Sometimes it is just easier to forgive.

I've been feeling strangely emotional all day, on the verge of bawling my eyes out. Yesterday I intended to write a happy post about how I was able to walk around my house and even from my office to the copy machine, and how it wouldn't be long before I was walking again. And then this morning, I woke up and both my hips hurt quite a bit, because I've been overdoing it, pushing myself too hard. I went to PT and I was so excited about walking that I ignored the pain and went to my appointment without crutches, just to show Jerry that I could walk. Of course he remarked immediately that I wasn't walking right, and that I really needed to keep using the crutches, or at least a cane. (Um, no thanks to the cane.) I was in pain the rest of the day, to the extent that I came home from work and popped an oxycodone. Now I'm settled down on the couch with my heating pad, writing this. The roller coaster.

But that's not why I want to bawl, nor what I came here to write about. My mind is elsewhere. 

When I got into work this morning, I turned on my computer and went straight to e-mail. I had an e-mail from a colleague informing the department that he has cancer. Esophageal cancer. OMG. I don't know anything about esophageal cancer, but I'm pretty sure it can't be good. I sat for a minute and processed the information, then started to cry a little. 

But you know what the weird thing is? This isn't a colleague I'm friends with. I hesitate to use the word enemy, but if I had one, he would be it. In fact, at the end of the the spring semester, in April, he and I and another colleague got into a huge fight during a committee meeting that landed us all in mediation and ended with the entire department in kumbaya-type meetings with outside mediators. For a few weeks, I cried a lot, and I was so angry I started looking for another job and plotting ways I could screw the department over. LOL. We have hardly spoken since then, except insofar as we have to to do our jobs, which has been about two sentences at a department meeting. Literally. At some point during the hoopla, my Chair came to me and told me that for what it was worth, TJ felt really bad, and since he wasn't sure if TJ would ever apologize to me, he wanted me to know that TJ was genuinely sorry. At the time, I said I didn't want an apology because it wouldn't mean anything after all that TJ has put me and some of my colleagues through, and I didn't ever want to talk to him again - which is awkward, because our offices are right next to each other, but whatever.  

Over the summer, I let go of a lot of the anger simply because I had to. Seriously y'all, I am so dang tired, and anger just takes so much energy. Also, considering all that my department has done for me through the turmoil of the past four years, I can't complain. I know of plenty of people who have lost their jobs over just one health crisis, and I've kept my job with full pay and a lot of time off and/or reduced workloads through three different health issues. I am truly grateful for that. 

The interesting thing about TJ is that while he is truly a jerk to me and many of my colleagues about 90% of the time, he has always had a soft spot when it comes to health issues. And it is very genuine. Like, he's either oblivious or indifferent to the fact that he causes people to suffer emotionally, but as soon as you present with something physical, he is genuinely concerned about your well-being. The discordance is quite remarkable, practically mind-boggling. Both I and my colleague, who had to have a hip replacement a few years ago, have noticed this for quite some time now. When I was recovering from my breast reconstruction, another colleague texted me something along the lines of I know you and TJ don't get along, but he is genuinely concerned about you. He is constantly asking me for updates on how you're doing. What can I say, people are weird, complex, and incomprehensible beings. 

To add an interesting twist to this situation, I mentioned previously that I worked out a last-minute offload so that I'm only teaching 3/4 time this semester. TJ's wife, who also works in the department part-time, is the person who took over my fourth class for me, so we've been working together pretty closely. It's slightly awkward, but she's actually a sweetheart (I can't for the life of me figure out their relationship), and we are both professionals, so it has been fine.  

I knew something was up because on Friday of last week, TJ's wife asked me to cover her exam for her on Monday. She said needed to take TJ to the doctor, and it was an appointment where he needed someone to be with him. She apologized that it was last-minute, but said it was something that had just come up, so I figured it was something semi-serious. Seeing as how she was asking me to cover a class that was supposed to be mine, of course I immediately said yes. I have to admit that I was slightly curious, but I didn't pry, because I'm not a prying type of person, and even if I were, we don't have that type of relationship. 

On Tuesday, TJ and I passed each other in the hall. Usually we both look down at the floor and avert our eyes so we don't have to acknowledge each other. But to my surprise, he stopped and smiled at me, and commented on how much better I was getting around. Then, somewhat awkwardly, he said, 'I've heard such fantastic things about you from [my wife]. She is so impressed with how organized you are and how you run the class. She says you are so great to work with.' And the thing is, he was very genuine; there's no reason he had to say anything, seeing as how we've been looking away from each other when we pass in the hallway for, like, eight years now. LOL. The other weird thing is that during this interaction he actually seemed... happy? I'm not sure if that's quite it, but it was definitely something different from his usual grumpy demeanor. And I say that without judgement, as I, too, have a grumpy demeanor, so that's actually one thing we have in common.

I think I stared at him for a couple of seconds with my mouth open. I was actually pretty embarrassed by this shocking olive-branch offering, but I did my best to remain cool, and thanked him, told him how grateful I was to his wife for stepping in at the last minute, then continued crutching down the hall. After further reflection, I figured he must have gotten good news at his doctor appointment. But, in fact, it was the opposite. 

And now this. 

I've been crying on and off as I'm writing this, and I don't understand why. It is hitting me even harder than when my good friend told me she has breast cancer. I guess when it's a friend and someone you love, you know how to feel and what to do; you just feel sad and sorry, and you offer to bring meals, drink wine together, whatever the friend needs. It is tough emotionally, but at least there's an accepted reaction in place. 

