The Hole in My Heart :: Personal Narratives Health Medical Essays

The Hole in My Heart When I was younger, I loved to play sports. Basketball was my favorite and I was always one of the best on the team. I could jump high to get rebounds, I could use my long arms to steal many balls, I had a great shot and I did it all with grace. It was a beautiful thing and probably the only time I ever felt completely included in a group of people. Even though I was a valuable asset to the teams I played on, I was never the best. I missed many practices because I was too tired to play. I missed some games because I was sick, and I could never run as long or hard as any one else. My parents, teachers and friends reduced me to a lazy hypochondriac and by the power of suggestion, I almost believed it. At the end of the eighth grade, I could not do it anymore. I needed to sleep all afternoon, and sharp pains stabbed my legs with every step I took. Furthermore, I had just realized that I was a lesbian and the stress was causing me to be excessively distracted. How could I have existed wi th something so powerful living in my body for so long and not know it until now? I guess society’s expectations had blinded me. Of course, hindsight is always 20/20; as I reexamined my life as of that far, I could see that it had always been with me. So with the fatigue, stress, pain and illness I called it quits just a few games before the end of the season. During the next few years, I slowly limped around school, and slept through many hours of the day. I had already finished growing, so it made no sense that I slept as much as I did. I already knew why I limped; I have an extra spine bone that puts pressure on my sciatic nerve causing the sharp pains in my lower body, but there was a new unexplained weakness in my hips. It was not until a trip to Las Vegas when I definitely knew there was something wrong. I was eating dinner with my mom and sister when the skin on my wrists turned puffy and I had a strange feeling in my body and my mouth like what it feels like to touch a cotton ball with wet hands.