i'm an undecisive shopper... this is gonna be rough
I never knew I was so stubborn. But, being told you can't do something you love is the worst. My heart was torn in two when the doctor told me about my medical prognosis.
It was now time to admit that my arm was not healing as originally planned. Throwing was becoming more and more painful, not to mention the all too familiar tugging sensation returning in my elbow. With a fun addition of annoying twitch whenever I moved my arm. My surgeon grew more concerned the more my physical therapy reports showed the following: 3.7.19 : patient explained intense tugging in elbow & 3.14.19: the patient has been told to stop throwing due to an extreme increase in pain and loss of sensation in the middle, ring, and pinky fingers (r). Yep, an overall decrease in strength, endurance, and flexibility. But, the most concerning part was the constant pain I was always in. Something wasn't right. I already had an inkling of what was to come... more testing... more searching.
Now for one of the hardest doctor's appointments, I have ever been through. I had to skip practice and go alone. To me, this was just another weekly appointment to update my surgeon on what I was feeling, so I didn't think I needed any emotional support. It started like any other appointment, they took my vitals and asked about my pain scale rating(8/10). Then came in Dr. Riedel. We discussed the tugging symptoms and moved on to the physical exam.
First, we started with the ulnar nerve glides. These are both a great stretch and a bit uncomfy. As I moved my arm in the designated positions, he moved his fingers along my nerve path, gently taping as he went. With every tap, there was that weird twitch followed by a stabbing pain. I winced and he took my left hand and placed it in the nerve pocket near my surgery site. Tap and then he said, "feel that twitching?" I nodded. "Is it painful?" I nodded and explained that it felt like each tap was cutting into my scar. "Kiddo, that's the nerve... it's moving." Shocked and a bit confused, I took a minute to get my shivering lip under control and blurted, "Ok just put pressure where necessary to put it back in its pocket. I'll bite my shirt." He shook his head, and grabbed my hand, " No kiddo, we need to surgically move it..." My stomach dropped and the tears came out. "Another surgery....? " He then explained the surgery benefits, plan, and risks.
I tuned it all out when the words "the biggest risk is not being able to throw or play softball again". My first thoughts? Fuck that. I'm not having a surgery that might end my softball career. I haven't even begun to really live my life as a collegiate athlete, something I had strived for ever since I was 10 years old. Then, my other reality set in. I hadn't been able to actually use my right hand in over 2 years. Things like picking up my little sister, typing with both hands, writing with my right hand, and even brushing my teeth were actions of the past. What would my future be like? Would I be able to hold my own baby later on in life? Is law school still a possibility? I soon realized that I would have to think about a life where I wasn't Jazzy the softball player.
Who the hell was I without softball? For the past 2 years being an injured player on the roster was hard but I still felt like a softball player, like I was part of the team. Now, being the injured player having surgery after surgery began to diminish the core athletic part of my identity. The only thing I could think about was the little girl in me who gave softball her heart. I felt like I was letting her down, past coaches, and especially my dad, the person who took me across the country for tournaments my whole life. After the shock wore off, only one question remained. Should I say goodbye to Jazzy the softball player? I needed advice and I needed it bad. So, I talked to my parents, Cal, old & new friends, old teammates, and pretty much anyone who really knew me, the me who felt the need to prove to myself that " I did it. I fulfilled my goal of playing college softball". The only people I couldn't feel like I could talk to? My team. After all the endless inquisitions and doubts about my injury and my pain, I didn't want to worry about judgment. But, the two people I knew had my back? My coaches.
I drove back to campus and parked right in front of their office. I checked around for any straggling teammates and made my way up. I broke the news and broke down. One thing to know about me, I hate crying in front of people. But, I felt like my heart was torn in two, I couldn't help it. Coach Jose calmed me down and spoke me to me softly, "I'm so sorry kid. I can't imagine what your going through and the stress of making a big decision like this. Now, I'm gonna talk to you like a dad cuz that's who I am at heart. I know softball means the world to you, I can see it with how much you try to stay involved even though you're limited and in pain. But, if my daughter had an injury like yours, where it isn't just about getting back to the sport, but getting back to living your life, I would hope her coach would tell her to consider everything. You're a young adult who should take advantage of this new found time to grab new career opportunities and prioritize regaining your health, rather than antagonizing yourself stuck in the dugout and not in the field where you want to be. Take time to let the news sink in and digest it" And with that, I contemplated it all. A week later, my 3.28.19 physical therapy report read: patient walked in with 9/10 pain scale. "I'm going to have another surgery" patient states.
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