diary of a 20 something

I reached the top. 

Two hands on the hold, ready to climb down. Descending, I grabbed the “down climb” hold, a comfy loop with a big arrow to help you get to the mat easier. 

But just as I grab it, my feet are gone from the sliver of plastic they were gripping and there I am, dangling from the down climb hold. In a split second, I saw their faces, mouths agape, as I fell like a pencil towards the mat.

While my sister hysterically cackled, Jake and Zach rushed to my side. I sat up quickly, determined to shake it off. And for a second, it all went black.

***

“Just relax,” Tiff called from a nearby bench. “You’re two feet off of the ground.” 

“Do I not look relaxed?” I replied, craning my neck to look at them while my arms quaked, giving me away. 

“You can do this.” 

***

When my sister and Zach moved to Atlanta, he got into bouldering. He got a climbing membership and started going on camping trips, looking for opportunities to scale big rocks. So naturally, when we visited, he wanted to show us his new favorite hobby.

I couldn’t wait. An avid tree climber, rock-scaler, and overall adrenaline fan, I had never tried bouldering. 

***

Tiff started working out in the gym adjacent to the climbing walls while I watched the first-time newbie video. 

“Climbing is dangerous,” it repeated. “Climbing is dangerous.” 

As if I didn’t know. 

***

My vision came back and hot tears joined them. At the front desk, they gave me an ice pack. After signing a waiver, ice is all I was entitled to.

Despite this, I wanted to make the best of our trip. For the rest of the weekend, I ignored the throbbing pain in my elbow, letting my arm dangle limply by my side, convincing myself it was just a sprain.

Weeks went by and I hoped it would heal. The bruising spread, turning blacker each week. When I realized I wasn’t getting any mobility back in my elbow, I started to panic.

I went to urgent care. The woman who looked at my arm at urgent care, immediately referred me to a specialist, with eyes that said, “this is out of my hands.” 

Kyle, my orthopedic specialist, was charismatic as he listened to my tale and delusions about my “sprained” elbow. After an x-ray and MRI, he confirmed that I was not dealing with a sprain. 

“You have a torn ulnar collateral ligament. It’s the same ligament that baseball players tear” he said. “If you’ve ever heard of Tommy John surgery.”

I had not, but apparently it’s very much “a thing”.

“You should schedule surgery next week to repair it,” he continued. “If you wait another week, we’re looking at an elbow reconstruction.” 

“Tommy John it is,” I thought.

***

Even on the easiest climbs, Tiff would climb first while talking through their approach, and watch attentively as I attempted them after.

In bouldering there’s a V-system that tells you how difficult a climb will be. VB (for beginners), V0, V1, V2, and so on. But it’s not that simple, some V1s are easier than V0s in my opinion. I kept my eyes peeled for comfortable holds that I could cling to. 

“Jugs,” Tiff said. “The holds you like, that’s what they’re called.” 

***

After surgery, I wore a brace for months. Two metal bars hinged at my elbow that locked my elbow at 90 degrees and gradually loosened. It was secured by four large velcro straps from my armpit to my wrist.

It was an adjustment. Right after my surgery, I cut my hair (that I had been growing out for the better part of a year) to my shoulders. I couldn’t wear long sleeves. Thankfully, it was spring into summer, so I didn’t have to bother with coats.

I went to physical therapy for six months just to learn how to fully bend and straighten again. Wiping your ass with the opposite hand is not for the faint of heart. Sometimes I would just burst into tears wondering if my arm would ever be normal again.

I honestly wouldn’t have gotten through it without Jake.

***

I didn’t want to boulder because I was scared. I didn’t want to do anything that reminded me of Zach. Reminds me of falling. Reminds me that I’m not invincible as much as I’d like to be. 

Even after a successful climb, I saw myself slip. Climbing down, I’d picture myself falling all over again. 

But I kept going. I kept trying again, and on particularly scary ones, I gave myself permission to give up. And even after everything– after Zach, after surgery, and buckets of fear– I had so much fun. 

P.S. – Thanks Tiff for helping me face my fears 🙂