My Comfort in Affliction

I remember that day like it was yesterday. It is a warm Sunday afternoon on the large grass field known as Hospital Point at the Academy. The end of the game is drawing near, and I do what I did the whole game in my ignorance of the position I am playing: run after whoever has the ball and tackle her.

The woman is huge, at least 250 pounds. I pull all my strength together and lunge at her, clinging onto her waist with my lanky arms. She stumbles several steps until she finally topples firmly to the dirt. The crowd turns their eyes to me, a five-feet-ten, 135-pound girl who managed to bring down someone almost twice her size. I slowly begin to stand up and am still bent over the woman when she springs her weight off the ground. Two hundred and fifty pounds of force slam upward into the bottom right side of my chin. My left jaw joint explodes as the bones slam together. A sharp pain tears through my joint into my mouth. I shake my head in agony and figure that my jaw has simply popped out of place and will go back with a little help. I lightly push my chin back and forth, trying to pop my jaw back into place, but the jolting increases the pain like lightning through my joint. I wipe the feelings from my head and run back to my position to finish the game. I tell no one of my injury and pray that the pain will go away.

My alarm clock beeps unmercifully, letting me know it is six o’clock on Monday morning. I slam my hand onto the snooze button and crack my mouth to let out a yawn. The pain in my left jaw joint squeezes my mouth closed, suppressing my diminutive yawn attempt.

Well, it’s only been one night; it will start getting better in a couple days, I tell myself.

I grab my normal cup of Special K with strawberries at breakfast and fill the bowl with milk. I smash the crunchy flakes into the milk with my spoon and look at them with wonder. I rub the muscles in my jaw and stubbornly struggle to pry my mouth open to no avail. I can’t even fit the spoon between my clenched teeth.