I was seven when I started karate and twelve when I was forced to quit. I started Shotokan Karate in the middle of August 2005 after attending the annual Topsham Fair with my family. We had just finished with our ride tickets, and were on our way to get some fried dough when I saw a booth advertising karate lessons. I begged my parents to let me check it out, and after ten minutes of talking to the Sensei. I had an arm full of information packets; I was zealous on joining karate. It had taken some time to get my parents to agree, but not long after I was enrolled and ready to begin.

Karate was an instant click for me. I had so much fun by the end of the year; I went from practicing four hours a week at the dojo to twice that. Nothing compared to karate. I eventually spent more time in the dojo then I did at home. Karate quickly became a part of who I was. Being one of very few girls in the class seemed no challenge to me, it just added to the excitement. I had to overcome a few challenges throughout my time in karate, but that made it all the more worthwhile. One of these challenges occurred during the summer when I was held back a belt as I missed so much class time due to vacations and other plans, that I was not ready for my advancement test. Instead of getting an orange belt with a black stripe, I was given an orange belt with a yellow stripe (the second lowest degree, above only no stripe). To me, the color of your belt was not a big deal, until everyone in my class was advanced to black stripe. I felt humiliated; I decided then that I was not going to let the color of my belt decide how well I did or how hard I kicked. I fought my hardest and by the next advancement test, I skipped the black stripe and caught up to the rest of the class. From then on, I knew that whatever I set my mind to I could achieve, if I just believed in myself.

As the years went on, and training got harder, I pushed myself to the limits. I was 100% devoted to karate. I spent every night in the dojo, and even became a teacher’s assistant to the other classes. I went on to compete in national competitions and even managed to place in a few of them. Karate became my life, from spending twelve plus hours in the dojo a week, to traveling across New England for workshops, and even meeting some pretty impressive karate figures like Clay Morton.

Karate was my inspiration; I knew if I could beat up my friend’s older brother without a struggle then nothing stood in my way; that is until I fell to the floor in agonizing pain. It started out like any other normal Tuesday afternoon, I came home, did homework, ate dinner, and was off to karate, but little did I know that this would be that last time I would travel to the dojo. About an hour into practice, while preparing for our advancement test the following week, I was mid leap into my jumping reverse roundhouse kick, when I heard a large POP! I fell to the floor in excruciating pain, unaware of what had happened. I could not stop screaming long enough for anybody to ask questions. The pain was like someone had suddenly stabbed a thousand knives in my leg all at once. To this day, I cannot imagine a more unbearable pain. At the time, I was not aware of what had occurred all I knew was that nothing anybody could say would make me feel better. My parents did not stay that night, and I remember how scared I was. I heard my Sensei announce to everybody that practice was done early, to go change up. Practice was never done early and I could not help but wonder how bad the situation was, for in all my years of karate, this was the first time Sensei told everybody to leave. I can still picture clear as day everybody staring wide-eyes at me as I screamed from the middle of the room, while they bowed at the door and left.

I heard my Sensei tell someone not to let me move, to call an ambulance, and get a hold of my parents. A parent of another student called 9-1-1, while another took my parents’ information. After several attempts at reaching my parents, they finally were able to get a hold of my dad. They told him I was hurt and what the Sensei believed to be a knee dislocation. They told him that an ambulance was on the way and that I was hanging in there, but my dad could hear my screams in the background. When my dad got off the phone with them, he called my grandmother to meet me at the dojo, as he could not leave my little sister home alone. It did not take her long to arrive, as she was visiting a friend nearby.

After what felt like an eternity, the ambulance finally arrived. Three large men came in carrying medical bags and a stretcher. After one of the men took my information, examined both the situation, and my knee, he confirmed that I did indeed have a full knee dislocation. The injury was to the extent that it needed to be popped back into place by a doctor at the hospital. He and his men worked very carefully to lift me up onto the stretcher, as not to move my knee around anymore then absolutely necessary. They moved me to the ambulance and instructed my grandmother to sit up front. After a little while, we were on our way to Mid-coast Hospital. While in the ambulance, they tried to give me pain killers through an IV, but the paramedics could not find a vein to put it in. After several failed attempts, they were finally able to stick the needle in my arm, only to realize that the morphine tank was empty. They drove extremely slow, and careful as to not disturb my knee. Their care did not do much good though, because I was still screaming with unimaginable pain as my kneecap continued to sit behind my knee socket. My leg had become swollen to the point of what had looked like a hot air balloon had taken the place of my leg. I was terrified, in pain, and nervous about what was to come. This was my first ride in an ambulance, and what I hope to be my last. I shared this first experience with my grandmother as well, because this was her first ride too!

When we finally arrived at the hospital, my mom was waiting in the emergency room. As they wheeled me into my room, with my arm latched onto my mom, screaming in pain, I began to feel calmer. After many x-rays and examinations, the nurses announced that the doctor was finally ready to put my knee back in place. As nurses filled the room to hold me down, the doctor told me he was going to count to three and slide my kneecap back into place. I laid their anxiously awaiting the impending surge of pain to follow, the doctor slowly counted to three. 1…2…and that was all I heard as I screamed bloody murder, until there was no more air left in my lungs to scream anymore. The doctor had tricked me, he only counted to two. The nurse pulled my foot away from me, while the doctor took his hands under my knee and slid my kneecap around 180º. I do not know what was worse, the dislocation or the relocation. After many more x-rays, a bottle of pain relievers, a full leg brace with an added bonus of crutches and a referral to an orthopedic doctor, I was sent home to rest.

At the time, I did not know what this meant for my karate career, but within time, I discovered that my karate life was at its end. The doctor said that I was not allowed to continue karate, any form of karate was unauthorized. I was told to say good-bye to karate. He said that my knee would never fully recover enough to return to karate, that I would be lucky for my knee to recover to seventy-five percent normal health. My life’s work and enjoyment was down the drain within a matter of seconds. I went from the girl who could kick butt and was less than a week away from getting her red belt, to the girl who never went back and lost all she ever loved to do. I still look back today, and wonder what could have happened differently to change the outcome of that night. I have been to numerous doctors here and there in hope for finding a chance to return to my one true passion, but the answer is always the same, with your extremely low muscle tone it is not an option. Even now after several dislocations to both knees, having to quit field hockey, soccer, and other sports, to even wearing two full leg knee braces during any physical activity, I am still grateful that I had the chance to find something that I could put my heart and soul into, with my passion for karate. I do not regret doing karate, even if it meant not being able to be involved in other sports, I know that no matter how hard some people search, they will never find something they love as much as I did with karate, and for that I am eternally grateful.