Unlike my last post, sometimes I find myself on Pelee Island at the most inopportune moments. Times when I should maybe have been someplace else. This past summer that day was August 15th. Days previous, I opted out of going home for my daughter Megan’s softball tournament. Always her best cheerleader, I could miss just this one, right? After all, my husband Rob could take her and they could use some father/daughter time together. I tried not to feel guilty.
I guess the first omen should have been the back catcher on the other team. At 5’-10” she already had tattoos. Not that there’s anything wrong with that but up against Megan’s 5’-2”, 98 lb. frame it must have been a little intimidating. Coupled with the fact that she was called up to play with this select team, I’m sure she must have felt eager to impress. Regardless, it wasn’t long before Megan’s play hard attitude had her sliding to third base on a play.
It was during that play that Megan sprained her ankle. The pain wasn’t immediate and so she finished out the game. All that was noticeable at the time was a torn sock and a cut where her ankle made contact with the ground. It wasn’t until the next day that her ankle swelled up and a visit to the medical clinic revealed she had torn ligaments and an infection that was making its way up her leg. Armed with crutches and antibiotics, they made their way home. I went home the next day as planned and feeling a little guilty for not having been present at the time of her injury, proceeded to dote on my daughter in the days that followed.
In an attempt to gauge her symptoms (I was convinced the infected cut was flesh eating disease) I would continually ask, “How is the pain?”
“It really hurts.” was always her reply.
“On a scale of 1 to 10?” I’d ask.
“8.5” she’d answer.
For the next week, that was her reply every time. According to Megan the pain was just not subsiding. That’s it, I thought, definitely flesh eating disease but then I realized that this was pretty much the worst injury she had ever sustained. Never mind that she could sleep through the night and hobble around just fine with crutches, it was an 8.5 as far as she was concerned. I was able to relinquish my thoughts on flesh eating bacteria.
Seven weeks in and Megan is almost 100%. Dare I say her pain is finally a zero? As for my performance as a mom, maybe not a 10 but certainly not a 0.
Megan back catching just prior to her injury.