I haven’t been much of a writer these past three weeks.
I keep thinking, “There will be time for writing when you are older. Seize the opportunity now to surf and kiteboard as much as possible while your body is relatively healthy and strong. One day, perhaps sooner than you want to believe, you won’t have the stamina and strength to surf for several hours in one day. Then you’ll have all the time in the world to write.”
Perhaps this is short-sighted and selfish. Perhaps it’s avoidance behavior or a rationalization. Whatever it is, it’s keeping me surfing. Surfing and enjoying life so much (aka partying with friends) that I found myself several days ago so exhausted that my body felt like a lead weight I was lugging around. It took concentrated effort to keep moving and get the things done I needed to get done around the house before I left the country (re-potting of two large plants, organizing and packing my bags).
But I’ll have plenty of opportunity to rest up now. A few days ago I flew North to eastern Canada, to the place I will always call home no matter how long it’s been since I’ve lived there, Vankleek Hill, Ontario. I slept on the plane despite the good reading material I had along with me (The Sun magazine). I slept hard, so hard that I didn’t even hear the attendant come by with immigration forms and dinner. I might have even drooled a little bit. Then that night I took two melatonin pills before bed in part to counteract the tiny bit of coffee ice cream I ate while I re-watched the movie Apocalypto, in part because I wanted to sleep the sleep of the dead. I had a serious sleep deficit that I needed to reverse.
Ice cream and a movie, Thai food before that – some of the small pleasures I don’t get much of in Baja, the things that make leaving my beautiful paradise just a tiny bit less painful.
While leaving induces the pain of separation, emotional pain, the truly painful thing I’m focused on right now is the physical pain of a volcano-like hole on my knee that refuses to heal. It’s been there since January when I sliced the top off my knee coming in with a kite that was inside out and dragged my knee over the top of a rock. I didn’t even feel it, it was such a clean cut. But after I got out of the water, I looked down to see watery blood dripping down my leg. Ever since then the cut has grown into a hole that keeps getting deeper and deeper every time I surf despite taking several measures to protect it. I covered it with a waterproof Band-Aid and then with a tubular piece of neoprene cut from an old wetsuit. It seemed to be working and six weeks or so ago, it looked like a new layer of skin had finally grown over the wound. Then I decided to fore-go the Band-aid I’d worn every other surf session and instead applied a layer of New Skin® liquid bandage over the new scar tissue. But I forgot to put the tube of neoprene on over it. At one point when I popped up, my left knee caught the waxed surface of the board, I felt a sharp pain as the New Skin was ripped from my knee taking the new layer of skin along with it. I was back to square one.
What I needed to do was stay out of the water, but I was unwilling to accept that increasingly obvious fact. As a result, this hole has threatened to get infected several times. It gets hot and extremely sensitive to the touch and then I clean it with hydrogen peroxide, coat it with antibacterial ointment, apply a bandage and pray. I’ve hit it square in the middle on tables and chairs, which nearly brings me to tears. Yoga and other activities that involve applying pressure to the knees are done gingerly, carefully, with most of the weight applied to the right knee.
By the time I return to Mexico I will have been out of the water for three weeks straight. For once this is a good thing. By then I pray there will be a layer of new skin in place that is thick enough and tough enough to resist the wear and tear of being dragged across the rough waxy surface of a surf board after soaking for several hours in the water. Because if it isn’t healed by then, I’ll be hard pressed to stay out of the water as the summer surf season ramps up to full speed ahead.
What about you? What is the longest you’ve had hold off doing something you love due to an injury? What’s the gnarliest injury you’ve ever had?