Dear Injury,
We were never really formally introduced because I first denied your existence before deciding to finally make room for both of us in this sometimes cramped living space. I mean, 5'6" is not a lot of living space for two big egos (and sometimes even one). While we're adding insult to injury, the very nature of your essence forced upon me the somewhat less-than-desirable reference of "pubes" during my many athletic therapy sessions. The presence of a stress fracture in the pelvis does sufficient damage in causing me to consider the possibility that I've actually lived to be my reciprocal age (72)!
It's been 10 months since my athletic therapist suggested that you and I meet up, and I admit that I was nervous. I mean, what was I going to wear? What were we going to have in common and what could we gab about, now that I had been yanked off the roster in my final season and handed (what seemed to amount to) an athletic death sentence? This diagnosis essentially robbed me of my usual (though largely ineffective) charms, and what kind of first impression could I have established, given the circumstances?
Now, let's not ignore the pink elephant in the room: before we even made our relationship official, we were living together for about 4-5 years...at least that's what the bone scan seemed to indicate. I mean, it's not like we were doing anything wrong...right? But thinking on it now, what kind of a co-habitant(e) was I? I was vaguely aware of your presence, and still snuck out to run and play field hockey in the evenings. I knew that you could tell from the pain that I was in an abusive relationship, and you did try to warn me about what would happen if we (FH and I) didn't take a break. Well, when I finally heard you, I winced and realized that I had to conceded to the inevitable "I told you so" and move on.
So, now that we've got that out in the open, and we've become so well-acquainted (despite sleeping at opposite ends of my proverbial/corporeal bed), let's me take a few minutes to tell you what I've learned in 10 months of (officially) living together.
1. I never meant to ignore your calls, but the call of ego, passion and habit is just so alluring and seductive that it kept me from really listening to what you were telling me.
2. We may have made our peace, but now that I feel healed, I realize now how much I needed you.
3. Although I cried so many nights, lying awake, wishing your demise, you taught me the meaning of unconditional love and never left me alone.
4. By overcoming my stress fracture, I did not defeat you. I earned your respect and my independence from you.
5. Trying to figure out who I am (through things other than what I do) is a journey in which you have been a necessary and helpful guardian.
6. If we ever meet again, remember to remind me to remind you that you said "I told you so" and bonk me on the head (but not too hard, I've already broken this nose once and I'm practically in the negative with my concussion record).
7. We're going hiking in Banff tomorrow, and there isn't any room in the car for you.
Seeing you move out, over these past few months has been oddly difficult. I was actually getting comfortable having you around. We shared many still days, sleepless nights and frank discussions. You taught me what it means to listen and you even mediated the ever-improving relationship wounds that I'd been trying to mend with my body. I feel that, like everything, your lifespan within my own is finite, but I won't let you go without thanking you for speaking up for me when I wouldn't speak up for myself. To keep the best part of you alive, I will never stand by while a lesser part of me allows injustice toward myself or let any other person believe that they are deserving of anything inferior to the highest standard of health and happiness that we, together, can achieve.
