Find my way back..

With a lot of task at hand, I've decided to do the one thing that I shouldn't be doing...bitch about them all.

The past couple of weeks have indeed been a whirl. Thanks to my injury, surgery and recovery, I have a lot of catching up to do. Knowing how much I procrastinate, the workload just keeps piling up. Besides academics, rugby stuff have been keeping occupied too. The biggest casualty in all of this is my sleep. Well, I guess heavy doses of painkillers during the two weeks plus off of school has somewhat accumulate the amount of sleep I need to sustain myself. Then again, it could have been that I was paying back the sleep debt that I owed. What am I saying here?

Good news is that the knee has been getting better. So far, I have been recovering at miraculous speed. So miraculous that it's ridiculously impossible. I was off the crutches by 2 weeks and off my braces by the 4th week. Hell, I was able to ride my bike again by the third week when my physio-friend told me that it'll take me at least 2 months before I could ride again.

But like all things, I guess the injury was meant to happen for a reason. Firstly, my mom was happy that I was finally staying at home a lot more than I usually do. By usually do it means that I'd only come home at night after a full day at school and leave early in the morning. It seems like I am treating the home more like a hotel than anything else. Although my mom has never actually said that, I could somehow sense it. But yeah, it was the first time I was really at home. So when I actually got off the crutches, I could somehow sense some disappointment from her. It's really just too bad that my house isn't the most conducive place to get any work done. Guess, that's one more reason to get a room in hall for next semester.

But on the bright side (supposedly), I am back to being able to earn some mullahs for myself. Coaching certainly needs me to be physically-abled. Although I am not fully there yet, being able to walk is enough for now. 2 more months before I am able to do any running. 1 more month to swimming. 5 more months for me be get back onto the pitch. My pair of Nikes are currently rotting away in some obscure part of the house. Don't worry baby, in 5 more months, you and me, we're going to be tearing up the pitch once more. I can still remember the date that I last wore my pair of Nikes- 29th of January 2011. That's the fateful day which I tore my ACL. The physio was so insistent that I didn't since I didn't cry like what most people. Getting dished out with punches and kicks since the age of 9 has probably increased my tolerance for pain at an insanely high level. Army training chipped in abit to. So yeah, I didn't cry...but that's because my whole leg numbed out immediately afterwards.

The best part of it all, when I came back for my first post-op physiotherapy, I was told that I didn't look as though I actually underwent surgery since I look so fresh. For a moment there, it hit me that they could have just knocked me out, pretend to do surgery on me before I woke up and all. That's a load of crap but I guess that was the reaction that I had since my physio commented on how fresh I look. Then again, it could have been because I just showered not too long ago.

8 more months before I can really get back on my own feet and doing what I love the most- Rugby. Shall patiently (as much as I possibly can) get there.