Bad Cramp Research Paper

I woke up startled and didn’t know where I was. I had an IV in my arm and my parents were staring at me. The doctor came in

It was the aftermath of the Friday night game that I’ve given any signs of an injury, and my family and close ones felt sorrow for me and the following Monday. Throughout my life, peers and elders engraved an image onto me being that sports held a bright future for me, and it will lead to the true path of greatness, and one single injury puts me an aggravating, melancholy rut. Viewing my teammates playing angered me since the injury forced me into a world of therapy for the rest of the season. All the promises I made for myself were undone, athletic scholarships, the path to greatness, and my only school pastime and passion flowed throughout my body and into a pipe dream.

My freshman year of high school I broke the Scaphoid and growth plate in my right wrist while playing in a basketball game. I didn’t know that it was broken for two weeks and I played in three of four basketball games with my broken dominant hand. I found that is was probably broken the Monday before Christmas. On Christmas Eve I was told that I would be put in a cast for the entire Christmas break and on January 3rd we would find out if it was really broke. Sure enough we came back and told that I would have to be in a cast for six to eight weeks. I was pretty devastated and upset that I would be out for the rest of the season, it had barely begun. I was staying pretty optimistic about it because it would give me a chance to work on my weak hand, it was my left, and make it stronger. I still went to practice and worked as hard as I could hoping that the coach’s

I believe Jimmy Connors best embodied my attitude toward failure in his iconic quote, “I hate to lose more than I love to win.” As someone who has actively participated in sports all throughout high school, as well as serving captain of the varsity football team this senior year, I am no stranger to Failure. As time goes on I have noticed the losses tend to stick more than the wins. I believe this is because of all the ‘what if’s that accompany failure. What if I had been a little bit faster? What if we didn’t drop that pass? What if we stopped that play? No matter the team, no matter how hard we played, every loss always left me with these same questions times 1000. However, no loss was more impactful than this year’s Thanksgiving day game

Eventually though, my frustration through this injury disappeared, and I can contribute that to physical therapy. I was entranced by the profession. Keeping active and healthy while helping all sorts of people regain their confidence in their own bodies. The environment was relaxing yet productive and I immediately felt at ease. I could trust these people and they could get me out of my slump. As I finished up my rehabilitation (that went without a hitch I’m glad to say) I realized that a job like physical therapy was something I felt an extreme passion for.I could see myself as a Physical Therapist, and the qualities clicked with me; patience, empathy, optimism and determination. I may have given up football, but a new path opened up for me. The ascent into my future had finally begun, and stopping is not an

When I broke my Tibia and Fibula playing football my sophomore year of high school, I started to really think about what I wanted to do with my life. I had a lot of love for playing football, and I knew that I did not want to stray too far away from the sport. It wasn’t until I started going to physical therapy that I realized that I didn’t have to, so I decided that I wanted to be a physical therapist, to help other people get back on their feet. However, my junior year, we got a new athletic trainer at my high school. So, I decided to ask Mrs. Pam if she would mind if I shadowed her, to learn more about what she did, and how to help other players with their injuries. She agreed, and I spent my junior and seniors years shadowing her. I learned

I showed up in uniform to tell my coach of the news I had received from the doctor. He gave me back a response that was the perfect sentiment I needed to hear "That’s terrible man, that’s nothing you can take lightly but you are a part of this team so you are still gonna be with us all the way through even if you cant get on the field,". That’s exactly what I did too. I stayed with my team and went all the practices and every game. I participated as much as I could without over working my arm. None of it was ever enough for me though. None of it was ever as sweet as actually being apart of real baseball and being apart of the wins. It was soon time for the next appointment where there was no good news. The doctor said if there was anything to be done it required immediate surgery. This felt like great news, finally getting something done and going back to the game I love. I went through surgery, and the doctor told he did everything he needed to do to fix what was believed to be the problem. I began the healing process as soon as I could and I went to all my physical therapy sessions with one goal. To get back on the field. Little did I know that there had been no progress inside my elbow and I required an additional surgery. Of course I was ready for anything it took to get back to baseball. So another surgery, more physical therapy, and the entire healing process over again. All of it goes by with one thing on my

