ignorance was bliss

Well. If I was as dramatic as I was last year, I would declare that my life was over. And I know it's not. But bad news is always hard to take.

I hurt my hand about a month ago while sparring. Unlike most typical hand injuries (broken and jammed fingers, sprained wrists...) this one caused my knuckles to swell into a bubble and was quite discolored. I thought it was just bruised, so I iced it, took some drugs, stopped punching, and it settled down. But then I went back to boxing and sparring, and any contact - even from knuckle pushups - made the injury recur.

So after awhile I just stopped punching altogether. But I was so frustrated at having my game crippled that I made an emergency appt with my sports therapist right before this tournament. Dr. V is THE MAN. He treats professional basketball and hockey players, and boxers - I would trust his judgement without question (and if you know me, you know I don't trust doctors at all).

I know, I'm a hypocrite. (Take the plank out of my eye). I always advise people to never go to the doctor BEFORE a major competition because it's just better psychologically not to know. The last thing you need is one more thing on your mind, or any reason to hesitate or hold back. But I really thought that at worst it would be a small fracture in my knuckle, and wanted to know it was nothing for my own peace of mind.

That's the last time I try to outsmart myself.

After a few x-rays an diagnostic tests, he tells me that I've torn the hood and that I need surgery. Well, the options were surgery or retire. I hate it when people give me ultimatums that involve retiring, because that's basically saying that I have to do what they say.

The prospect of surgery is one that I never really want to hear. Given my irrational fear of needles and being cut up, that's probably one of my worst things someone could tell me I need. When I tore my knee, the only thing keeping me in the gym through all that insane physical therapy was that it was the only alternative to surgery. Apparently I don't have that option this time.

Rawr.

Well, John (the x-ray guy in Dr. V's office) and I are becoming buddies. I tell him about Taekwondo, he tells me about Muy Thai. I have to say, his sport is worse...knees to the face? Ouch. He says I'm not his most frequent customer though - apparently there's some old lady out there that keeps falling and breaking things as she falls. I've never been so happy to come in 2nd place. Well, and most of my x-rays are negative, that should count for something...

*sigh*

Well at least he didn't tell me I couldn't compete. Though this is Dr. V - he'll always get me back in there no matter what. But this weekend just took another twist...I really dislike being discouraged this close to game day. Please pray for me...*sigh*

T-minus 4 days.

Trying to find perspective.