But this. This is different. Since my own cancer diagnosis, I started following cancer blogs. Several of those bloggers have passed away, and I've been surprised by how emotional I've felt about it. In fact, my post about Ashleigh Range is the most viewed post of all the posts I've written here. With cancer and hip dysplasia, some of the deepest and most meaningful connections you make to people are on the Internet, because the people in your everyday life just don't understand what you're going through. It's hard to know how to mourn appropriately when an 'Internet only' friend passes away, because there aren't protocols in place for that. I feel like this is similar territory. How do you react appropriately for someone you don't get along with - someone who has, quite honestly, harassed you and treated you awfully, but yet someone you care about and want to support, because after all is said and done, you're both human, and esophageal cancer isn't something you'd wish on anyone? There aren't protocols for that. 

I keep thinking back to our exchange on Tuesday and wondering what must be going through TJ's mind right now. While my own prognosis has been as good as it can possibly be when it comes to cancer, I know that a cancer diagnosis, no matter how 'good,' changes you. I know some people can say definitively how cancer changed them - for better or for worse - but I'm one of those who feels more ambiguous. I don't understand the ways in which cancer has changed me, I just know that it has. And I know for sure that in the early stages of the diagnosis, where TJ is right now, when you don't know the details of the cancer - what grade, what stage - all sorts of things go through your head as you contemplate your own mortality. You reflect on all the things for which you're grateful, the things that make you bitter, the people you love, the people you despise, the things you regret doing, the things you regret not doing, the things you hope to do, the things you wish you hadn't done, the person you are, the person you wished you had been, the life you have, the life you didn't have. It is nonstop. And it is so, so hard. That much, I know. 

And I now know my interaction with TJ on Tuesday was some response to this crisis you go through when you're diagnosed. I understand that's his apology to me that he never gave me earlier in the year. And I want to say, I forgive you, but how can you do that when someone doesn't actually tell you they're sorry? 

Just a few days ago, I watched a video that has gone semi-viral on social media about a woman who was an Auschwitz survivor. The video documented her process of forgiving the Nazis who killed her family and performed experiments on her and her twin sister. My response to the friend who posted the video was an immediate and definitive, That woman is a better person than I am. And it's true. I cannot imagine. I truly cannot. At the same time, the message was that forgiveness is power. That woman found power in her ability to forgive even the most unspeakable acts that have been done in the history of humanity. I have no idea how, but she did. She felt that was more powerful than clinging to her much-deserved anger and bitterness. It was her choice, and she chose forgiveness. 

My situation isn't even in the same universe as that woman's story, so please don't interpret this as me comparing having a jerk of a colleague to that of an Auschwitz survivor. I hope that those of us who can specifically relate to such horrific acts will be few and far between. Instead, I want to focus on the message of forgiveness. That message resonates with me, and helps guide my feelings, and how to respond appropriately. 

There are unspoken words here, but I know they're something like this:

I'm sorry.

It's okay; I forgive you, and I'm so sorry you're going through this. I truly want to be here for you and your wife.

Cancer. It sucks. Suckity, suckity, sucks. And as a 'survivor' - at least for now - I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I weren't there for someone who's going through this awful experience, no matter our past relationship.

Maybe it's just selfish, but sometimes it's just easier to forgive.

Happy!

I had a surprisingly great day today, so I just have to document it. I worry that this blog is too much WOE IS ME, so I should make an effort to write about the good days, lest you get the impression I'm all gloom and doom (even though I am, hahaha).

I can't begin to describe the level of exhaustion I've felt over the past week. My body is still adjusting to going back to work, and on top of this, it's exam week, so I've been grading, grading, grading, and more grading. Also, yesterday, I had to cover a class for a colleague. The class was one that was originally mine, but that I passed off to aforementioned colleague, so when she asked me to sit in for her due to a family issue, I could hardly say no. Even though it was just an exam - so literally, all I had to do was SIT there - it exhausted me, and I came home and took an hour-long nap.

Then, today, I had to go back to another class that another colleague has been covering for me. So basically this was my first FULL week back. I was super nervous about going back to this particular class, because it's my nemesis class, and no matter what I do the students seem to hate me or the class or both. Also, the colleague who was covering it for me gets way better teaching evaluations than I do (granted, she has never taught this particular class before), so I was nervous the students would be bummed I was back. Plus, I'm not exactly feeling super confident clunking into the class on crutches and all, ya know? AND on top of all of this, today's material was possibly theeeee most boring material I cover in the entire course. I can't think of a worse way to come back than to show up on crutches, return exams (which always pisses some people off), and then talk about cell membranes and free energy change and entropy and thermodynamics for three freaking hours. >:-(

BUT! The class went really well, and my students seemed super enthusiastic and engaged - or at least as engaged as you can be about thermodynamics. (Snore.) At the end of class, a couple students sort of shouted out, 'Thank you, Waning!' Like... for what? Showing up to class and lecturing? Last I checked, that's my job. LOL. But it was very sweet, like they were really happy I was back. (This class is second semester intro biology, so I've had many of them before. And to be fair to myself, I did my very hardest to make the lecture as entertaining as humanly possible, complete with pictures of divers, my son at the top of a climbing wall, myself jumping out of a swing, and failed human towers.) My students' enthusiasm totally made my day! It actually energized me and made me feel happy to be back, rather than counting down the days until the end of the semester, which is what I'm normally doing around this time in the semester.

And OMG, despite the morale boost, I came home and graded and graded, then took an hour-long nap. And then I graded some more. And now I'm soooooo ready for bed, but I'm feeling very happy and optimistic nonetheless.

As self-conscious as I feel about my situation, I'm learning to accept it, and even embrace some aspects of it. I don't have an openly warm fuzzy personality, and a lot of times my students find me somewhat cold and standoffish. Not that I want to play the WOE IS ME card, but... sometimes you need some extra help. LOL. While I'm feeling vulnerable, they're seeing me as more human. They don't necessarily know a lot of details about my ordeal, but they do know it was enough that I missed a month of class and now I still can't walk, yet I'm there for them anyway. What's humbling for me might just be a good thing.

Silver linings, silver linings. It's at least something to cling to for the moment.

Half an Inch of Water

This roller coaster. Wow.

