two profiles in courage
Long ago, I learned that when something raises my ire, it’s best to step back and count to 10 (or even 20).
That’s precisely why I waited a while to throw in my two cents about Kobe Bryant’s ruptured Achilles tendon and his subsequent knee-jerk posting on Facebook.
Seems the Los Angeles Lakers’ superstar wasn’t the least bit happy with the turn of events that abruptly ended his season and would necessitate surgery and a long, difficult period of rehabilitation.
Rather than deal with his misfortune philosophically and maturely, he vented to the world.
“This is such bull,” he began. “All the training and sacrifice just flew out the window.
“The frustration is unbearable. The anger is rage. Why (the heck) did this happen?!? Makes no sense.
“Now I’m supposed to come back from this and be the same player or better at 35?!? How in the world am I supposed to do that?? I have NO CLUE.
“(I) feel as if THIS is the WORST thing EVER!”
Although Bryant followed by talking about the journey and the challenge, the damage was done, and I have a single thought that sums up his rant: Poor baby.
You think you have it tough? Let me tell you about a couple of our kids at Collegiate who have every excuse to complain, but simply refuse to do so. So listen well, bud. There’s a teachable moment that might give you some perspective.
Will Robins, a delightful fourth grader, was born with fibular hemimelia in his left leg.
He has no fibula, and his left leg is shorter than his right, but four complicated surgeries, the first when he was one-and-a-half, have added eight inches to the length of his left leg.
When he was two and six, doctors operated to lengthen his tibia. When he was four, they lengthened his femur.
This past August, doctors installed an appliance designed to lengthen his left leg. They removed it this past Tuesday.
Each procedure was painful, made him prone to infection, and necessitated intense and often painful physical therapy.
Will never flinched.
At home, he does the normal chores expected of a 10-year-old. His phys ed teachers, Page Chapman and Carol Lewis, play to his strengths. While his classmates are aware of his challenges, they treat him as one of the guys.So how does he keep going each day?
“I like to read the comic strip ‘Peanuts,’” he said. “It just makes me laugh. “I know that eventually I’d get this (appliance) off and feel a lot better.
“I just like to look on the bright side.”
As Will continues to grow, more surgery is in the works, and no doubt he’ll approach it with the same resolve he has throughout his life.
“Will has the sunniest disposition,” said Laura Hall, the Lower School nurse.
“He’s always smiling. He just wants to blend in. He has so much innate courage. He’s stoic and never feels sorry for himself. He’s met every challenge and will continue to do so. No doubt he’ll be a success.”
In August 2011, just before he began the fifth grade, Clay Coleman was on a family vacation in Holden Beach, NC, near Wilmington.
He was in shallow water on his boogie board when a shark attacked him and, in a blink of an eye, did serious damage to his left leg.
Bleeding profusely, he made his way out of the Atlantic. His dad (also named Clay) yelled for someone to call 9-1-1, then used his shirt to tie a tourniquet.
Young Clay was transported to the Brunswick County Hospital where he underwent surgery to clean the wound in hopes of warding off infection.
As Hurricane Irene approached, the area was evacuated, and a couple of days later Clay’s family checked him into the Virginia Commonwealth University Medical Center where doctors reattached his severed Achilles tendon and repaired as much of the nerve damage as possible.
Once home, he moved about in a wheelchair and returned to school part-time when his strength and energy allowed. Eventually, he graduated to crutches. By October, he sported a hard cast and later a walking boot.
In November, he began a painful regimen of physical therapy, which he continued until he was eventually released this past January.
Slowly but surely, he’s returned to action. The signs of his close call are scars and a left foot that’s a full two sizes smaller than the right.
Thanks to his own resolve and supportive family and friends, Clay remained optimistic and stoic throughout the long, tedious, often difficult ordeal.
He never submitted to self-pity. He was courageous and tough and vowed that he’d move on and put the incident behind him.
“I knew the doctors would help me get better,” he explained.
“I always tried to be positive, but that’s kind of hard when you’re in a lot of pain.
“My (left) foot isn’t the best. Some parts of it will always be numb, but it’s almost back to normal.
“It won’t keep me from doing what I want to do.”