As I put off opportunities to improve my skills, and my character, the toll only became harsher and more difficult to overcome. In turn, my status among the other athletes began to deteriorate. Witnessing my peers expedite their game as I still struggled did not phase me so much at the time. In fact, I was sure that my role on the team would remain the same. This was obviously false, as within the matter of weeks I was pushed back further in the batting lineup, and committing more errors in the field than ever before. It was during our playoff run that I had realized the resulting detriment, when each player was counted on more than ever before. We ended up making it to the championship, only being one run short of winning. Although our team was able to accomplish that much, I felt short handed when it came to the successful

One failure in my life occurred when I tried out for my high school’s softball team. I had been playing softball for most of my life, and there would only be fifteen players trying out, enough to create a team without cutting anyone, so I got onto the team but found that I wouldn’t have a place on the field because another player occupied my position. So I spent the season figuratively on the bench rather than playing the game I loved.

It all started freshman year when I was playing football. It was the worst day of my sports career that I have ever experienced in my life. It was the first play in my high school football career and it was a punt. I ran down the field and made the tackle. As I was making the tackle someone hit my elbow and they broke it. I went to the hospital and they put me in a cast for four weeks. After the four weeks were over the doctor took my cast off and said everything was fine. The rest of the year it felt good. Then the next

I wake up and I am not entirely sure where I am at. I am laying in a bed and rolling around as someone is pushing me. The door infront of me opens manually and I am pushed through the door still not knowing what is going on. I have a sling on my arm, but I cannot feel it at all. My right arm is numb from the shoulder down, but as I am rolled into my room I see my mother, father, and grandma sitting and waiting on me. I remember now; I just came out of shoulder surgery that could possibly make or break my baseball career. The doctor comes in and explained what happened in the operating room, and explains that everything went very well. He had no complications and that after I get food in my system that I could leave. Everything was happening

My Physical Therapist told me, “ If you work hard and do all your exercises at home then you will be back to baseball in 10 months, but you will probably not be able to make it back to play your senior year of baseball.” With that being said, it basically took all the motivation I had built up out of me to do well in therapy. Why work hard in something if you know that it’s not going to get you where you want to be? Questions like that lived inside of my head for days, the thoughts of not being able to play my senior year suffocated me at night. Leaving me wide awake until my eyes could not bare to stay open. Why me? What did I possibly do to deserve such a harsh injury and set back? I was trapped inside of my own head. For weeks I went through the motions not only at physical therapy, but also with my life. Before getting injured I thought I had everything figured out. Then it seemed like life just slapped me in the face and laughed. My only motivation for doing well in school was Baseball. Since I had that taken away from me I had no reason to want to do well in anything. I was falling behind in my classes, but most importantly I was falling apart as an individual. These types of behaviors and actions went on for three to four

I’ve have been through hardships and hard times, especially with sports. One of many injuries was when I was playing basketball during open gym. As I went up for a contested lay-up, I twisted my leg. Not knowing it was still planted, I chipped the tibia in my knee. Though it hurt, I was still was able to walk it off. My father and I went to the

Ignoring the pain and swelling in my hand, I rushed to the field to begin

I was thirteen, and I had just come home from a school softball game. My friend Dalton had invited my sister and I to come and swim at the neighborhood pond. My sister stayed home, but I got permission to go. After a while of swimming, Dalton looks at me claims that he’ll jump out of a tree near the bank if I jump out. Of course, I accepted my friend’s little dare and climbed into the tree, focusing on the seven-foot-deep drop-off off of the bank. Regrettably, I didn’t jump far enough. My right leg landed in the drop-off, but my left leg hit the clay, which caused all of my weight to shift to my left foot. I felt an immense pain in my ankle and started screaming while crawling over to the bank as Dalton ran to get my mom. After I finally made it to the emergency room, I found that I had broken my fibula at an upward slant, which caused the upper part of the bone to slam down into my ankle.I had completely blown out every ligament and tendon on the left side of my ankle. I had to have a plate and four screws implanted into my fibula along with the surgical repair of all of my ligaments and tendons. The entire ordeal left me extremely interested in the human body, and this interest was heightened when I had to get my appendix removed a few months later and again when I took Anatomy and