Just earlier tonight, I started composing this entry in my head, about how defeated I am feeling. I am just so damn exhausted all of the time, and completely overwhelmed with work. But I keep pushing through. I'm trying to eat well, rest when I can, do my PT exercises when I can, and I honestly feel like I can't push myself any harder. Yet, my recovery continues to be painfully slow.

Today, I spent most of the day on the couch, grading. UGH. I absolutely, positively DESPISE grading. While grading, I was also semi-watching some minimally interesting college football games and icing, heating, doing my isometric contractions, self-massage, and riding the stationary bike during my breaks. At the end of the day, I was frustrated by how much my hips hurt, considering how much attention they got today. My husband had already made dinner and put the kids to bed, so I figured it was my job to do the dishes. I had a serious set-back last weekend when I was trying to clean up the house before my husband got back from his week-long business trip. Bending over to empty/load the dishwasher and do laundry caused major spasms in my back that were just awful. AWFUL. I didn't have the energy to write about it, but I'm just now feeling back to where I was prior to this episode, so I'm paranoid about bending over too much. I know, it sounds like a handy excuse, huh? So I decided to be proactive and take some pain meds - half a valium and an oxycodone. I hate doing this, because I'm trying to wean off the heavy meds, and it feels like going backwards, but... whatever.

And what do you know, now I feel fantastic. I noticed just how fantastic I felt when I was picked up my computer off the couch to take it to my desk so I could charge it. I had a bunch of stuff to carry, and my desk wasn't too far away, so I decided to leave the crutch behind. And I just walked to my desk, almost like a normal person, with minimal pain. Just like that. No thinking, no psyching up, no concentrating on tightening my core and squeezing my glutes, like I have been working on in PT. I just did it. And in those 15 steps or so, all my frustrations from the day just melted away.

Moments like this are awesome, but there's still that element of OMG I cannot handle these ups and downs. That's what's getting me. Emotionally, I'm wrung out, running on empty. I realize that given my personality, the alternative to feeling emotional ups and downs is for me to be feeling down all the time, and trust me, I don't want to go there. But at the same time, feeling so many peaks and valleys each and every day is tough in its own way. I feel like a moody teenager, and god I hated being a teenager. You couldn't pay me a million dollars to go back there.

I think the frustrating thing is that if I think about things logically, I know I'm making progress. However, I still have such a long way to go. And as much as I try to stay in the moment, I cannot help but think forward to my next round of surgeries on my left side, and that gets me so super depressed I cannot put it into words. Part of me is learning to accept my life on crutches for what it is and not get worked up about the fact that it has been two and a half months since my surgeries and I still can't walk, yet another part of me gets overly excited about walking from one room to another and can't wait to get rid of them. It's all so confusing to the emotional headquarters in my brain. LOL.

All that said, I am going to try my best to stay positive, so I thought it might help to make a list of some milestones. Here are some things that I can do that I could absolutely not do when I started PT approximately three weeks ago.

• I can walk a little, like I just wrote about. When I started PT, I couldn't even take one step without coming close to falling over.
• I can get around well on crutches. It is still tiring, but nothing like the drop-dead exhaustion I felt the first day I went back to teaching. I can also get around very well with just one crutch, which I'm not exactly supposed to do, but my PT agreed it's okay to cheat sometimes, as long as I focus on not leaning and keeping my gait nice and even.
• My energy levels have improved greatly. Although I'm still exhausted all of the time, it's because I'm doing so, so much. I'd be exhausted even without this whole hip ordeal. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that my energy levels feel close to normal.
• I can lift my leg a little now. I can lift it up far enough to get my foot into my car, which I couldn't do at all three weeks ago. This isn't even something we've worked on in PT, just something that is coming back with time and healing.
• My range of motion has improved a lot. I can now touch my foot and put shoes other than my slip-on clogs on. I'm still using my old-lady contraption to put my right sock on, but I'm definitely getting closer to being able to do without it. This is also something we haven't worked on in PT - I think my therapist is paranoid about pushing me on range of motion - it's just something that has come with time and healing.
• I have most of the feeling in my thigh back. It is still a little numb, but it's definitely improved, and the weird, throbbing pains I used to get are mostly gone.
• My pain levels, though they wax and wane, are generally very manageable. Most of my pain feels muscular, and I don't feel a lot of pain coming from my hip joint. Overall, I don't think my pain levels are much worse than they were pre-surgery. So that is amazing. 

This is all so hard, I can't even TRY to describe it. And even if I tried, I wouldn't expect anyone to understand what it's like. In so many ways, this is so much harder than cancer. But at the same time, the fact that I'm getting through this, and finding multiple coping mechanisms, and pulling strength out of every nook and cranny of my body that I can just to get through the day, gives me a sense of pride and accomplishment that I also can't even try to describe. 

This song, by John Prine, has long been one of my favorites. But now, more than ever, I feel like this is my life. 

I was sittin' in the bathtub just countin' my toes
When the radiator broke, water all froze
I was stuck in the ice without my clothes
Naked as the eyes of a clown
I was cryin' ice cubes, hopin' I'd croak
When the sun came through the window, the ice all broke
I stood up and laughed, I thought it was a joke
That's the way that the world goes 'round

That's the way that the world goes 'round
You're up one day, the next you're down
It's a half-an-inch of water and you think you're gonna drown
That's the way that the world goes 'round.

And there you have it. This is life. This is my half inch of water. Half an inch of water won't drown me, but it can make me slip and fall and set me back. So I must proceed cautiously, yet optimistically, knowing that I'm going to be okay.

Tired

Warning: This is going to be one of my philosophical, over-the-top emo posts, without much substance.

I haven't been writing as much as I want to, partly because I haven't really been able to understand what I'm feeling enough to put it into words. Even when I do write, I feel like I'm always starting with some sort of disclaimer along the lines of I don't really know how to describe what I'm feeling, but listen to this bullshit anyway. Or something like that.

