I Tore My MCL And You Can Too!

I was leaving swim practice Monday night. I have to leave a little early on Mondays so that I can get to the wonderful Kris Stoner’s house for a bit of community. I was walking through the locker room at the pool and the janitor was mopping. I said aloud to the janitor, “Wow. It’s wet. I should be careful.”

Famous last words. I slipped, heard my knee pop in the air, and then landed on my knees and hands.

An hour later, after a lot of tears and irrelevant X-rays and one sadistic, knee prodding doctor, I was told I tore my MCL. Tearing an ACL ends one’s professional football career. Tearing an MCL puts one in a lot of pain, but one can “easily” recover. So my recovery plan: wear a metal knee brace for six to eight weeks, take codeine, do not stand, elevate knee at all times, and ice every chance I get.

Tuesday I went to school and tried my best to elevate, not stand, and ice. Being a teacher is hard. Being a teacher and then being told not to stand is almost impossible. And I have really great classes this semester. But I made it through the day, went back to swim practice (I know, I know) and then cried in pain that night. Then we were on Thanksgiving break, the perfect time to rest. Well, I did not rest. I cannot rest. I ran errands on Wednesday, went and hung out with friends, and elevated when I could. Thanksgiving I sat and iced. Then Friday, I went to the ER.

They thought I had a blood clot in my leg. Turns out I did not, but talk about some of the scariest hours of my life. As I was waiting for the ultrasound results my mom turned to me and reminded me of the woman I was afraid to make angry when I was in middle school. “Mira. Listen to me, I am the mom, you are the daughter. I am telling you, you must rest. You must let me help you. And you have to relax.” Now, that does not sound scary, but if you know Sebrena, then you know it was terrifying.

I am so grateful for the community I have. From family, to coworkers, to fellow Crosspointe members, I have a wealth of people to help me. I have friends who are willing to drive me anywhere, to cook food, and to clean my apartment. But I rarely ask for help. I am prideful. I have a hard time accepting help. I want to prove that I am not an invalid. I can clean my apartment, wash clothes, cook dinner, and grocery shop. But then I earn a spot in the waiting room at the ER. I have to learn to accept help. I have to trust that people are being earnest in their offers to assist me. I have to acknowledge that people want to be helpful. I would bend over backwards (which with my current situation makes me sick to think about) to help anyone that was in my situation.

So why can I not acknowledge and receive these helpful offers? I feel weak when I receive assistance and I do not want to admit that I am weak. I have been taught to be a strong woman: that I should be independent, thoughtful, and brave. So I try to do that in everything I do. Including tearing my MCL and trying to live a “normal” life. Now, I am not blaming how I was raised. This independent spirit is something that I have procured over the years and is something I am proud of. But I feel that if I do not learn to accept help now, then I am only further hindering my recovery plan.

The song “With A Little Help From My Friends” by The Beatles popped into my head when I began writing this. I need to lean on my friends, for they are there when I am alone, sad, and need help. And for me, the hard part to comprehend is that they want to be there, just how I want to be there for them. So after a not so restful Thanksgiving break and foreseeing plenty more frustrating moments over the next eight weeks, I have decided to ask for help, to humble myself, and welcome aid. So my friends: please keep offering to grab papers for me, to take books across the room for me, and to carry my bags to the car. I want to get by with a little help from my friends.

My new recovery plan: wear a metal knee brace for six to eight weeks, take codeine, do not stand, elevate knee at all times, ice every chance I get, and accept assistance. All of these things will make me stronger. I am sure of it.