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You forgot something...
I have countless scars and irreversible bruises. I would have to say the greatest amount of my scars and bruises are from the glorious sport of softball. One of the most memorable injuries is when I dislocated my shoulder whilst severely spraining it.
It was the third week of July and our last game of the tournament, this time we were up against Roseburg. Their uniforms were red, black and gold. I would say all of the players looked almost identical, with their long brown hair In one braid tied off with a small gold bow. Our uniforms on the other hand weren't as fancy as theirs were. That's okay though, it's not about the uniforms, it's about the way you play the game. Our uniforms were blue, white and yellow. We all wore our hair differently. The catcher and I wore our hair braided down. The rest of the team wore theirs up in messy buns. I would say the majority of our team's hair color was half-and-half with brown and blond.
I had already been battered from the previous week of games and practices. It was the last inning and my position was shortstop. It was like any other game; four rubber bases, three strikes, two eager teams, one field and one winner. Our pitcher, Jasmine pitched the ball, the batter swings and the catcher catches the ball. The catcher hops up from her down position and fires the wild ball to second base where I was awaiting to tag out the runner on second. Only to my surprise to see that the ball is just far enough from my average reach that I am forced to jump and catch the ball. As I was in the air, the second base runner stutters to third and rounds off to home plate. Meanwhile, the first base runner sprints to second base and begins to slide. As I'm beginning to land back on my feet, the 'slider' collides with my feet, causing my body to fling to the ground in a considerably strange angle; landing on my right shoulder. The sound from the impact was intense. I was in so much panic, thinking more about the sound rather than the pain. All of a sudden, I felt my shoulder aggressively get warmer and warmer. It was about 108 degrees outside being one of the hottest days that week. I figured that maybe the cause was because it was so hot outside? No, that's ridiculous I thought afterwards. The heat was tingling inside my arm. You know when you hold your arm over a chair and it cuts off the circulation making your arm get that prickly, tingly feeling? That's exactly what I felt inside my shoulder.
It took me a bit, but I quickly jumped on my feet, threw my mit on the ground and faked my throw to first with my left arm, then sprinted to third to tag out the base runner. After the play was over, my coaches called for a time out and ran onto the field. My teammates as well as the girls from the opposite team, took a knee.
"I'm fine, I'm fine!" I explained sobbing.
"Okay, honey but I have to check out your arm. Where does it hurt exactly? Does it hurt here?" Coach Sarah says as she gently lays her hand on my shoulder.
"OUCH!" I shouted while pulling my body from her hand. "Please Coach, this is the last inning, I can make it! I know I can make it! Please, please, please?" I said pleading for the chance to continue on playing.
"Fine," Sarah says apprehensively with her hands held high, walking back into the dugout.
The coaches left the field, the opposite team as well as my team clapped, went back to their positions and I continue to play, unaware of the damage that had just been done to my shoulder. As we continued on with the game, I backed up my teammates with the best of my ability. I am overly passionate for softball and would play day or night at any time.
After the game ended, I dragged my feet to the dugout with my head hung low. I sat down on the bench and sobbed from the numbness in my stiff arm. I wondered why I was in so much discomfort? Normally when you fall, you only collect a few bumps and bruises. Usually you're still able to move your body parts?
My dad who is an assistant coach, put an ice pack on my shoulder. Boy, did it hurt! I was fine with it because I know I need the ice pack to help with the swelling. I get up to congratulate the Roseburg team, as did my teammates. We walked in a single file line, high-fiving the other team. After the teams were finished high-fiving, two of the coaches from the Roseburg team came up to me and said...
"Great job Breezy! You're a great sport! Way to tough it out kid! I would love to have someone who puts in as much effort as you do!" One coach said with the biggest grin you'd ever seen. He had sort of this 'Super Mario' mustache going on. He was also just as tall as me. He shook my hand and walked off.
"Awh, thank you so much! That's so sweet!" I said stuttering.
"You play with your heart Breezy! It truly is great to see someone put their heart and soul into it! We can tell you've put your all into every game this past week! Good job kiddo!" The other coach said in amazement.
"Oh my goodness..." I once again stuttered but this time with tears of joy.
The coach nodded to me and walked back to the dugout to finish up packing the gear. He seemed sort of weird to me? He had blonde hair with patches of grey. Looked as if he had a five o'clock shadow.
I walked back to the dugout to pack up my gear when I feel this tug on my shirt?
"Come on, let's go!" My dad rushes.
"Where is my gear?" I questioned.
"It's in the truck, let's go get you to the emergency room!" My dad says quickly, he always tends to over worry, I guess that's what dads are supposed to do, right?
I waved everyone goodbye and quickly caught up with my dad who is ahead of me. As we passed the concession stand I noticed this moving object in the distance. As I recollected my vision, I saw that it was a group of girls, each one from a different team waving at me shouting...
"Good luck Breezy!" While jumping up-and-down. I was amazed that they all knew my name? It was really sweet of them to do that.
We eventually reached the truck. My dad helped me into the truck and carefully buckled my seatbelt, avoiding my arm. Thankfully my dad has been to Roseburg countless times before so he knew exactly where the hospital was. After we checked in with the crude lady at the front desk, we sat in the waiting room for 45 minutes when we were finally called up. I sat in this very cold and drafty office while the lady asked me questions about what I had previously done to my arm and what events led up to my injury. She was a very nice lady who dressed in bright, neon colors. She talks like a teenager but she looked like she was in her thirties. When she was done asking me questions and examining my arm, she took me to a room numbered 346. I waited there for about 20 minutes before she came in again, to give me a shot in my hip. She called it "Goof-Juice," because it makes you "Funny," after the shots, she walked me over to take x-rays. I walked back to my assigned room and sat down for another 45 minutes. In walks the doctor...
"Well...you've dislocated your shoulder. I'm going to prescribe you some medicine since you're going to be in pain for a decent amount of weeks." The doctor uttered. The doctor open up a small box and pulled out this black object called a sling. He had this creepy grin on his face. He explained how to put the sling on and how to take it off. After the doctor was done explaining, he walked us out to the front office.
"Good luck Breezy!" The doctor said giggling. We walked out to the car and headed towards camp. We were halfway to our destination when it hit us...
"I never got my shoulder put back in its socket!"