By Lily Kubek ’17 | Copy editor
It was over a year ago when a casual Tuesday night turned into a moment that affected the next nine months of my life.
It was a freak accident really, and as I sat in the orthopedic surgeon’s office with my dad while he Googled medical studies of what my injury could be, I probably had to explain the incident seven different times. All with the responses of: “Wow what a freak accident.”
Yes, I knew the story was pathetic–sometimes I wished I changed it to something more wild–but this is what happened.
I was standing in the bottom of my drained creek when my friend stepped up and out onto a 40 pound rock and fell forward. The rock dropped directly on my left foot that was merely protected by a worn-out UGG boot. The rock compressed the top of my foot, causing my Lisfranc ligament to tear.
The diagnosis led me to wearing a hard, non-weight bearing cast for six weeks. I remember receiving the news during math class; my stomach turned, and I could barely keep the tears from streaming down my face.
I was given a scooter to use while I was in the cast which seemed to be the best thing that came from this injury. The scooter was fast–it had stable wheels and brakes–making it easy to wheelie down the halls.
South has an exceptionally scary, old elevator I would use to get from floor to floor. It had a wooden cage and a metal door that opened and closed like a mouth. It was both unreliable and creepy; at times the lights would flicker and buttons would stick.
Not being able to walk was frustrating. Everything took so much more effort. I would resort to crawling around the top floor of my house to get ready. When it came to anything, I would have to prepare myself for taking extra minutes to complete a simple task like filling a glass of ice water.
A midfoot injury requires a lot of patience and time in order to heal fully. After the 6 weeks of being immobile, I wore a walking-boot for four weeks and then underwent four months of intense physical therapy.
I learned a lot about myself through placing–what it seemed to be– my fast-moving life on hold. I did not always understand how a freak accident like this could happen to me, but it did. And no matter how many times I wished for the accident to be reverse, I could not change it.
Now, a year later, I am fully recovered. I am back to doing my usual activities and using the stairs at South. But I do think I am different. Post recovery, I feel as though my eyes have been opened; I feel like I have a new appreciation for life and simple things we often take for granted.
Yes, I often think back to that particular Tuesday night a year ago. I can replay it in perfect detail. The rock fell and opened my eyes to see what I have and what I am able to overcome.
