My Story: Hannah

Regret is a funny thing. Ironically, decisions about long-term health are not always easy. In high school, my athletic journey took a striking turn. An athletic trainer once turned to me and said, “What will you regret more? Having played, or not having played?” For me, quitting my sport was never an option. I subsequently learned the difference between manageable pain and potentially dangerous pain. I have spent the last 8 years perpetually reestablishing myself as a soccer player with a body that’s limited by injury.

I tore my right knee’s anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) for the first time when I was 15. During the first spring practice of the season, I jumped up to win an airball, and as I landed my knee snapped. The next thing I knew, I was being carried by two of the team’s Soccer Dads’ to the car where my father was waiting to drive me to the Emergency Room. Later, I learned that this meant I would be out of commission the summer before my junior year of high school and for most of my junior year itself. So, I put a lot of pressure into rehabbing well and quickly, in an effort to still get recruited.

Here’s some context behind ACL surgery: First, the ACL is the ligament that runs through the center of your knee. Orthopedic surgery to repair this tear involves taking a new strip of the ligament, for instance from your own patella or hamstring, or a cadaver tendon, and replacing the tear by screwing that new piece of ligament into the knee joint. The new ligament has to regrow into the knee while the muscles around the knee have to be re-established and strengthened. Lastly, balance, stability, and knee function, in general, have to be retaught to the body. The standard rehab timeline from this surgery is 9 months.

During my first bout with this process, I felt like my body became a foreign object. As an athletic teenager, you tend to operate as if your body is invincible. After this surgery, everything that I knew about my body was flipped on its head. In the process of reteaching myself how to walk up and downstairs, I became estranged from my peers. Undergoing this process at 15, forced me to look beyond high school. Instead, I focused my time and attention on the longevity of my athletic career. So, I reacted as I had done with other injuries: I rehabbed. Physical therapy became my life, I spent my lunch breaks in high school icing my knee, and I went to the gym every day after school for physical therapy. I felt like no one understood what I was dealing with, physically or mentally, so I just socially checked out. I dedicated myself to following the recommended best-scenario rehab timeline. I started running again around the 4-month mark and was able to participate, non-contact, in my team’s practices after 6 months. Then, the following summer, I scheduled myself for 8 back-to-back recruitment camps. In hindsight, and considering repetitive stress injury catalysts, this was not the smartest decision. But I wanted nothing more than to play college soccer.

As an athlete in my generation, there’s an enormous amount of pressure to push your body to its limits. Moreover, you feel forced to pick a single sport and become the best player that you can possibly be at the highest level that you can achieve. Being an athlete for athlete’s sake, or enjoying a variety of activity, has become a foreign concept to the landscape of youth athletics. And, I think, sometimes, we forget why we fell in love with the sport. I fell in love with soccer because it makes me happy. I’m safe out on the field and I feel of value to my team. It was never just the competition for me, I really love playing. There’s nothing like sweat drying on your cheek and a focus towards this collective outcome. As a woman, as a female athlete, I have never felt more empowered than when I am playing my sport.

The empowerment and strength that I felt after rehabbing from the first ACL surgery did not last long. I tore my right knee’s ACL, again, on the first day of the last recruitment camp that summer between my junior and senior year of high school. I knew, instantly, when it happened. The camp called my Dad, he picked me up, and I fell apart sobbing upon his arrival. This event offset my entire athletic trajectory. I had dedicated the last year to return to soccer, just to do it all over again. That compounded physical defeat certainly left a mark. I adjusted my optimistic perspective on life, in general, towards a more realistic outlook. As I rehabbed from this second ACL surgery at 17, I had to redefine myself as a player. In this process, I stopped showing my obsession and care for my sport externally because it hurt too much. I’m still learning how to overcome the disappointment in myself and with my body. Dismantling the disappointment in my physical failure has likely been the most difficult hurdle in my rehab process.

Ultimately, I chose to play Division III soccer. I attended Carleton College among the cow fields of Minnesota. I didn’t play much my first year because I was rehabbing from my second surgery, and I just wasn’t in shape or conditioned for college-level competition. Quite frankly, after my second surgery, I never became a soccer player that I was proud of again. Then, my sophomore year, in the second to last game of the season, I tore my left ACL. When I felt my knee pop, I proceeded to scream, “NO!”, over and over, until I saw my coach staring down. She asked if I thought I had torn my ACL. Of course, I knew I did, but I was in a state of utter disbelief.

I still carry that disbelief with me. I just wanted to play soccer, and I still do. But, unfortunately, I can’t. And that was my decision. My mom wanted me to stop playing after my first surgery, and she really wanted me to stop playing after my second. It’s not easy watching your child wake up from surgery with negative reactions to anesthesia over and over again. But I’m stubborn and I love soccer. Long story short, when I was rehabbing after my third ACL surgery, I tore my meniscus in that left knee, and I had to get a meniscectomy. A meniscectomy is another orthopedic surgery where the surgeon cuts out the torn part of the meniscus because the tear is too severe to attempt to repair with stitches. So, the patient is left with less meniscus, causing the knee to be more susceptible to further meniscal damages. I, then, sat on the bench for my junior college season. I decided to play, or have one last final round, for my senior season. During my senior season, I tore my meniscus in my left knee further; but I finished out the season. I, then, waited until after college graduation to have my fifth knee surgery, another meniscectomy.

All of my knee injuries were non-contact, caused by my own body motion and weight. I am terrified of my own body and how it’s capable of destroying itself, even though it has the ability to recover. In college, my mom once commented, “Hannah, it’s impressive, the amount of pain that you are able to inflict onto yourself.” But I don’t know that I ever thought of it that way. Honestly, I carry my scars with pride. A stupid unwavering pride because running is therapy to me, but that does not mean it’s not painful. Acknowledging the existence of that pain, which is both physical and mental, does not make you weak. It also does not make you any less of an athlete, in many ways I think those experiences, and carrying those scars, actually, make you more of one. I do not regret the decision to play through my injuries, but I also would not wish it on anyone. I closed myself off to almost anything that wasn’t soccer. Navigating my injuries has been a pivotal experience in my life, and it has also affected the people around me. I would not be who I am without my experiences: a proud female athlete.

Final Disclaimer:
This is a description of my experience with knee injuries. Fortunately, I am still able to be active and have recovered; for that, I am very grateful. I do not claim to speak for all that have experienced an injury, I can only speak from personal history. I am, however, certain that many people out there can relate to this story in some capacity. Thank you.