Que Sera Sera
Well, this past Saturday, I had that emergency.
I should mention that she’s ranked eight levels above my level.
In any case, she and I now run around in the same circle of friends so we’ve hung around socially before. But we’ve only ever met on the mat maaaybeee 20 times, tops?
Probably more about 10 times. And one time was that neck-crank time.
She’s actually a very sweet
girl woman that’s now an instructor. But on the mat, something turns off in her head and she just gets super aggro.
Normally, the more experienced people are more chill but with her, I have to stay on my toes just to not get killed.
Anywho, this past Saturday, she gets my arm in what’s called an armbar and I immediately hear: POP-POP in my elbow and am blinded with pain.
The whole thing took less than one second; the Gymgirl was watching and she said it happened insanely fast.
The Gymgirl had her own injury not that long ago and she talked to me as I left the mat.
Me: (hopefully) Maybe it’s not so bad, it doesn’t hurt all that much right now.
Gymgirl: It’s cause you’re fulla adrenaline. When it wears off, then you’ll know how you really feel.
Well, the Gymgirl knew what she was talking about.
Right around Columbus Circle, I almost doubled over in pain. Made it home and immediately popped one of those pills I was saving up.
Both the woman and the coach wrote me that night and the day after to check in on me, which I appreciated.
She’s genuinely remorseful, as is the coach. Now usually, I’d just say que sera sera and just move on with my life.
But I’m a (single) dad now and I can’t afford to go to the ER for what is, essentially, a hobby.
Me: I think she’s is a bit too wild for me to roll with. So, I feel – for my own safety – that I have to ask that I never roll with her again.
Coach: That’s understandable. I’ll keep you two away from rolling. I’m sorry again.
Me: Thanks. I appreciate it. I’ll be fine. I don’t think anything is broken. Also, painkillers are lovely.
On that note, I gotta say that I understand why people can get addicted to painkillers.
Just taking care of the boy for the past 24 hours has been ridic difficult.
Me: (picking up son from bath and hurting arm (again)) @#$@#$@#!!!!
Son: (laughing) @#$@#$@#!
Me: No! Fiddlesticks! Say, oh, fiddlesticks!
Me: (sighing, wincing) This is not good at all. I should take up something like needlepoint.
As an aside, I have to say that I’m still getting used to the stark differences between my current and old coach.
When I tore my ACL and got neck-cranked, my old coach blamed me for both of them.
I remember lying on the mat in a haze – the same mat that I was lying on this past weekend, actually – with a completely torn ACL and my coach was yelling at me, “Why didn’t you relax!? You’re fine. If you tore your ACL, you’d know it.”
And with the neck-crank he simply said that I shouldn’t have let her touch my neck.
The more distance I have from that relationship, the more I realize how toxic it all was.
Oh well, que sera sera…
Location: my white drawer, rationing my last two painkillers and rotating my ice packs
Music: Now I have children of my own
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