“I’m looking at it right now… Looks like you’ve torn it all. Wow, you really did a number on your knee. Everything. ACL, LCL, MCL, Meniscus. You still have your PCL. Sorry kid,” I heard the doctor tell me.

F*ck.

1. Surgical Rewind

Okay, here I go. I’m gonna come back like AP; Peterson would be proud. I’ll f*ck shit up, just wait. Just wait. Oh god DAMN it, why did my knee just give out like that? Are you serious right now? Oh I can’t wait for surgery, cut me open right here right now. How soon can you put me on an operating table?

Practice will be fine. I’ll watch them, maybe learn more, cheer everyone on…

Hell no. I’m not going. Nope. Too depressing. I should be out there. Why me? I’m going to SLAM the team that hurt me. They’re going to wish they never hurt me…

What if I’m never better? That blog about that guy’s ACL blowing up like a nuclear bomb could be ME. For all I know they could use dirty instruments and give a me a graft infection.

Why hello nice doctor. Yes, I know what an ACL is… Bitch do you think I’m that misinformed? The internet. Yes, the internet. Yes, I’m a Kin major. Yes, I know the graft choices. Patella, yes, I want the patella not the hamstring. Don’t ask me again. Why are you asking me again? Seriously dude? I took a class ALL ABOUT MY INJURY. THE PROFESSOR POINTED ME OUT IN FRONT OF 150 KIDS. I COMPREHEND, YO HABLO INGLÉS.

2. Drug City Bitch, Drug Drug City Bitch

Okay, so apparently they give me mad drugs. I’ll be good, no worries. It’s all good. *doctor walks in and draws on my leg*. I’M GOING TO DIE. THIS IS WHERE YOU CAN LAY ME DOWN TO REST.

Oo, yes sir, I will take the muscle relaxer. *five minutes later* Holy shit. Can I have a goody bag of these to go? Just tie a string around it and call it a day. You can just smuggle them like a true Doctor House would do for his patients.. and himself. Please?

Oh, what’s this gooey stuff? Nerve block? Heh, it’s cold. And gooey. Cold and gooey, where have I seen ...ARE YOU ULTRASOUNDING ME? I TOLD YOU I WASN’T PREGNANT. Oh, it's just the nerve block. Right, heh.

How did I get in the surgery room? Swear I just closed my eyes for a sec. Who is this lady talking to me holding a mask? Oh the sleep thing, okay got it. Will I wake up in the middle of surgery? If I wake up, I’ll be pisssssed. Oh here I go, okay no warning? No telling me to countdown?*** Awesome, cool, okay, 99, 98…

*slowly opens wielded shut eyes* What year is it? Where am I? Get this off my face. Why is this thing on my face? WOMAN I CAN’T BREAT- oh shit what’s that feeling? What is below my hip? Do I have my legs? Oh my god where are my legs? Did you AMPUTATE my legs? I knew this was the end, where is my mom, you will be hearing about this from my -

“Oo, I don’t like that face. Does it hurt?”

…Biiiiitch. Are you serious? Does it hurt? Are YOU on drugs?

“Okay, let’s give you some good stuff.”

So you got me a goody bag of that stuff? Man I knew you people were amazing. Now get this mask off my face before I suffocate. Seriously. Off face. Also, pills. I need the pills. Now. Give me the pills. I’m dying. Seriously woman, you and your associates enflamed my knee.

*five minutes later*

I AM GOOD TO GO. MOM I AM STARVING. And oo.. Everything is glowing and really nice. I think I’ll stay here a while.

***I’m a redhead so anesthesia doesn’t work on me like other people. I sat there for a solid fifteen f*cking seconds before I went out. They had to constantly adjust it for me because I was sitting there like a deer in headlights.

3. I Took A Pill In Ibiza

Who knew Oxy was the most kite-flying drug around? Heh, mom doesn’t like my joke about selling all the drugs I got to cover my tuition. It’s a solid idea though.

The couch I’m sitting on is pretty nice, pretty brown, pretty. And wow, I think I really want a tiger. I’m going to text all my friends for a tiger. I could use a hotdog. I could use food. Food, oh my god food. I live for food. Where is the food, I am going to gnaw my hand off right this sec-

THERE IT IS HOLY HALLELUJAH. Breadsticks from Papa Ginos. A large order of bread. Just for me. Carbs. Just for me. Wow. Am I crying? This day is a beautiful day.

Wait, what was I doing? *dozes off for five minutes*

Right, tigers. Need a tiger. And a hotdog. Hotdog tiger. Is that a cross between a hotdog dog and a tiger? That’s what I’m gonna dress a dog up like. Or a tiger. I wonder how the tiger would feel about a hotdog costume over it’s stripes. Clashing too much? I don’t think the fashion industry would mi-

*dozes for a few more hours*

F*ck. My knee.

4. Sarah Mclachlan Days

Day 9. I’ve been sitting on this couch, lifting my knee for several hours, making sure the blood is flowing and I’m going to punch the next person who asks me if I “want to hang.” LEMME JUST GRAB MY KEYS AND GET GOING I’M NOT IN PAIN OR ANYTHING.

*clicks remote* “In the arms of an angel… If you could just donate to this poor dog..”

I AM ALREADY EMOTIONAL STOP THIS SARAH WHY DON’T YOU JUST PUT THE WARM WATER ON WHILE I GO GET MY WRISTS READY.

I’m pretty sure they lit a fire in my knee and forgot to extinguish it. THESE PILLS DON’T EVEN WORK. Vicodin and Oxy are not real. They don’t work. Nope. No matter how many I take, my knee is a lump of weight I will never use again.

I will never ever walk again. Never ever ever.

I am mind f*ckingly depressed. I will never wish this on anyone.

5. Because I’m Happy

It only took months of PT and a better attitude, but at least I can walk like a human. Aw, look at that guy in the brace, should I nod at him? I feel you dude, I get it. I so get it. My prayers to you dude, eat a lot of carbs and know there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

You know, I wonder when my leg is going to start looking like a leg and less like a shriveled raisin while my other leg pretends it’s Hulk Hogan? Those scars are pretty cool actually.

I feel like I’m in a community of survivors. That girl totally recognized my scars and compared her surgery. We both have stories up the asshole about surgery and drugs and how going to the bathroom was actually the hardest task in the world. Taking a shower was so hard we would cry every single time we stepped into the bathroom.

And now… Now I’m on the road to recovery. I never thought I’d get here. And to hear my doctor tell me I can run? BEST NEWS EVER. I am so much stronger because of this. And I won’t take the use of my legs for granted ever again. I can walk. I can run. I can feel my knee stretch and creak, and yeah, it feels weird. Sometimes the graft is a reminder of everything. Sometimes I rub my scars in memory of being held captive by injury. Sometimes my knee turns a weird way and a flash of terror hits me. No, no I’m okay. I’m more than okay.

And I’m probably going to get arthritis and be in a lot of pain when I’m older. But I’m going to be a badass old woman, with scars and pain and stories.

F*ck yeah.