Busted up in NYC
by Joanna D.
I felt it smash when I landed. FUCK. Shit, shit, shit! No (a long string of choice cuss words, some new ones, inventive ones) way! I laid there on the ground. Squeezing my eyes shut as if I could erase what just went down.
Maybe it’s just sprained. Fuck no, you idiot, it’s broken.
Maybe if I just try to move it I’ll see, it’s not broken. It’s broken.
Fourteen hours in the ER. Morphine, couple shift changes, lots of nurses and a couple doctors with confirmation I did in fact break something. The Talus bone in my left foot. Though this bone is small, it’s an important one. Surgery?! No surgery? Still not certain. Tomorrow will be the decider of that once I again enter into the cog of American Healthcare. Proud.
All you had to do was pause. Choose a different route. One different move. How could you be so CARELESS!?
The inner war began immediately. It’s been hard enough recently to decide what the right decisions are. To make the right decisions. Still knowing what it is I want yet battling the shadows of uncertainty cast by wings of doubt. There’s been enough doubt. Enough! What I believe in has been tested and pushed. TESTED and PUSHED.
Did I choose this?
Choice is an interesting thing. Simple yet complex. I suppose it’s a choice I made. Perhaps a result of the choices I have been struggling with. Minor injuries, personal losses, struggling for a gain. For a while now I’ve been facing a need, or a desire, for a place to heal, space to heal, to think, to re-coup. However, I believe it could have been a little less forced and a lot less literal.
One: I still know what I want and what I want to do. And I’m not going to stop doing it. No matter what.
Two: I have more faith and belief in what it is I have been doing, and who it is I have been learning it from, than I ever have.
Three: Life’s lessons will continue to bless me with their persistent presence and relentless force.