Educational Background

As my knee exploded, I thought life had flushed down the toilet.

I had paid blood dues before.
Broken wrist back in Rochester.
Fractured jaw in Brickell.
Snapped ankle in the Grove.

I guess the Grove hadn’t finished collecting its tab.
I saw my right leg and cringed.
My knee was bent ninety degrees sideways towards my other leg.
I tried to push it back where it was supposed to be.
It was stuck bent.

Beads of sweat oozed from my pores and dropped into a crack in the black asphalt.
Unable to straighten my leg, I crawled.
Haran picked up my board. I clawed to the truck.
I climbed into the passenger side. The freshly blown-out ACL and torn meniscus sent me someplace where all you feel is injury.

The image kept replaying.
Landing only to see my knee buckle
It played over and over.
Main Highway didn’t give a fuck.
Banyan roots made bumps in the road. I could smell Poinciana berries as we drove.
We rounded the corner onto Douglas Rd.

Haran helped me get inside and onto the couch.
What I’d done this time was damage,
It kept playing. On a loop.

I didn’t give a fuck.
I needed to worry about walking.

After a few days I could limp.
If I straightened my leg, it buckled.
If I bent my knee, it got stuck.
When I unbent my knee, it grinded then snapped.

I was lucky to still be covered under my mom’s health plan.
Replaced my ACL with an Achilles tendon from a cadaver.
Allograft. I puked Sour Patch Kids on my surgeon, but he was cool about it.

“If you do the rehab correctly, your knee’ll be stronger after the injury than before it,” Dr. Blythe said.