Results

On Monday after the tournament my Dad wanted to go into the doctor just to make sure nothing serious had happened. My foot was starting to feel better and I was walking on it in small amounts around the house so I was not worried at all. I went in to get x-rays and then have a meeting with a sports medicine doctor at Mayo. The doctor tested my foot and determined that she thought it was just a sprain, they did not have to take x-rays, and I would start doing physical therapy. I told her that we had actually already taken x-rays so she pulled them up on the screen. Her eyes got big and then she turned to look at me. I had several broken bones and needed to come back for an MRI. This was crushing news because it meant that summer softball for me was most likely over.

Later in the week I had my MRI. If you have never had an MRI it is a very unique experience. You are in a tight, confined space and have to stay very still. It is super loud so they either give you earplugs or headphones to block out the noise. None of these things bother me and I have fallen asleep every time that I have had to have one. The longest part of this process was waiting for the doctor to call me back about the results. When we got the call I was sitting in the kitchen with my mom. I can remember watching the blood drain from her face as she frantically wrote things down on the notepad in front of her. It was much worse than anyone had expected. On the top of my foot I had a severe Liz Franc ligament tear. Evidence on the MRI showed that my navicular bone was dented and I had shattered off pieces of other smaller bones. She was referring me to a surgeon to determine whether or I not I needed to have it fixed. 

Waiting to meet with the surgeon was one of the most nerve racking days of my life. Before this I had never broken a bone, much less had to have major reconstructive surgery. Sitting on the hospital bed I was faced with two options. The first, I simply wait for it to heal on its own. There is a major risk that it will not heal properly and that I will have to have surgery anyways. The second option crushed me, it was to have surgery and go through a 6-12 month recovery process. The decision was up to me but the doctors we recommending heavily that I have the surgery. They gave my family two days to go home and think about it. I was able to keep it together until I got in the car and looked at my mom. Tears started streaming down my face and I could not make them stop. I had so many emotions flowing and did not know how to take in this information. I was completely silent the whole ride and when we finally got home I went straight to my room. Hundreds of things were swirling around inside my head and I felt like the world was crashing down on me. I just did not understand. Why did I get hurt? Why does it have to happen now, in the middle of my summer? What is going to happen to me? What if I can never play again? I laid on my bed thinking about all of these things and came to the final conclusion, so what? Yes I have to have surgery. Yes I am going to lose the rest of my summer, fall, and most likely basketball season. Does that make me happy? No, but is this going to stop me from achieving my dreams? I am going to work as hard as possible during PT to come back and when I do I will be an even better player than before. 

I knew that I had to have the surgery. I could not risk waiting six months and then still having to under go surgery anyways. I did not accept the fact that all of this was real until I was crutching into Mayo on July 11th, the day I had to have three screws and a plate put into my foot.