I now fully understand what it is that I'm feeling, and I can describe it in a single word. More than anything else, I am 

TIRED.

Yeah, there are other emotions going through my head, but all of them are some sort of rendition of TIRED.

TIRED of surgery.

TIRED from surgery. 

TIRED of being on crutches.

TIRED from being on crutches.

TIRED of pain.

TIRED from pain.

TIRED of going to doctors.

TIRED from going to doctors.

TIRED of not being able to do all the things I want to do.

TIRED from doing things I shouldn't be doing, but have to do anyway.

TIRED of X.

TIRED of Y.

TIRED of Z.

TIRED from X, Y, and Z.

TIRED of being TIRED.

I'm running out steam. 

There are some days when I look forward to dying, being done with all of this. But fortunately, evolution serves me well here; I come from a long line of ancestors - human and pre-human - who are here because we are born with the tools be survivors. That's what organisms do. They survive. The idea that life should give us some sort of fulfillment or self-satisfaction is unique to humans, and a privileged set of humans at that. The rest of the living world just survives.

And so here I am. I'm surviving, and even a little bit more than that. So I'm winning, no? 

Last I wrote, I was heading back to work, and my husband was heading out of town for work. In so many ways, the week was hell, but in so many ways, surviving it was so uplifting that I think it did more for my recovery than any other time in this recovery. In fact, right now, I feel

AMAZING.

I realize that I am so, so lucky in so many regards. I have a great support system in place, and for that I am so grateful. My Chair at work has been beyond supportive, and got me a last-minute offload so that I am only teaching 3/4 time this semester. As well, one of my colleagues who is covering one of my classes for me agreed to teach it for two more weeks, through the first exam, so I was able to ease into work by just having one class to worry about. That made going back to work so much less stressful than it would have been otherwise.

Regardless, I feel ridiculously TIRED right now, but the fact that I'm still here and still functioning and I haven't killed one of my kids, and I even managed to get them to school on time all week, is AMAZING. 

Laugh if you have to, but it's the little things. For me, it's all about the little things. 

And if you put enough little things together, you can get to something big. 

Last I wrote, I was worked up about teaching on crutches. Throughout all of this, this has been my biggest source of stress, more than the surgery itself. I am an introvert, which I understand is difficult for people to believe, considering I regularly lecture to large numbers of students for a living. Even after a decade of teaching, I still get nervous to the point of nausea before most of my classes. I realize my students are scrutinizing my every move, and I hate to bring any extra attention to myself by say, oh, arriving to class on crutches. I even hate that I'm using Mobileg crutches, the special ergonomic crutches for people who are going to be on crutches forever and a freaking day, because people notice them, and comment on how fancy they are, and I hate the extra attention of having 'fancy' crutches. 

That said, I arrived at my classes on my fancy crutches this week, delivered the damn lectures, and it was very anti-climactic, in a good way. I cared way more about being on crutches than my students did. At least, I think so. Honestly, it was no big deal. The biggest deal was getting to my classroom from my office. I wasn't sure how long it would take me, so on the first day, I left my office 35 minutes before my class started. It only took me about 10 minutes to get to the classroom, so I had 25 minutes before class started, but it was a good thing I did. I was so. damn. TIRED. after making the trek, I needed those 25 minutes to recover. My legs felt like Jello. It was also a little awkward because I was sitting outside the classroom with a number of my students, and they were definitely staring at me, but they didn't say anything to me because they had never seen me before, and most of them are 18-year-olds with worse social skills than I have. LOL. The second class was better, because now that students know who I am, some of them will talk to me before class, so it's not as weird as just sitting there. I also decided that even though I normally leave my cell phone in my office, I should bring it with me to class so I have something to do while I'm waiting. 

So while my goal was to just SURVIVE the week, I was pleasantly surprised that I was able to actually make PROGRESS during the week. Even between Monday and Wednesday, I noticed a huge difference in my energy level. And even though my week was beyond exhausting, I made time to go to physical therapy on both Monday and Friday, since Jerry is so helpful. 

And as it turns out, Jerry gave me the boost that I needed. He didn't push me a lot in PT, because by going back to work, I'm already doing so much more than I was before. In fact, he told me that the best way for me to gain strength was to sleep more, and nap whenever I can (!!!). (Have I mentioned that I love this guy?) 

BUT. What was really the boost that I needed was the reminder that I AM actually progressing, no matter how small the baby steps may seem. At my appointment on Friday, Jerry asked me how I was feeling, and I said that I was feeling about the same as I had before, and I considered that progress, considering how hellish my week had been. Then he asked me how my left hip (non operated hip) was feeling. I said it felt pretty good. Then he asked how my back was feeling. I said it felt pretty good. Then he reminded me that last week, my left hip and my back were both killing me, so the fact that I self-reported them as feeling 'pretty good' was progress. And, the fact that I was progressing despite this hellish week was good news - really good progress - indeed.

Like I said, it's the little things.

They're so little, you don't notice them on a daily basis. But they're there. Jerry had detailed notes from my first visit, and felt good about my progress. I didn't feel good about my progress until he reminded me of my pain levels last week, and the fact that I pretty much couldn't walk at all (AT ALL) the first time I saw him.

He reminded me that this isn't a sprint, it's a marathon. Whenever anyone pulls cliches like this on me, I instinctively pull back and shudder a little bit. Cancerland is full of cliches and cute little sayings like 'cancerversary' that make me want to throw up over and over again, and I'm finding that the hip dysplasia world is no different. So when Jerry told me this recovery is a marathon, I looked him in the eye and informed him that I used to run track, and I was a sprinter. The longest race I was good at was 10 seconds long, so he would have to bear with me and my impatience. I'm not a marathon runner, and never will be. 

