I wasn’t always a malnourished vegetarian. I didn’t always consider my 30 minute walk to work an exercise episode. At one point in my life I even sweat on other occasions than waking up in the middle of the night and realizing I didn’t put my fan on.
I was a hockey player.
I along with a huge portion of the Canadian youth population would lace up out Tacks throw on our Bauer shoulder pads and protect our boy hood with a piece of thin plastic with ventilation holes.
At the novice house league level, there were three different types of players. (1) There were those players that had equipment that made them look disproportionate. Either their shoulder pads were too big or their shin pads were to skinny…something didn’t look right. They would score goals, but they weren’t going anywhere. (2) There were the players that kind of looked like Black Beauty in the first scene where Black Beauty was born. (If you aren’t familiar with the movie, just picture a newly born horse) Covered in a thin layer of bodily fluids, with legs that just weren’t suffice at holding up the body, these individuals were also not going anywhere in a hurry. (3) There were the players that were legitimately good hockey players whether they wanted to be there or not. Then there was me…
I was a good hockey player. Not much of a goal scorer, but a fancy skater with a wrist shot that I didn’t control, it controlled me. I worked my way through the ranks of house league until I landed a position on the Mount Hamilton Blues; a traveling team that represented a portion of Hamilton in regional and national tournaments. So why was I not an all time scorer, or why was I not on the front line of all the team attacks?
Paralysis.
I’m not paralyzed but I did have this strange fear of not being able to use the lower half of my body. I walked into the change room, but would I walk out? I stretched my legs before hockey games, but would I not need to stretch them afterwards? I don’t know where this fear came from. Possibly from my urge to stay away from violent situations. I don’t like seeing pain. I don’t like experiencing pain and if it wasn’t for my severe bouts with clumsiness, I would be scar free. Back to the ice…
I can remember walking out of the dressing room and being the accepting and laid back person I am would tell myself, “well this is it Brian, the last time you will walk on your own accord.” Who would be the one that would hit me? Would I see it coming? Would I follow the rest of the season from the bench? Would I give thumbs up to the slew of onlookers like a daredevil being carried out by his crew.
I was conservative on the ice, made some hits, scored some goals, got hit, but was never really injured other than a few pucks to the groin. Thank god for the piece of thin plastic with ventilation holes.
The way I see it, without suffering from the odd case of Limb phobia, (fear of losing a part of the body) I could have been “The Good One”. The player that was just really good at the game of hockey. I would have scored a couple of goals a season and I would have looked proportionate. Oh well, can’t dwell in the past.
I can say though I have grown out of my bout with limb phobia. I can’t remember the last time I really worried about loosing the ability to use my legs…or my feet for that matter. According to a section of the internet, the condition “may sound quite serious, but it isn’t so serious in the actual sense. It is just an irrational state of fear. Your phobia is a intense fear, which poses no real danger” (http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20080818131437AAYignZ).
Where was the internet 10 years ago? Why am I only learning about the irrationality of my fear now. What a waste of a hockey career...
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