Player One

There are days when I feel like I’m on a team of one. The only player. No us, me and him, or her and I. Solo.

A life I once knew as a big girl, working hard, paying bills, living independently, ok with the rollercoaster ride, seems to have swirled down the drain over the past five months. I have nowhere to call hOMe. Having moved out of my house in Charleston to avoid paying rent, most of my things are in storage.

This is real. I’m not sitting here fabricating a sob story for sympathy. The story is mine and I know that others’ situations parallel mine in one way or another. That’s what makes us all human – the down and dirty, nitty gritty, hard things in life.

The reconstruction on my right leg couldn’t have gone any better. Five osteotomies later, my knee is stable and the bones are straight.

Recovery hasn’t quite been a piece of cake and, in the end, that’s ok. Nothing is ever easy when you stop and think about it. I think the most difficult part has been the out of control feelings. Going into this procedure I kept my expectations very, very low. And yet, what I expected to happen, has made a 180 degree deviation.

My insurance company has continued to be extremely unhelpful in this journey and I am forced to pay out of pocket for physical therapy right now. Gee, thank you Blue Cross Blue Shield. I’m not trying to heal or anything. Nope. Definitely can handle the stress from your idiotic hard limits and refusal to help a woman blindsided by a nearly paralyzing medical issue. It’s fine.


Here I am, player one, going as far as writing a letter to the department of insurance of South Carolina for an external review in hopes that people with a little more compassion and common sense can throw the ball into my court.

Until then, it’s a waiting game. I don’t have the money to continue paying out of pocket for physical therapy and the real rehab won’t begin until my bone solidifies and I am allowed to fully weight bear.

So, in a week, I fly up to Boston to temporarily move in with my parents. {Good thing all of my chilly weather clothes are stashed in a box in my storage unit in Charleston!}

What I leave behind is a support system… family… in Florida who undoubtedly understand better than anyone, how I feel. (As I write this, tears well in my eyes.) It is a bond that has no boundaries. We accept each other on the best and worst of days. Despite language barriers, we talk and we listen. (I will say the my Spanish has improved ten-fold since being here.)

The kids here keep me going. Born with some of the most rare orthopedic conditions, they always seem to have the biggest smiles on their faces. My nights are spent reading to mi novio, Santiago, and teaching him English or playing intense games of ‘Spot It’ or ‘Spoons’ with some of the bigger kids and even the parents. Santi’s mom, Norelys and I have heartfelt conversations in our broken English and Spanish over homemade arepas. Congregated in the big kitchen, we offer advice and love to a family whose daughter is not healing as the doctor expected. All the way from Poland, they have been here since March. Birthdays here are celebrated properly for little and big kids alike. We have Harry Potter movie nights, complete with popcorn and candy. It’s nothing close to what I imagined my life to be at 30 (almost 31) years old. And in these moments, I wouldn’t change it for the world. Never in my life have I felt such connection and understanding.

And, this isn’t forever. Still healing, I am headed back into the great big world. The past few nights I have laid awake thinking about where I am headed. Right now, the future scares me. In terms of a career, I feel like I am going nowhere. Despite many attempts at seeking a temporary remote job online, nothing has come to fruition. Yoga asana has not been a fluid part of my life for over 6 months. In terms of teaching a class, I feel inept. It’s scary to feel this lost.

Here I stand at the foul line continuing to take shots. Air ball. Around the rim and out. Off the back board… my swish will come. Until then, I will continue to stand here, team of one, and shoot my heart out. In the end, it’s always only going to be me; the one in complete control of her life, no matter what. It’s lonely. AND I know that I am never alone.

It doesn’t matter how long your legs are, you can only take one step at a time. Baby steps.

Let’s do this.



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