My third and probably the most painful injury I ever got in college happened after my spring semester ended. And this happened before my nursing exam results came in. So I was running on a lot of nervous energy. Classes had just ended, and I was ready to sit on my bed. I turned my body a little to the right. That’s all. Sat down. And then that’s when it happened. I heard a loud POP. 

I thought it was so loud and just in that quick instant, this pain spread. The way I would describe it to anyone is to imagine having a water bottle. And when you want to open it, you twist and hear a CRACK, but again, instead of a crack, I heard and felt a pop. 

Sharp and immediate all over my knee. I crouched over and tried to straighten it. I couldn’t. Oh god. It hurt just to move it forward, backward, or to the side. Anything. It hurt like hell. I tried to stand immediately, maybe it was me. Maybe I was just panicking. When I tried to stand, my knee immediately got stuck at 90 degrees. That’s when my panic sent me into pure “IM SCREWED”. 

I got my sibling to tell my mom, who demanded that my dad massage my leg. But by massage, he proceeded to pull my leg. Towards my chest, straight, towards my chest, straight. I cried. The pain was so bad I begged him to stop. I felt like it was going to snap. 

Both my parents warned me to keep it straight as much as I could to delay any more damage. And amid the advice, I was scolded even more for how I could have caused this damage. I told them I just sat a bit funny and it popped, but in the end, I am to blame for not being aware of how I move. 

That night I didn’t stay in my bed. I moved to a small couch in my room. I tried to relax and pulled my rolling chair to help the pain. But no matter what position I moved into, the pain wasn’t getting any better. It just kept getting worse. I slept for maybe an hour before waking up to shooting pain going through my leg again. This time, when I tried to just stand up, I couldn’t. My leg was now fully stuck. I couldn’t even move it in any direction, not even a little. I looked around and saw the furniture near my couch. 

So with as much upper strength as I had, I grabbed onto the corner and pulled. I was slouching, but I hopped as much as I could on my one good leg. Slowly, I moved, but I held onto the door frames, the wall, anything I could. I just made my way slowly to my mom’s room. Even a little stop made me cry a little more because the pain was so bad. But after a long time, I made it to my mom’s room. 

I felt like a little kid telling their mom, ” I threw up. When I got to her, she woke up to the sound of the door opening. I just broke down and told her the pain was unbearable. I hoped to her bed, and the pain felt a bit better lying on my back. My leg gets some comfort. 

And there I just knocked out. The next morning, the pain had gotten worse. I couldn’t even roll out of bed. Every small movement was and felt impossible. Going to the bathroom was impossible. 

To then my hopping to the kitchen, I was informed I was going to the E.R. Luckily, we had a wheelchair and crutches in our house. From what injury? Who knows. From who. We don’t know. Which I did grab the crutches from the night before. You might ask why I didn’t use the crutches. Well, I just forgot haha. 

When we got to the E.R., I felt so awkward. I’ve never been a patient in the E.R I felt so bad they pushed me around. Being wheeled from one room to another, I just felt like I was faking it. 

I had to take scans, and I remember the tech telling me to put my leg as straight as possible. Hurt like hell, but I didn’t want to be a rude, annoying patient. That was like, “Oh, I can’t,” and I did as much as I could, but I will never do it again. 

I was told by the doctor I had tore i guess, some ligament, and just like that, I was told to wear a brace, crutches, and pain meds for about a month and a half or so to try to fix it. 

While he was putting on my brace, he asked what I was studying. I had told him I was trying to become a nursing student, and he told me I’d make a good one someday. 

I didn’t know how to feel about it, but it gave me some assurance. 

After the hospital, we got boba and went home. Yet somehow I still had to do my chores. I was in charge of a couple, but the one that happened right after I got home and ate dinner was cleaning the table and sweeping the kitchen. I remember standing there, one foot on my crutches and holding a plate. Hopping from the table to the sink slowly and carefully. 

It wasn’t funny then; actually, it was nagering, but looking back, I must have looked so ridiculous with one foot up, crutches, and 100% deshelved, with a plate in my hand.

I was like that for a month. Hopping on one foot. Showering on one foot. Getting dressed on one foot. Living on one foot. Then slowly my leg started straightening. Little by little. I remember the first time I put my weight on it. I was in the kitchen, and I took a step and slowly but carefully i was able to sort of walk. But I did it. And it felt very freeing. 

I went from crutches to a cane to walking again. 

It wasn’t easy, but I had to learn to trust my body, and even after I healed, I had this fear of my knee. Walking outside felt risky. Going up and down stairs was new to me. Terrifying not to redo my mistake. Feeling like I could break it at any moment. 

And the truth is, even now, years later, it still hurts. Sometimes I feel a sharp pain, and I hear cracking from that knee. This pain continues to bother me, and it reminds me of the one mistake I made. 

I am lucky it wasn’t worse; it could’ve been. But I am also here to remind you: please be careful with how you sit, because you could end up like me.