Nonetheless, slow and steady is my new reality. I've fully bought into the idea that I've gone through way too much to end up with a limp when all of this is said and done. So despite the fact that the slooooooow pace of my recovery is. killing. me, I'm trying so, so hard to be a good patient, and understand that for whatever reason, no matter how infuriating it may be to me, my body needs to take its own sweet time in this recovery. 

They say slow and steady wins the race, which I know isn't always true. I beat plenty of slow and steady people in my days as an athlete. But this isn't a race; it isn't a competition. It's only me. As Jerry told me, it isn't as easy as doing three sets of ten, and for people with athletic backgrounds, that can be infuriating.

So... I've had to change my mindset. Rather than seeing my current state of being as something temporary that I must overcome ASAP, somehow in the past week I've changed. I now fully accept that this is completely different from an injury; it is a condition - a permanent one - that I must embrace and deal with. Dude, I'm, like... disabled. It's hard to even write that. But somehow thinking of it this way, rather than, whoa, I've got this injury that's going to take me years to get over, is easier for me. Still, it's hard to wrap my mind around that. 

But.

I'm too tired to fight it. 

I am so, so tired. 

When it rains, it pours.

I don't really have words to describe how I'm feeling right now, but I'm going to write anyway. I'm going through such a ridiculous range of emotions - from positive to negative to just plain old blaaaaah, I can't wait for this life to be over. AM I DEAD YET? Nope, okay, well then, I might as well live while I'm still alive. Get busy living or get busy dying.

Part of my major, major stress is that I have to go back to work on Monday, September 11th. What a day, huh? And when it rains, it pours. My husband is leaving for a work trip on Sunday, and not returning for a week. So that's a lot. A LOT. Not only do I have to go back to work, but I also have to get the kids up in the morning, get them dressed, fed, dropped off at school, picked up from school, fed again, EVERYTHING. I only started to go up the stairs a week ago, and I've only been upstairs twice since then, so this is going to be a lot.

Now, when I say that I have to return to work, that's probably overly dramatic. I've been up to work. I don't know how many times, but I've been working remotely since probably three weeks post-op, and I've been going into the office at least once a week for a while now. All my colleagues have heard me clunking around the hallway and know that I can't walk and won't bei able to walk for a very long time and don't care. Because most of them didn't care about me even when I could walk, lol. What I mean by 'going back to work' is that I have to start teaching again. And that's a whole different thing, because the thought of lecturing in front of 80 students while I'm on crutches makes me want to throw up to the extent that I'm surprised I'm not throwing up right now just thinking about it.

But, it will happen, because it has to.

I don't have the energy to write about it right now.

Right now I'm going to focus on the little things. Aside from my feeling of impending doom over teaching on crutches and surviving a week of solo parenting on crutches, I'm feeling more positive than I was in my last post, at least about my physical state. I went to physical therapy yesterday and Jerry showed me some really helpful exercises to do. I tried walking without crutches, and I really just can't do it for more than one or two steps. I'm not sure Jerry actually believed me when I told him I CAN'T walk. It's not a question of it hurting too much, or even with me limping excessively; I cannot will my muscles to do the right things at the right time. If I had to take more steps without anything to grab onto, I think I'd just fall over. And to be honest, I thought maybe it was just a mental block, too, but now it's clear that this is an actual physiological problem that we have to deal with. There is some serious miscommunication going on between my brain and my muscles. I get that this is normal, but I feel the severity of it in my case is perplexing, as the extent of my dysfunction has surprised both Dr. Terminator and now Jerry.

So, we literally have to start over. Jerry gave me some exercises to do that are components of walking - stepping forward, and shifting my weight forward, then stepping back and shifting my weight backwards - while holding onto a counter for balance. That will retrain my brain to at least get pieces of what it needs to do. When I can get that down, we'll add another step in. This at least feels like progress, however slow. He told me to really focus on making sure my glutes are contracting and my core is engaged when I'm doing all of these exercises. Right now my glutes are not working when I try to walk, even though I can contract them isometrically. As a result, my back and hip flexors are compensating, which is leading to a lot of pain, and is a big no-no for the long-term. Jerry said it takes 10,000 steps to form a pattern of walking, so it's important for me to be sure I'm starting over with the correct habits, and the right muscles doing the right things at the right time.

It's just mind boggling to me that I can walk so easily with crutches, but not at all without them. Around the house, I can get by with one crutch, and I don't even feel like I'm putting very much weight on it. In fact, I'm super conscious about keeping good posture and walking upright so I don't form any bad habits. Yet, take the crutch away, and my synapses freak out. Or something.

The other major problem we're dealing with is that I still cannot lift my thigh very far, although it's getting better veeeeeeery sloooooowly. Jerry told me that I have to keep trying to lift it, even if it's not moving. It's important for me to send signals to my brain that it needs to send some power down to that area. All these mind exercises are killing me. I've always had an easy time with the physical aspects of the various sports that I've done, but the fact that I'm a basket case was always my downfall. In a few glorious periods where I could get my head screwed on straight, I had some of my best accomplishments, but it was always a struggle. The fact that so much of this rehab is a brain game, and not just powering through by doing lots of squats or spending hours on bicycle is a bit daunting to me, but I at least feel like I'm in good hands.

On a more positive note, I'm pleased that my range of motion is improving. I'm almost able to touch my foot!

And so I continue onward, because that's what people do. They keep on keeping on. The next time I write, I'll be able to give you a full report of what it is like to be in a large lecture hall in front of 80 students teaching on crutches. All the positive thoughts and prayers you can muster up and send my way would be much appreciated.

Learning to Win Again

When I was younger, I was a fairly hard core thrill-seeker. I loved taking risks, pushing the envelope, and going on scary amusement park rides. I couldn't get enough of them. A lot of my thrill-seeking behavior was satisfied by doing gymnastics and, later, diving. These sports are not for people who don't like at least a little bit of an adrenaline rush on a daily basis. Interestingly, because I'm apparently stoic and unemotional on the outside, many of my teammates assumed I was fearless. But the truth is, I was terrified, pretty much every day. I just did shit anyway, because I was young and stupid and somehow got satisfaction out of being scared to the point of wanting throw up, yet doing something anyway. I mean, have you watched gymnastics or diving? You'd have to be an idiot to not be afraid to do that stuff. 

