Zero Readership

...so, it was years, and years, and years ago, but it's the only bone I've ever broken, and I'm pretty proud of that. I actually have great faith in my immune system, in my body, and its ability to fight off infection and disease. As far as I can tell i'm immune to poison ivy. During Uni I took a field course in Ontario archaeology, and we ended up digging in a field of poison ivy, and all but three of us ended up with severe reactions to the plant. I take pride in that.

Whenever I get cuts and scrapes I don't usually tend to them. I don't, because I know that my body - my immune system - will be able to handle it.

I rarely get colds or the flu. I never get a flu shot. I've had the flu maybe once in my life.

I had chicken pocks when I was a kid, but that's it.

I believe in my body, and I believe that it is strong.

But, when I was in the fourth grade I broke my ankle playing hockey. I speak of this because I think that what happend was pretty funny.

I went chasing the puck into the corner of the rink, and ended up twisting my ankle very, very badly - so agregiously that I ended up in the hospital for a couple of days as I needed 2 pins in my bones to put my ankle back together again. That's not the funny part.

The funny thing was what happend when I regained consciousness after the accident. Yes, I actually passed out from the pain, and when I came to minutes later there were three or four adults hovered over me, including one of the refs. I distinctly remember him saying, "don't move it too much or you'll fuck it up..."

Think how reassuring that is to a 10 year old, or however old I was at the time. I'm guessing it looked pretty bad.

The part of this story that I recall with the most distaste is after I was carried off the rink on a stetcher, and in the dressing room with my grandparents and some other parents and all my grandmother wanted me to do was try to walk on my ankle. Seriously! I knew then that something heinous was wrong with me, and yet she wouldn't shut up until I complied with her wish...."walk on it and see how it feels..." Fuck that! I knew, before putting pressure on it, how it would feel. It was going to bloody well hurt. But she wouldn't let well enough alone, so I did, and damn right it hurt. I remember that too. I dont' remember the pain, exactly, but I remember that it fucking hurt. A lot.

This story is actually a good analogy for my childhood.

Don't get me wrong, I know that life is full of pain, and that to avoid pain is stupid and you can't grow through avoidance. But, when you are already in pain, and you know that standing on one leg, when your ankle is severly fucked up, will only cause excrutiating pain, then what's the point? I'm OK with pain, I've taken and am taking a lot of pain in my life, but picking at a wound doesn't make it heal any faster. Faith in the self, in your body and knowledge of your pain does.

I love my grandparents, and my grandmother - but fuck them for making me stand on my broken ankle.