Usually when you lay on your back, both feet are pointing straight up. As William laid on the gym floor groaning in pain, his left foot was pointing up and his right foot was laying on its side pointing right. His doc said this is usually a career-ender, and that there was nothing he could have done to make the injury worse—broken bones, dislocated joints, torn ligaments, and tendons.
William realized it was serious when the ashen-faced paramedics told him that anytime they see an injury that makes THEM feel nauseated, they know it is time to give the patient morphine. After pumping him with morphine they threw him in the ambulance and headed to the ER.
He rolled out of surgery the next morning with all kinds of hardware in his leg—metal pins, plates, and screws. Now he will beep every time he goes through airport security and will be treated like a terrorist.
It was Tuesday night, last week. I was in Knoxville with James and Jonathan at a tennis tournament. Rather than watch his brothers play in a tournament, William decided to stay in Nashville and play basketball with some friends. Those who know my oldest son know that he only has one gear—full speed ahead. William dove for a ball that was going out of bounds and landed on his foot, in the wrong way. Wrong way, that is the understatement of the year.
Four months in a cast, then rehab. Tennis again? Long shot.
How is William? Bored and still in pain. He is not really the sit-around-and-watch-hours-of-TV kind of guy. He now has a pile of books to read. Pray for him. Thanks.
