It is said that there is a defining moment in a person’s life in which a change of opportunity or perspective. This moment, it is said, brings light to the meaning of a person’s existence.
Well unfortunately I’m either blind or that defining moment it’s dragging it’s fucking feet to meet me.
About a month ago I broke my knee, a piece of my fibula, tore 4 out 6 ligaments on my left leg, tore my ACL, and damaged my Achilles tendon. A person may ask, “Joel, how the fuck?” Well to answer that question is simple. Basketball. I wish that I can share a great story of how I went for the game winning point, rising up for a lay up and landing to a devastating destruction. Although I should just have said that, the reality is that I had the ball in my hands, I pivoted to right and my feet forgot the memo. I couldn’t explain anymore than that. It was that senseless. It was stupid.
Rests assure that I will walk again, but this isn’t a feel-good share the inspiration blog. No, this is me venting my mind before loose my shit. Even though I didn’t become an amputee or lost my limbs in a devastating situation, I broke my knee and some playing basketball. The feeling of uselessness is more overwhelming each day as I walk from room to room in a walker at my parent’s house. My dad jokes that I should start a scam by hanging out at the freeway exits with a sign begging for change. The first week back from the hospital was bad, I had the shakes for the two days; sweating and sleepless nights. I honestly don’t know how I would have done it without my mother. There wasn’t a day she wasn’t at the hospital with me, bringing me food and juice, I couldn’t stand the hospital food with all the morphine that I was getting I didn’t have much of an appetite. Even at home she did her best to make sure I was comfortable. My sisters, in the other hand, were great and I love them, after the first week back home they’ve had enough of my shit. One of my sisters constantly tells me “You can get up, use the walker, and do it yourself.” Don’t misunderstand the love they have for me, they mean well. I love those stupid bitches, even though life would go a lot faster if they just stopped talking.
I am very easy to irritate, I can’t stand the stupidness of people as a whole. I feel that stupid people have lost their way away from the short school bus and made it their life’s purpose to ruin people’s lives unconsciously. For example, in the hospital post-operation, I had this huge pain in my leg and for some fucking reason my nurse was no where to be found. If one nurse was missing from his/her post everyone looses their shit, I’m in the hospital bed in agony and these dumb fucks cant put two and two together and give me something for the pain? I’m screaming my lungs out in pain, keeping my roommates up; a man about my age telling me to “hang in there”, a bible-banger praying for me across the room, and some other guy who said nothing the whole time he was there. My nurse was finally appeared and gave me my morphine and they regulated the amount of time in between injections of morphine.
I love morphine; that sweet liquid made by man that takes all your worries away, feels like dropping from a rollercoaster into a gentle bliss, three hours later it ends.
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