The Gymnast

Part 15

"Ana, what happened?" my mom asks. She sounds so worried.

"I rolled my ankle," I reply, trying to reassure her.

"I'm coming to pick you up," she says.

I nod, then realize I'm on the phone. "Yeah, I don't think I can do much."

"Okay. Bye, I'll see you soon."

"Bye Mom," I say and hang up the phone.

Brody comes over to me holding athletic tape. "I'm going to tape your ankle with the ice pack around it," he explains and gets started. The pain has gotten a lot worse; it hurts so much that when ever Brody lifts my foot to roll the tape underneath my ankle, pain shoots through my ankle. Every slight movement is like a knife in my ankle.

By the times he is finished, I am nearly in tears from the pain. He pats my back. "Why are you always hurting yourself?" he asks, teasing me.

I shrug. "I guess I just really like the ice."

Brody laughs as he walks away to help another girl on bars. I sit there for a while and start crying. My ankle hurts more than anything I have ever felt, even when I don't move it. I force myself to stop crying. I try to convince myself that this could be just another injury, but deep down inside, I know that this is bad.

About 10 minutes later, my mom arrives. She hurries inside the gym and comes to give me a hug. "How are you?" she asks.

"I've been better."

Brody walks over and explains what happened. "You can take her to the hospital if you want, or you can wait until tomorrow," he says.

"What do you think Ana?" my mom asks.

I shrug. There is suddenly a lump in my throat, and I'm scared I'll start crying again if I try to talk.

"Okay, well I'll carry her to the car and you can decide," Brody says.

Before I'm taken away, everyone comes over to hug me again. I smile and lie, telling them that I'll be competing at the meet this weekend. Once I'm in the car, Brody advises my to put my foot on the dashboard. 

"It's not the safest thing to do, but your ankle will swell up a lot if you don't," Brody says.

I nod and do as he says.

"Feel better sweetie. Let me know how it is," he says, looking at me with sad eyes.

"I will," I say. "Bye, and thank you."

"You're welcome," he says and shuts the door for me.

My mom decides that we should go to the hospital, and I agree. The hospital is about 15 minutes away, and I cry on and off the whole times. The pain is overwhelming, and I'm tired, so the tears just come and go without my control. When we reach the hospital, they have to get me a wheelchair because I can't walk. 

I am wheeled into the hospital and into a room. My mom helps me into a bed and I sit waiting for the doctor. My mom pulls up videos of Worlds from this year on her phone, which is an international gymnastics meet which the best gymnast in the world compete in. We watch those videos together on my bed until the doctor comes.