I know, I know it's been so long since I posted last that I couldn't remember my password. It's not that I didn't have anything to post about, it's just that I've been lazy. But here I am sitting in bed, cold, not want to get out, and playing with my new laptop. So now I have no excuse not to blog.It has been exactly one year and 11 days since that fateful day where I went under the knife, and am now cursed to run like a horse for the rest of my existance. How did this all happen? Well, that is what I am about to tell you.
Sadly, of all the stories I've accumulated over the years, and all the injuries I've inflicted upon myself, this story has the worst consequence for the least amount of stupidity.
The BYUH library has blessed me with knowledge, friendship, and the ability to access Facebook. It was there I met one of my good friends, Mikey. We would sit next to each other and "do homework" or try our best to distract one another from getting anything remotely productive done. There, I would tell Mikey of all my adventures and injuries. I would read him stories from my "black book" where I would record all of the best ones. He decided one day he wanted to be apart of my history and make it into the infamous Black Book.
Little did he know that he would be apart of the biggest injury of my life...
It was the day after Thanksgiving 2007, and a beautiful beach day. So beautiful in fact, I went to 4 different beaches, and for the first time in the history of our friendship, Mikey and I spent time together OUTSIDE of the library. It was a memorable day of it's own without incident filled with Waimea and Matsumoto's. The waves that day were HUGE, but that didn't stop us enjoying the water.
We decided to make one final stop before we headed home. What better place than Sunset beach at sunset? We took pictures (the ones you see above) and played a few rounds of "take it like a man" where you jump into a big wave and avoid getting smashed. We were tired and happy and ready to go home. We got our stuff and I made one final trip to the water to rinse off the sand. This is where I made my fatal mistake. There is a vital rule one must always follow when dealing with such powerful elements. Never turn your back to the ocean.
I was finished rinsing and I turned to go back to the car where right in front of me were some tourists taking pictures of the sunset. I stopped and waited for them to finish as I felt my feet sink deeper and deeper into the sand due to the receding water. Just as I was about to step forward and...BOOM...I was hit with a thousand pounds of water, a wall moving so fast, I had no time to even know what was going on. All I felt was my feet go over my head, my body twist and turn involunatrily, and my knee cap move in a way it was not meant to be moved. The ocean spit me out like a bad taste and all I could do was lay there helplessly waiting for my limbs to function properly. The pain in my knee was unbareable but familiar. This was the fourth time it's been dislocated.
I have an irrational fear of hospitals which is kind of ironic since I spent 3 years working in one. It took me a day and a half to make it to the Emergancy Room. One month later, I was on a table having parts of me discarded like last nights left-overs. Needless to say, Mikey got his story in the black book, and one year later, I'm still reckless as ever with only a small gallup in my step. Even with pot holes in my knee cartilage and a grinding bone, I will still do my best to be the last man standing.