Weirdly enough, the old me cannot relate at all to that young me. Not at all. Like, let's talk about roller coasters. I used to love 'em. Now... not so much. The ups and the downs... I can't stand it. Neither literally nor metaphorically. And that's unfortunate, because I'm on a hell of roller coaster ride right now. I hate to even have to write this, because I was feeling so positive last week, and believe me, I want to keep that positivity going, but at the same time, I want to keep things real. Whether it's for someone out there going through something similar, or whether it's just something for me to look back on someday, I want to document the ups and downs of this crazy ride. 

After my PT appointment last Friday, I was on such a high that I waaaaaaay overdid it. I was seriously thinking I might be walking by the time I had to go back to work on September 11th. I'm embarrassed to even write that. Hello, idiot. To make a long story short, I was so psyched up after last Friday, that I did waaaaay too much, and paid for it. Hell, I'm still paying for it.

Granted, there are people who just come off crutches within a few days and are fine. I read about them on Facebook. The problem is that a lot of them are half my age or less and/or didn't have nearly the level of correction in their surgery as I did. Or they're just the bad asses I can only DREAM of being. Yeah, I know, everyone heals at their own pace and BLAH BLAH BLAH. But I like to be in the top percentile. In everything. And clearly, this is not my reality right now. And it's. killing. me.

This week, I've had to take a serious step back and tame the inner beast in me that HAS TO WALK NOW. Because, for whatever reason, my body doesn't want to walk right now. I've gone through various degrees of anger over this, but my body is being stubborn, and doesn't care how much I scream at it. It's not happening. And as Dr. Terminator's assistant explained, if I force too much too soon, I'll end up with another problem - bursitis, tendinitis, and/or another thing ending in -itis or -osis - that can be just as much of a pain in the ass as oh, a hip sawed into three pieces and screwed back together. So yeah, not into that.

When I saw Jerry on Tuesday, we couldn't even do any 'real' exercises because he had to spend the whole time trying to get my muscles to calm down after the abuse I put them through over the weekend - on both sides. :( He encouraged me to continue my isometric contractions and to keep riding the stationary bike 30 minutes a day, in small chunks. He said it wasn't about getting a cardio workout in; it was about keeping the joint mobile and getting my blood flow going. So three times a day for ten minutes or, even better, six times a day for five minutes would be better than 30 minutes all at once. 

We also worked on my breathing. Jerry told me I should breathe in through my nose for five counts, hold my breath for seven, then breathe out through my mouth for eight. Or, if that was too much to think about, I should make a conscious effort to breathe OUT for twice as long as I breathe in. The rationale behind this is that if you breathe out, certain muscles HAVE to relax. This includes some muscles tied to your diaphragm, which are also important muscles in hip flexion. Now, let me just say that breathing has always been one of those things I've considered like voodoo. I once saw a guy for stress management who was big on belly breathing, and it really did nothing for me other than make me self conscious. So, I'm not totally sold. However, the way Jerry explained it to me made more sense than it ever has, so I'm giving it another shot. Not only did he explain the rationale in scientific terms, but he also said there was a reason so many different activities - e.g., martial arts, yoga, etc. - emphasize breathing. It's real, even if we can't fully understand it. Our bodies are smart. 

Sometimes people ask me if my hips ever hurt when I was younger. Although they did hurt at times, I never paid much attention to them, because a lot of body parts hurt a lot of the time. I never felt like my hips hurt worse than other parts of me. When I was doing sports, it was a given that something was going to hurt, and you managed the pain as well as you could until you got through the next big competition. But the thing is, there is no competition in my future. That goal I'm aiming for - well, it's called the rest of my life. So in addition to retraining my brain how to walk, I also have to retrain my brain how to win. Winning in this case is completely personal. There are no other competitors other than myself. Winning is being able to walk again without pain. It isn't as easy as just grinning and bearing it until the competition is over, or until the roller coaster ride ends.

This is new territory for me. Thanks for bearing with me as I navigate these new, murky waters, and as I strive to redefine everything that has always defined me.

Learning to Walk Again

I have a number of drugs in my arsenal that don't seem to be doing their magic anymore, so I've been struggling with insomnia. It's nothing new; I've struggled with insomnia to varying degrees for my whole life, or at least as long as I can remember. In a bout of insomnia a while ago, I started reading through this blog, and I was really happy I took the time to write out all that I did. It inspired me to try to start writing again. If for nothing else, for me. Writing has always been my outlet, something cathartic for me, but lately it has just seemed like such a chore. So many things that used to give me pleasure just seem like such a chore. I've mentioned that since my surgery, I've just felt so... blah. I need to bust out of that. I think I'm finally ready. So here we go.

Fortunately, I actually have something to write about that's relevant to this blog. I (FINALLY!) had my first PT session on Friday. Dr. Terminator told me that he wanted my first PT session to be with one of his own PTs; however, his assistant (an athletic trainer) hinted to me that she didn't think it was necessary, especially since I live a few hours away. So I ignored Dr. Terminator and set up an appointment with a physical therapist in town my husband had seen for his knee and highly recommended. 

I LOVED him! I think he is going to be a godsend in terms of my recovery. He was extremely thorough and knowledgeable, and spent the entire appointment with me. No aides, no assistants, unlike the last time I did hip PT and spent most of my time with girls straight out of college who know a lot less about physiology than I do. (Though, to be fair, the PT in that case was so mediocre that I actually enjoyed the aides and assistants more than him.) Anyway, I feel confident that Jerry will be able to make up for whatever shortcomings Dr. Terminator may have, and help me get through this rehab. I really, really, really needed this boost right now, and cannot tell you how happy I feel after this appointment. When I finally got a date for my surgeries, I wrote this post, about how I was revved up to kick some ass. I feel so disappointed in myself that I've been sooooo... blaaaaah... during this recovery, and that I've squandered two months of my life doing pretty much nothing. But that's water under the bridge, and it's better late than never, I guess. I really am revved up to kick some ass now. 

