Twist of Fate

"I'm sorry." the doctor says, looking at me apologetically.

I bite my lip, willing the tears in my eyes not to spill over. The room seems to spin before my eyes as his precious words echoed in my brain. 'You will never be able to pointe dance again.' My mom squeezes my hand. I hear her talking to the doctor. Medicine. Physical therapy. Rest. They stop talking and the doctor leaves the room, giving me one last sad smile.

I stand up off the examining table. I take a few wobbly, uncertain steps. The big grey boot that goes up to just under my knee feels foreign and uncomfortable. We walk out to the car. Step clunk. Step clunk. Step clunk. My boot is so much higher than the sandal on my other foot.

As soon as we get home, I shut myself in the room. I look around. Everywhere I look I see ballet. Ballet posters. Trophies. Old pointe shoes. The tears finally break free. I tear down my posters, and throw them along with my trophies and old dance shoes under my bed. My room is now bare and sad looking. I flop down on my stomach, remembering when this whole nightmare began.

I guess it all started in 5th grade. When I started pointe dancing for the first time. I remember my joy of going up on the box for the first time, holding on tightly to the barre. Wobbling uncertainly. Happy, naive. Neither I nor my ballet teacher knew that pointe dancing was bad, so bad for developing bones.

I first felt the pain this August. It is now March. This has made my 8th grade year so hellish. It was after an extremely challenging barre warmup, followed by difficult across the floors. My ankle hurt so bad. And what did I do? I stupidly ignored it. I wore my ankle brace all the time, thinking that pain was normal.

The pain got worse. And my dancing was too. I would come home and cry secretly in my room. My mom finally made me go to the doctor around November. Both the x-ray and MRI showed nothing, so I continued dancing. During a performance in December, the pain was so bad, that I was performing through the tears. 3 months later, and several misdiagnosises later, I finally have a diagnosis. There is a tendon that supports my ankle that is weak, and torn.

I can never pointe dance again. And I am stuck in a boot for at least 6 weeks.