Routine liner to third

The sneeze, I tell her, the sneeze is the only thing I remember. Well, that ain't entirely true. I remember things before the sneeze. I remember Matt starting to go into his windup. And I remember things that happened after the sneeze. After I woke up. But between the sneeze and coach holding my hand? Nothing.

Was that the worst part, she asks me. Was the realization after I woke up the worst part?

No, I tell her. I also tell her I didn't know what was going on when I woke up. I tried to move my head as someone told me to stop moving my head. Thought it was Ray but turns out it was Alex, his assistant. Ray had a rare night off.

So was that bad, she asks me. Was it bad that Ray wasn't there?

Nah, I say. Hell did I care if it was Ray or Alex? I could taste the blood and I couldn't breathe through my nose. Just sucked more blood into my throat. And that's when I started kicking.

Kicking who, she asks me, her hand tight on my wrist as we cross the street.

No one, I tell her. I say I was just really writhing there. I was seeing stars the pain was so bad. Thousands of stars in a real dark sky. Then it happened.

What, she asks me. What happened? The worst part?

Not yet, I say, pulling her arm one way but giving in when she stands her ground and says we both know I should follow her and not the other way around. The next was actually the best part, I say. See, that's when Alex whispered that he was gonna give me a shot. I think he whispered because the stadium was so quiet and the cameras were all on me.

Alex was good, though. He didn't take out a big needle. Didn't need everyone to see him give me something. You gotta relax, he told me.

I said something pretty crass back to him. I didn't mean it. I just knew I couldn't relax.

Then I felt the prick on my quad. Warm relief shot down to my toes then up to my head. I could feel the towel they had on my face but I didn't feel them lifting me onto the stretcher. I couldn't see and my hearing was all like the ear equivalent of having tunnel vision.

Coach says he told me to give a thumbs up about ten times before my hand finally moved. The crowd roared, though. I'll never forget that.

Was that it, she asks. Was that the worst part for me because I knew it would be the last time I'd have the crowd cheering for me?

Now wait just a second, I say, and I pull my arm away real hard. I'll be damned if that's the last time a crowd ever cheers for me again. I may not play anymore but that don't mean I'm dead. I'm still me.

You're right, she says and gently grabs my arm again. We start to walk and I feel grass under my feet. Keep going, she says.

So they put me in an ambulance and the guy riding in the back must think I'm passed out. He tried to talk to me but I didn't answer. What the hell did I have to talk about? My career was over. I knew it. But I didn't know where my life was going. And this guy wanted to know if I was comfortable or it he should move my legs a couple inches to the left? Give me a god damned break, you know?

Anyways, I'm not answering him so he starts talking like I wasn't there. Doesn't look good, he said to the driver after taking the towel off my face. Definitely lots of broken bones.

Sucks we missed the play, the driver said. What the hell was he doing that he didn't bring his glove up? He was no gold glover, but you gotta think he's gonna bring his glove up to protect his face.

Don't worry about it, the guy in the back said. It'll be on YouTube.

And that, I say, is the worst part about this whole thing.

She asks if I'm serious as she leads me to a bench. Everything that happened, and the worst part is some EMT saying he'd be able to go online to watch me sneeze at the worst time and take a liner to the face?

No, I say with a sigh. The worst part isn't that he said that. The worst part is that even though it's there for me to watch, I'll never be able to see the play that left me blind.

why can't i walk?

Sometimes I think
there's just no time
and that's not fine
with me.

It makes me think
I have to run
to catch my
destiny.

I've quit a lot of things in my life. Let's take a look at everything I've given up, in no particular order:

• Ballet (I was four and my mom thought it was a good idea that I take this class)
  
• Tap (Same as above, but I was five)
  
• Gymnastics (I can still cartwheel)
  
• Football (I stopped growing but others didn't. It started to hurt)
  
• Wiping (There's no proof cavemen did it, so why should I?)
  
• Piano (Couldn't get the hang of crossing my thumbs)
  
• Guitar (Wasn't a superstar, didn't want to practice)
  
• Acting (Freakin' Quintavalle)
  
• Shaving (It's easier not to)

Not a bad list, eh? I'm sure there's more I'm missing, but screw you for trying to find every little thing that makes me look like a quitter. Besides, I'm trying to make amends by getting back into some things on the list. Ballet and tap are out, and the closest I'll get to gymnastics is bending down to touch my toes. I can see wiping making a comeback. Same with acting and shaving. Piano I'm not so sure about because I've started playing guitar again.

That's right. I'm picking it back up and I'm going to take you along for the ride. Admittedly, I'm not very good now. There's a distinct possibility I'm downright painful to listen to. My chord changes can be herky-jerky and my strumming can be as smooth as chopped up asphalt. But I'm practicing and I'm going to get better.

Just you wait. Oh, and as you'll see in the video below of me playing a simple chord progression, I'm also not very good in recording myself. I kind of missed the opening bar. Again, screw you for judging me.

it starts tomorrow.

July 1, 2009.

Canada Day.

The day I set my alarm an hour early so I can start to incorporate some new activities into my morning routine.

It won't be easy. I'm going to have to slog through it. But if not tomorrow, when?

grosser than gross.

"Bet you wanna go see something gross," he said.
"In a way that's the absolute most," she said.

"So the thing that will make you squirm most?" he asked.
"Yes the thing that will outshine all gross," she tasked.

"Well I don't know if you should come see," he shrugged.
"Then you'll never again play with me," she bugged.

"Oh in that case come walk there with me," he sneered.
"I can't wait till I'm able to see!" she cheered.