Last week, I got benched.
I went to swim laps and as I started to get into the pool, I noticed that I was bleeding, a lot, from my leg. A vein, which migrated close to the surface after I was hit by a car a few years ago, had sprung a leak. As I sat in my own blood, pressing my hands against my leg, my biggest fear was that I would die in my bathing suit. I was mortified. The last thing I needed was probationary police officers and EMTs-in-training taking my blood pressure while I was practically naked and why hadn’t I bothered to repaint my toenails? I think I managed to apologize to everyone, at least twice, for the horrible inconvenience I had caused.
An ambulance ride, a few stitches and a lot of tears later I was sent home with new rules.
No swimming for four days.
No open water for at least three weeks.
In the hospital, four days seemed like an eternity. How could I stop doing the thing that was becoming the routine, the thing that I had come to love and prioritize? Later, as I was trying to sleep, I kept replaying the scene over and over. There are visuals that only time can erase. They haunt and keep sleep at bay. During the long night I came up with new questions. How will I ever face those lifeguards again? Why could I only think of two people to call? Why did I ever think I could do this? What if it happens again and I don’t notice until it’s too late?
I’m not sleeping the way I did last week. Last week I came home wet and worn and slept easily. Today was the fifth day and I wanted to go swimming, but I couldn't do it. Suddenly, this adventure got scary and I am afraid. I try to think of the people I started swimming for in order to gather the strength, the children and adults who fight cancer, not as a hobby or on a whim, but because they have no choice. Those who survive their ordeals continue on, knowing that danger is always lurking, but that every day is a gift.
Tomorrow I will try to get back in the water for them.
I won’t give up because they can’t give up.
Photo by Brian Auer http://www.flickr.com/photos/brianauer/
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