Two days ago, I rolled my ankle playing basketball. My immediate reaction was, fuck! Not so much in the sense that it hurt, but more in regards to how it was going to alter my plans. Spraining my ankle wasn’t on my agenda. That being said, in the minutes following the initial gut reaction, corrupted thoughts started entering my brain:
I can totally get pain meds.
I can totally milk this.
I hope this creates a lot of pity for me.
These were real thoughts that lingered in my mind just minutes after the injury. Two days later, they’re still here. I spent the entire day swimming in them. The good news is, I didn’t act on them.
Even though my day didn’t go as I had hoped, maybe that’s not such a bad thing. My old habits would have taken me straight to the doctor, where he or she would have run me through the standard “On a scale of 1-10, how does this feel? And how about when I do this?” I would have responded with references in the 6-8 range, as my thinking would convince me that answering a 10 on the pain scale would seem too high to be true. Most likely, because of the actually swelling and bruising around my ankle, I would have left the office with a prescription for between 10-15 Hydrocodone pills. The rest of the day, I would have been sitting on the couch, totally in my head about how I manipulated the doctor and justified my own relapse.
Sane thinking, right?
Lying in bed right now, I am considering whether or not I want to use this injury to my advantage at work tomorrow. Sure, I have to be on my feet all day, and it’s probably not in my best interest to push myself too hard, but when did dishonesty become one of the side effects of a sprained ankle? It’s funny how such a random, uncontrollable act can thrust me back to my default character settings. Hopefully, in sharing this, I can show up tomorrow for my co-workers, honest, and in the moment. After all, my plans haven’t always been in my best interest.