“That’s not my name,”
“That’s not my name,”
“My name is Amanda.”
As my eyes adjusted to the harsh lighting, the sterile smell of the hospital began to fill my senses. In the twilight of awakening, I heard a recovery nurse calling out to a near-by patient, and I presumed they were speaking to me. My attempt to sit up from the hospital bed resulted in a sharp pain that shot through the entirety of my body. The anxiety began to build, and my instincts made me search frantically for answers. Not long after, a nurse came over to push me to my room where I saw my parents and for the first time I was able to clearly see the bandages that completely covered my right arm.
While lying in my bed, aching pains encompassed every crevice of my body. My right hand tingled as though small needles were dancing atop my fingertips. Bulky bandages were wrapped methodically around my arm, avoiding all the stitches that held together my elbow. The joints in my elbow had begun to diminish from years of being a competitive gymnast and surgery was a necessity if I wanted to continue to compete. Over the course of the next week, my energy level was completely depleted and the coming weeks offered no promise of reprieve.
  I arrived at physical therapy for the first time and the fear of what lay ahead encompassed my every thought. In a specific exercise, my right hand held a weight that was attached to a daunting machine. As I bent my arm an insignificant amount, the weight moved closer and an unbearable pain filled my body and frustration filled my mind. I repeated this exercise several times during this appointment as well as in the coming months, ultimately decreasing the tension between the intimidating weight and my fragile elbow. Eventually, I gained the strength and flexibility to not only just use my elbow, but to trust it as well. The time and effort I put into rehabilitation granted me the opportunity to participate in the sport I love once more.
  Due to physical therapy and gaining movement in my elbow, I was able begin gymnastics. Each day was a struggle filled with fear, frustration, and many tears. In the beginning, I would mount onto the bar to merely hold my own weight and my elbow would quiver. One swing, two swings, and before I could regain my stability, I was off the bar. Landing on a mat, and peering up, I thought to myself that the bar had won once more and my elbow was hindering my abilities. Each skill, event, and competition tested my mental and physical toughness, but in a way in which I was reminded of the love I had for gymnastics because I had a full understanding of the level of determination and perseverance needed to come back from a severe injury and be a successful competitor.
The vulnerability I experienced through my elbow injury blossomed into a new found inner strength as well as a fresh perspective regarding the sport of gymnastics. Although surgery and the physical rehabilitation were mentally and physically taxing, it was a transformative lesson. The personal growth and mindset reconstruction I went through left me tempered for whatever the future has in store. Learning that the experiences that require the most effort and personal sacrifice are the ones that give life the most meaning and grant the most happiness, is something for which I am truly grateful and will carry forward for the rest of my life.