Do not go gentle into that good night--Chloe

“Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, Ra- POP!” This was the sound that suddenly interrupted the poem blasting over the large speakers. I fall to the ground, dazed, wondering why I was down there and why I was no longer dancing. I try to stand up and am greeted by a sharp pain coming from my right leg, I examine my knee and find that it is no longer in its socket. I attempt to stand again which causes my kneecap to shift back into place with another sickening “pop!” This action ushers in a fresh wave of pain and brings me back to my senses. Like a wounded animal I sat there, helpless, clutching my knee as my teammates continued to dance, unaware of my situation. I look stage left and my dance teacher, who saw the pain and panic clearly written all over my face, frantically beckons me towards her while mouthing “CRAWL!” So I did. I dragged my body with shaky arms, slowly but surely off stage all whilst hearing ”Do not go gentle into that good night..” playing faintly in the background.
That was the night of April 1st, 2017, a Saturday. My team and I were there for the weekend to compete and take dance workshops in a hotel in Irvine. The morning following the incident, I felt no pain in my knee after a night of rest, ice and overwhelming concern from my teacher and teammates. It was Sunday and I was toted around from class to class on various people’s backs, prohibited from walking or dancing whatsoever. Everyone was fussing over me while I remained calm, holding onto the belief I was completely fine. Never have I been more wrong. I remember the moment the doctor presented me with an x-ray, and with a sympathetic expression said, “You have torn your patellofemoral ligament and fractured your knee cap.” Next thing I knew, my entire right leg was encased in a locked brace, I was handed a pair of crutches and was told I would need them for the next three months or so. He told me I would not be able to dance for the rest of the year and was unsure of when I would be able to again. I looked down in a state of shock as he droned on what my treatment plan was. This meant I would not dance alongside my departing senior teammates for the last time, would not perform in the biggest and final show of the year, would not be able to dance period. The following months consisted of numerous orthopedic appointments, two surgeries, and a lot of pain. It is amazing how much we take for granted and this includes working knees, functional legs. During this time I sank into a period of depression. I was forced to sleep downstairs because it was difficult and tiresome to travel up and down the stairs. I had to rely heavily on my mom to perform daily tasks I was now no longer able to do. I couldn’t sleep because every time I would start to drift off, a throb of pain would wake me. Unable to bend my knee, I felt as if my entire right leg was a stiff log I was forced to haul alongside me everywhere I went. I went to school not paying attention, forced to crutch across campus in a timely fashion which caused me to sweat, my arms to ache, and my armpits to chafe. I sat in the back of the dance room, watching my fellow dancers turn and leap gracefully across the floor. I lost motivation to do anything, I was unable to do what I loved, to dance and feel free from the pressures and stress that was high school. It was not until I met the most positive people I have ever encountered taught me that despite everything I was still blessed, I was alive and loved. With this new mindset, I plowed my way through two surgeries and nine months of physical therapy. It has been about a year

since the incident has occurred and I am reminded of that moment everyday with four ugly scars and a weak knee. However, I am dancing again and I am getting stronger as the days progress. Although my knee will never be how it was before and I experience pain almost every time I dance, this will not prevent me from doing what I love and I will continue to stay positive in everything I do. I have learned so much from this experience especially that I can not listen to the poem, “Do not go gentle in that good night,” without hearing that sickening pop in the back of my mind.