Let the pain be your guide

During my first minute of playing time during last Friday's expo bout against the Vette City Vixens, I took a bad fall. My knee pad slipped off, and I fell directly on my knee on the concrete. I didn't think anything serious had happened, but I also couldn't really get up on my own. The usual "oh no, there's an injury!" hush fell over the audience right when I was saying, "I'm fine. I'm okay!" Later, a couple people from the audience remarked that they heard me say that loud and clear and had to hold back giggles.

The paramedics gave me some ice and, at my prodding, said I could go back in the game if I felt okay in a few minutes. A few jams later, I realized my wrist was hurting pretty badly. The paramedics wrapped it for me and helped me put my wrist guard back on - I was going back in the game after half time! But, no... the knee swelled up and filled with fluid and the wrist swelled up and started aching. So, off to Urgent Care for some x-rays.

This is the point where those of you who really know me can applaud me for my restraint in not saying I was fine and going back in the game against all common sense. As for the rest of you, you can applaud my restraint a couple paragraphs from now.

While I was growing up, my family lived in Yellowstone National Park during the summers. My brother and I participated in a summer program for local kids. One year, we had flyfishing classes, and each kid got a certificate at the end of the class. I think Ross got "Biggest Fish" and "Most Fish." I got, and I quote, "This is to Certify that Briggette has completed the Mammoth Kids Summer Fly Fishing Program. In appreciation for her effort, she has been awarded the TRUE GRIT AWARD for continueing to fish despite painful and ghastly injuries sustained while traversing the treacherous Yallerstone Country." My most notable ghastly injury was when I impaled my shin on a stick while climbing a tree overhanging the water to free someone else's errant fly.

Similarly, at the end of my 9th grade track season, the coach presented each of us with a small object reminiscent of our performance. I got a half-full bottle of "No More Ouchies," a numbing antiseptic. That was the year I had growing problems with my knees and wasn't supposed to run if it hurt. If I told people it didn't hurt, that made it true, right?

My life's goal when I was younger was to run a marathon when I was 16. (My dad's a marathoner and Ironman. I don't just think up crazy stuff like that on my own.) So I started training during my junior year. Apparently when I was a baby, my bottom ribs didn't attach like they were supposed to and all the running (and a thousand crunches a day) made one of them start sticking out. A person with good sense probably would have stopped running. I wrapped Ace bandages around my torso and kept going. After the marathon, a piece of the rib had to be taken out.

And then two more marathons. Rugby (one concussion, minor sprains and bruises). Administrative assistant job (tendonitis). Roller derby (one concussion, minor sprains and bruises, back injury, damaged toenails).

So back to last Friday. My husband drove me to Urgent Care for knee and wrist x-rays; nothing is broken. I asked when I could start practicing again and the doctor said, "Let the pain be your guide." I could sense Jeff rolling his eyes, and I briefly thought, "Great, I can still play in Oklahoma next weekend!" The doctor ruled that out, but then she said again that I should let the pain be my guide and start practicing again when I felt better. But really, concrete numbers are the way to go - wait two weeks? Ice for 2 days? I can follow directions like that.

Let the pain be my guide? Please! If I waited until I felt 100%, I would never get to do anything! When have I ever done that? What I need is to somehow develop a stronger sense of self-preservation and a measure of the pain level at which normal people rest instead of pushing through. Any suggestions? Oh, wait, this is a derby audience. You've probably all received True Grit-style awards yourselves.

It's been 6 days since I practiced. You can applaud me for my restraint now.


PS - Here's a fun video. It's from DDG's B-team bout against Chattanooga last year. In the last few seconds, I call off the jam then get clocked in the head and get a concussion.