The minutes of practice time leading up to a major performance or competition are the most stressful for a dancer. This is also the time when the most brutal injuries occur. It is during those few moments that dancers are trying their hardest to get everything right, to be absolutely perfect. When it comes to dance, ankles, despite being moderately strong, are considered one of the body parts most susceptible to injury.
I was ten minutes away from the biggest audition I had ever had to face when it happened. One second I was spinning, the next I was on the ground in pain. Though I had not been x-rayed yet, dozens of similar situations led me to recognize the problem instantly--I had sprained my ankle. My audition time was rescheduled for later in the day, and I was sent to see a doctor. My ankle hurt, but the pain was bearable. I expected nothing more than a routine x-ray and having to place ice on the sprained area in fifteen minute increments for a couple of hours. That isn’t what I got. Instead I was given a choice, a choice that had to be made almost immediately. The doctor told me that I could grab a bag of ice and an ankle brace, and be on my way; that I could head right back to my audition, almost as if I had never landed on my ankle the wrong way. My second option was to go home, elevate my ankle, and stay off of it for a couple of weeks. Without delay, I chose the former. I had trained for months, and worked myself like a dog in preparation for that audition, so there was no way I was going to turn back now. Before I could leave, the doctor clued me in on the implications of my decision. He said that returning to the audition would only make the sprain hurt worse. I wasn’t shocked, I mean, of course it would hurt worse if I was dancing on it. It was what came out of the doctor’s mouth next that threw me for a loop. He told me that not only would my ankle hurt worse, but it also wouldn’t heal properly. If I were to dance through the sprain, it could affect my dancing forever. I was crushed. To protect myself from permanent injury meant giving up on an opportunity. It meant that everything I had done all year was for nothing. It meant giving up. I am an extreme perfectionist; in dance, that is an unwritten requirement. The only thing I hate more than losing is giving up, which is exactly what I was about to do. For a