I told Jerry my #1 priority right now is walking. I'm so embarrassed that I cannot walk at all without at least one crutch, not even a few steps. I told him I'm not sure if it's that I CAN'T or that I'm too afraid to. My hip feels like this weird body part that isn't mine, that I don't trust. It's totally weird. It's not that it hurts, it's just weird. I was prepared for pain, but not the weirdness. Fortunately, Jerry completely understood what I was talking about and said that walking is a very complex movement involving hundreds of muscles. That's why it takes babies so long to figure it out. Because of the amount of changes that took place during the surgery, I will essentially have to learn how to walk again. And that's no simple task. It is not just a question of regaining strength in my muscles and getting them all to fire at the appropriate time, it's also that the trauma of the surgery has changed the connections between my brain and my muscles, so my proprioception is off, and my brain needs to be retrained. The fact that I don't feel like I can take even one step without crutches could be as much about lack of balance as lack of strength. Of course, I do have significant weakness as well. Jerry told me that it takes twice as long to regain muscle mass as it does to lose it. Also, because even before surgery, I wasn't walking normally, it's even harder. It's not just like getting back up on a bike and riding again; it's like learning to ride a bike and then a unicycle. That made me feel better.

I did a little bit of walking for him, with crutches, and told him that I think my surgeon has a philosophy of two crutches or no crutches; he doesn't like the one crutch thing. (He's never actually told me this, but someone else from my PAO Facebook group informed me of this.) Jerry said he could understand this, as walking with one crutch usually makes you lean toward the crutch side, and can lead to bad habits. However, realistically, there are times when it's just more practical to use one crutch so you can carry things around. I told him my concern was that with two crutches, I was putting less weight on my right side than I actually COULD (enter the literal and metaphorical crutch). He showed me a different way to walk with crutches, where you don't bring both crutches forward at once, but alternate one crutch at a time - so when your right leg goes forward, only the left crutch goes with it, and when your left leg goes forward, only the right crutch goes with it. This helps balance your gait and allows you to put a little more pressure on your weak side without the potential complications of using a single crutch too much. He emphasized that I didn't have to use one technique all the time; I should use a combination of all of them as needed. 

Other highlights, in no particular order:

• He asked what type of exercises, if any, I was doing at home. I told him I hadn't been able to do much because of my restrictions, but that I had started to ride the stationary bike about a week ago, and that I was constantly wiggling my feet around and flexing my leg muscles because I'm naturally fidgety and I can't help it. Even Dr. Terminator and Christian made a note of this when I was still in the hospital, saying it was a good thing. Jerry encouraged me to continue riding the bike with little to no resistance for 20-30 minutes a day, and suggested that I try riding backwards as well, just to use slightly different muscles. He also gave me more specific exercises involving isometric contractions of not just my leg muscles, but also my glutes and my abdominal muscles, to strengthen my core.
• He asked about my pain levels, and I told him that I was happy with them; I'm not in a lot of pain. I do have some pain, but it feels like it is from the incisions and muscles and not from the joint itself. (On a side note, this seemed like Dr. Terminator's top priority - that regardless of all else, the pain from within my joint should be gone, which it is. Which is amazing.) However, I also mentioned that I think I have a fairly high pain tolerance, which has led me to have problems in the past. I told him I've made a conscious effort to exaggerate my pain levels when asked to rate my pain on a pain scale, but sometimes I'm not really sure about my own perceptions. He said he would definitely make a note about that, but that this clinic was definitely NOT a 'no pain, no gain,' clinic; that pain is a message that should be taken very seriously. He said that in the past, pain was viewed only as a sign of damage, but research now shows that there can be pain with no damage, or damage with no pain. The current view of pain is that it can not only be a sign of damage, but also the body's warning signal of impending danger. Either way, he said it was a good thing I have little pain, because many of the people he works with are limited by pain, and that won't be a major issue with me. At the same time, we need to be wary of my higher pain tolerance.
• I told him that one of my biggest sources of pain is on the lateral side of my thigh, where my nerve got messed up. As the feeling comes back, I get weird pains. Christian told me that this was normal, and would likely last for a while, because nerves regenerate at a rate of 1 mm per day from the spinal cord. Jerry said that contrary to what might seem logical, damaged nerves are actually hypersensitive, because as they repair themselves, they are seeking input. So the more I can touch the areas that hurt from nerve pain, the better it will be in the long run in terms of helping to calm down the neurons. They just want attention. The same goes for my itchy scars. I should not hesitate to scratch them, as they are seeking input, and the more 'attention' I can give them in their healing phases, the more they will chill out later. He said it was thanks to a bunch of studies done on rats that we know this. Unfortunately, one of my scars is on my butt, so he agreed I'd have to set time aside for a private scratching session of that one, LOL. He was very excited that I teach biology and he could geek talk with me, and I was very excited that he was knowledgeable enough to geek talk with me.
• We talked about managing what pain I do have and whether or not I should be icing or heating. I never know, and as far as I can tell, there is no strong evidence one way or another. He concurred, and said I should do whatever feels the best. He said current research suggests that no matter what - ice or heat - blood flow to the area will increase after 20 minutes, so you should do what feels best. He said that our own bodies are smarter than any research that is out there. :) 
• I also let him know that my left side is also bad, and that we will need to protect it while rehabbing my right side. I said my left side was not as severe as my right side, and had been asymptomatic until PT messed it up. I told him I would be getting the left side fixed soon, and that I wanted to make it as functional and pain-free as possible. 

