It was a bright, hot day in South Texas. I was attending a cheerleading clinic, with my varsity squad at the University of Texas. As one of the better jumpers on our team (for toe touches anyway), I was asked to participate in a "jump off." The winning jumper would win a medal as well as the number one slot for the cheer competition segment of the day. No biggie. We were confident in our routines and even more confident I would win the jump off, like I had since the 6th grade, at all the other clinics and camps we had attended. It was just another day in the life of an awesome cheerleader for me...no pressure.
Shortly after noon time, we warmed up. I squeezed in several practice jumps on a new "high-tech" spring board floor. My jumps that day seemed higher and prettier than ever. I was super stoked about picking my number and waiting in line to take my shot at having the winning jump. My biggest competition that day was Rene, a male jumper from one of our rival schools. Still, I knew with my background in ballet and profound flexibility, I would take it. As I approached my turn, number 12, I felt a little nervous but mostly excited. I calmed myself and found great focus on imagining the look of disappointment on Rene's face when they named him second place and crowned me the winner; I had this, the medal was mine.
I took the floor, prepped and jumped the best jump of my life. It was so awesome, I felt like it was all happening in slow motion. I felt myself gain height and reminded myself to point my toes and fist both hands...IT WAS FREAKIN' AWESOME...until I landed. As my legs came together to finish my jump the sounds I would hear next were next to disgusting. I landed on that spring board floor to the sound of crunching, popping, and ripping. The sound of the crowd's deep inspiration (of shock) came just milliseconds after...I fell all the way down to the floor. Shocked and embarrassed I attempted to get up, just to realize I couldn't. I was overcome by excruciating pain and emotion. The highlight of that moment was being carried out by one of the hottest male university cheerleaders ever. It is truly a moment I will never forget; however, number 10 would never be the same after then.
After my trip to the Emergency room, an MRI, and multiple appointments with the Orthopedist, I got the news that I had suffered a complete tear of the ACL and meniscus. My knee was mobilized and surgery was scheduled for May 28, at Edinburg Regional Hospital. I would be out of cheer season for at least six weeks. Devistated, my surgeon promised with rigorous physical therapy I would be up and jumping again in precisely that time (6 weeks), just in time for competition season.
Surgery came and went. I had a pin, a staple, and some cadavor ligament put in place to correct the damage created by the best jump of my life. Luckily, my recovery went far better than I imagined but I stuck to a strict regiment of PT, diet and exercise to keep me focused on my goal. As my surgeon promised, I was back to cheering for the last two games of the season and back to practicing daily for our upcoming competition. The remaining years of high school and cheerleading went without fail. I was back to my old self, with the exception of a scar. While my surgeon was the absolute best, in my opinion and named Surgeon of the year 3 years in a row, he was a terrible seamstress. Number 10 may be scarred and not be as pretty as her sister, the left, but she's given me many miles and countless hours of walking, biking, and exercise since having suffered prolonged abuse. She even carried and extra 52 pounds of weight with my first pregnancy, 27 for my second, and 18 for the last. Number 10 may not be pretty, but I still consider her the best! Thank you Number 10!
While this was one of the more interesting projects I have ever had to do, it too was fun. My body part, as mentioned above, was the right knee up to the pelvis (femur). I shot my photos in two parts because our man was just too tall for the camera's capabilities (my iPhone). But in the lower photo, you can see the scar to the right knee. I was intent on placing a screw in the middle of the scar to represent the actual hardware I have in my knee now, and then the picture above is just the rest of the complete product.
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