The Day Hockey Stood Still, Essay Example

The world changed forever when I broke my arm in a hockey game, back in my 10^th grade days. That is of course something of an overstatement; nonetheless, this single accident had impacts on me I could not have foreseen and that stay with me today.

A teenager is a different breed, as is commonly known, and one typically marked by an acceptable arrogance. We think we are invincible because nothing has yet occurred to us to make us think otherwise, and a valued high school hockey play has more than his share of ordinary, youthful arrogance. I know I did.

It is strange, though, how a hospital visit changes perspectives, particularly when you are the reason for the visit. In that confused period of several hours, I was startled by more than one item. To begin with, seeing people with broken arms in movies or even on the street does not fully prepare you for how badly they actually hurt. Even as you are dizzy and in danger of passing out from the pain, you also feel an odd treachery occurring within yourself; this body you have had no reason to not completely rely upon can shatter, and it just did. In pain, then, you are as well given an additional and unwelcome awareness of your own vulnerability.

Then comes the actual hospital experience and a further, and fairly substantial, loss to whatever arrogance you may have carried in with you. There you are suddenly made to see how truly ordinary you are, because you are in a place where only severe illness or accident sets you apart. I was treated very well at the hospital and my arm was promptly attended to, but I still recall how leveling the experience was. I could not help but observe that others coming into this emergency area were facing problems that made my own, painful arm something of a joke. I felt both extremely fortunate and, somehow, a little ashamed of needing any attention in this place where critical matters were happening all the time.

Home and healing, another issue presented itself, one I also had not anticipated. My injury had direct consequences on the hockey team, of course. I was by no means the only reason the team did well, but I learned, through friends and hearsay, how my condition was proving to be a setback for them. This gave me a sense of guilt I knew even then to be inappropriate. Nobody blamed me; in fact, there was clearly a form of remorse expressed by the school itself for having enabled my accident to happen. My own feelings, though, overwhelmed that awareness to me. I both knew I was the victim of a random accident and still felt somehow responsible for not being able to do what was expected of me.

In looking back, however, I realize there was an ironic benefit to these issues I was dealing with as I recovered. If I had learned that I was vulnerable, my family and friends had this fact brought home to them as well, and I detected a kindness and care that went beyond my recuperation needs. Also, and more directly, my accident spurred a greater attention to safety practices in the games held from that point on. Nothing drastic was done, but it became clear, when I was able to resume play, that unnecessarily violent activity was not ever to be tolerated.

The entire experience of breaking my arm at that point in my life brought a variety of concerns to my attention, both of a self-centered nature and of the greater world around me. I saw that I could be hurt, a potential young boys don’t conceive of until it happens, and I saw as well that nothing happens in an isolated way. From the extra care I required at home while my arm was in a cast, to the disruption to my team and the subsequently more strict observance of safety protocols, that one broken arm of mine opened my eyes to the interconnected elements of life as we live it every day.