tried would
hurt a slight bit less. I’m still having to face the reality that this isn’t
going to feel like it did before.
It feels as if someone put some
foreign object in the center of my ankle, and I guess they kind of did. Some
days I wake up, and it hurts to step forward for the first hour or so. But if I
push through and don’t let it hold me back, it stops. I try to remember how
badly it hurt at the beginning when it bothers me now. Sometimes it helps,
sometimes it doesn’t.
The tumbling progressed much slower
than I anticipated. I always hated running, but I realized that I needed to
start running to build my ankle’s strength and endurance back up. If I couldn’t
run, how could I expect to flip?
I would run just up to a mile and
then stick my ankle directly into a bucket of ice water every day I was able
to. Slowly, this got less and less painful. It was a strange feeling to know
that I had the endurance to complete my run, but not the physical capability
some days.
My doctors weren’t optimistic, at
all. They told me that it might be time to hang up my cheer shoes and retire to
a lower impact hobby. I refused to take
no for an answer, and that made all the difference.
Here are some of my better days of tumbling after surgery and physical therapy.
Disclaimer: I do not own this song or any rights to it. However, Spose is a very talented rapper from Wells, Maine and this is his song, Nobody featuring Watsky.
Practice
was much harder once I started tumbling. We don’t compete on spring floor, so
practices are on dead mat. I wouldn’t recommend flips on a dead mat on a
freshly healed ankle, either. I had to push myself past both the fear of doing
what I’d hurt myself doing and the pain of doing it. I couldn’t have done that
alone. Thank you to my teammates who pushed me to find in myself what I’d
lost.
I thought
that this was the end of my battle, but the real battle came up out of nowhere
for me. One day, they said we would practice on spring floor. This meant that I
had to tumble on my new ankle on the same exact floor that I had broken it on.
In retrospect, I let those words get to me far too much. Thoughts of the next
practice circled my head like vultures, and I spent the majority of that
morning freaking out about it.
I know that
I was making a mountain out of a mole hill, but this really was the most
mentally stressful part of my recovery. I had dealt with the consequences of
what happened that day for almost a year. I broke my ankle February the year before, and
here we were again. Déjà vu. My teammates could tell that I was stressed out,
and the only ones who really understood were the people who were there when I
broke it.
It’s weird
how emotional memories stick with you. That break struck my life like a
wrecking ball, and reeked emotional havoc on me. I can recall the entire thing:
I remember
being late for practice that day and it was iced over and when I came into
practice, my coach wasn’t mad, but I did have to tumble like the others already
had. So we ran through the routine, and my toe-touch-back-tuck was great, my toe-touch-two-to-a-layout was great, and I went to the corner for my last pass-the whip through to
full. I remember looking at the group of people supposed to be lining the
diagonal and thinking they seemed a little off... but I had to go anyway. It was
a great pass, if I do say so myself. I remember setting for my full and spinning
with ease and the floating feeling on the way down to the-FUCK THAT HURT.
And this practice in February
2016, it all came back to me like a rush and I finally knew how to end this
story. My teammates cheered from the corner and around all the edges of the
floor. I was crying, I’ll admit it. I was terrified, but determined. I had our
choreographer stand there so I felt safe, and I ran at that corner like I
wanted to smash it.
That first
full felt off, but I did it. And then I did it again, and it felt weird but
better. And every time I do it, it feels more natural and like it used to. It
is still a fight every day, but the fight is so worth it to get to do what I
love surrounded by the people who believe that I can.
I don’t
expect that you will have a journey like mine. I’d be surprised if anyone did.
But when I broke my ankle and turned to the internet for someone’s story, I
didn’t find one to relate to. I hope someone, somewhere finds this and is
inspired to keep going even when everything else in the world tells you that
you can’t.
Your body can endure
almost anything;
It’s your mind you
have to convince.
Shelby Z Currie
If you have a story to share about your injury, please comment below. I'd love to hear about it.
Thanks for reading