Same Again

• Chris Patrick, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2017

It's a curious thing isn't it? To be able to break something in a matter of seconds yet to put it back together takes weeks, months, even years.

Breaking my knee brought many challenges with it. Not only the physical pain, but also the realisation of not being able to play badminton, the sport I love, for at least eight weeks. It was a blow to my heart, more painful than the exterior pain. Only now do I realise the true impact badminton had on my life. I guess the old saying, “you don't know the importance of something until you lose it,” is true after all.

And here I am now, a month after my injury, lying down on my bed, resting, not being able to move as every time I shift the position of my leg, a jolt of pain rises through my right knee. My body’s way of screaming at me, don't move your leg Aron!!!

So all I can do is think, and that's exactly what I do. I let my mind wander my memories until it stops at just a week after the incident.
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My father was trying to comfort me before I had my surgery, saying "It's ok Aron, even Rodger Federer, the champion tennis player, had this injury, got surgery and continued playing a few months later." It's funny how a simple statement like that was able to boost my confidence significantly.

I was lying down on the tray. My heart racing, my mind filled with unwanted thoughts.
'What if it goes wrong?'
'What if I cant walk again?'
'Even worse, what if I can't play badminton again?'
The coolness of the metal beneath me was lessened by the sheet on top, yet adjoined with my fears, it was more than enough to send shivers down my spine.

The nurses were escorting me to the operating room. The bright lights shining down onto my face. My parents, right beside me, holding my arm and telling me it was going to be alright. They were trying to stay strong for me, though they weren't doing a good job of it. Out of the corner of my eye I could see my mum. Red faced and trying her hardest to hold in a waterfall of tears. That was the last I saw of them before entering the operating room.

The surgeon put a mask on top of my mouth. A wave of anaesthesia flowed into my body, filling me with sleep...
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I shake myself awake back into the present before I get too caught up on the past. Even still, I catch myself with teardrops coming out of my eyes. That was a dark time in our family, one that I will not let resurface. I will myself to bury those thoughts but one question persists. One question that will only answer itself through time. One question, that has been with me since the very beginning... 'Will I ever be the same again?'