So, I left feeling energized. I've been riding the stationary bike as much as I can and practicing walking the different ways we talked about. I have been mostly using just one crutch because freeing up one hand to carry things is amazing. However, I have been very conscious about not leaning into the crutch and mostly just using it for balance. As much as I can, I practice walking in front of the full length mirror so I can be confident in my posture. In just the past 24 hours, I'm amazed at the progress I've been able to make, and am feeling far less anxiety about returning to work in just over a week.

Second Post-Op Visit

Yesterday I had my highly anticipated, been-keeping-me-awake-at-night, follow-up appointment with my surgeon. It has been 7.5 (very long) weeks since my labral repair and microfracture, and 6.5 (very long) weeks since my PAO. You can bet that I've been counting the days and knew that the day of the solar eclipse was officially six weeks post-surgery #1, and that Christian had told me that I could start putting some weight on my right side at six weeks. So I started that week, even though technically I wasn't cleared to do so, because jeez. Patience is not my greatest virtue; in fact, it's probably one of my biggest weaknesses, and OMGTHEREISONLYSOMUCHOFTHISICANTAKE. And anyway, I didn't try full weight bearing. I just started standing with both legs down, which I know from my previous hip PT is considered 50% weight bearing. Also, instead of crutching around holding my leg up, I started actually walking with crutches, to at least get my leg used to the motion again and retrain my brain. (Seeeeeee, I know a little bit about physiology.)

I felt pretty good about jumping the gun slightly because I figured I'd be in pain if I were doing too much, and I actually feel very little pain. Still, I was nervous that if things didn't look good, Dr. Terminator might chew me out for messing up his work. LOL. When he came in, the first thing he asked about was the eclipse, haha. Then he got right down to business and told me everything looked fine. The healing is going well, or well enough at least, and I now am officially cleared to start weight bearing as tolerated. Of course, this came with a lecture about how 'cleared to do' does not mean 'can actually do' or even 'should do.' (Did I look like I was ready to ditch the crutches and sprint out of there?!) I have to use the crutches until I can walk without a limp, which I currently can't do at all, even for one or two steps, so it could still be another month or more before my crutch burning party. (Oh wait, they're metal. And I still have to do my left side. Never mind.)

I had a few specific concerns, the first being that I have lost a ton of range of motion (ROM) in my hip. I still cannot touch my foot, and I'm still using my old lady contraption to put my socks on and wearing my slip-on clogs everywhere, which is frustrating. I mean, I realize I will no longer be able to wrap my legs around my head, but I would like to at least be able to put my shoes and socks on! I was worried Dr. Terminator had actually over corrected me. Yes, that's a real thing. And I know from one of Dr. Terminator's patients that it actually happened to her, so it wasn't pure paranoia. Dr. Terminator assured me that my ROM will come back eventually; I just need to be patient. (There's that damn concept again. I hate it.) He said that he tested my ROM during the surgery, and it is there, it's just that my body doesn't want to bend like that right now.

The second concern I had was that I still can't really flex my thigh. So when I'm getting into bed or even into the car, I have to use my arms to lift my leg up. I can lift it enough to move my foot from the gas to the brake when I'm driving, which by the way, I started to do on August 22nd. (I only remember the exact date because it's my son's birthday, and I was so excited that I wanted to post about it on Facebook, only I had to wait, because posting about me driving before posting pictures of my son's birthday party would make me a bad mom.) But even just the little bit of lifting from driving is tiring, which limits me to short trips around town. I still needed my husband to take me to this appointment two hours away.

I had a feeling this wasn't really normal because when I inquired about it to my PAO group on Facebook, no one really responded. I understand some loss of function is normal because of the muscles that got detached and reattached during surgery, and even the ones that didn't get detached got traumatized, and this is a major surgery and blah blah blah. But apparently it's NOT normal that I can barely lift my leg at all. Basically my loss of function is the worst Dr. Terminator has seen. I believe his exact words were, Some weakness is normal, but I've never seen it THIS bad before. Um, lucky me. With so much of what I've experienced, I've been assured that it's all normal, it will get better, I just need to be patient. So when I demonstrated to Dr. Terminator just how much I cannot lift my leg, and he twisted his mouth into a frustrated little scowl of shock and awe, I knew it wasn't normal.

The only good news is that there doesn't appear to be any major damage to the muscles - like a torn muscle, or a muscle that accidentally didn't get reattached. The fact that I can pull my leg up when I'm lying down means that the muscle function is there, it's just that the muscles are insanely weak, too weak to overcome the force of gravity. This explains why the function diminishes the more upright I get. Dr. Terminator came to the conclusion that because of the extent of the correction he had to make to my hip joint, there is a lot of irritation to my hip flexors while the bone heals, and they are just super pissed off right now. I will need to work extra hard on this during rehab. And be patient. So there we go again.

In other news, Dr. Terminator felt confident I would be able to ski by December, and told me not to cancel my ski pass. We bought them way back when, because they are cheaper if buy them early, but you can bet we splurged on the insurance, so I could get a refund if necessary. I asked him about screw removal, and he told me he didn't want me to worry about that right now. He said he normally takes the screws out six months post-PAO, which would put it in December. However, he said it didn't have to be then; we could wait until the end of ski season, if I wanted. But even if he did it in December, I'd be able to ski within a week because he can pull the screws out through a very tiny hole, and the gaps fill in with blood and are stable. So that is something to look forward to/work toward. In the end, Dr. Terminator counseled me to stay in the present and focus on the task at hand, which is getting my muscles to work again and being able to walk. Baby steps. And patience.

All in all, I'm feeling hopeful and nervous at the same time. I have to go back to work the week after next, which adds a whole new dimension of stress that merits an entry of its own. However, I started physical therapy today - which also merits an entry of its own - and I will work hard to make as much progress as I can in the next 10 days. I'll try to take Dr. Terminator's advice and focus on each immediate task at hand. And be patient.