Two steps forward, One step back

At the start of this week I was the most  relieved I had felt in a long time. Being able to walk was the best news because it released me to do so many more things. Yet, I had this little voice in the back of my head reminding me that though this is a step forward it will be really painful. I decided to ignore that little voice and dive into this headfirst.

On Monday..

I took the subway which included so much walking to and from.

I took my students to recess again so much walking

I lost the crutch whenever I was inside

I increased the time on the bike

By Friday...

I was crying at yelling at my boyfriend when he was trying to help me parallel park. Was I yelling because I suck at parallel parking? No, that's old news. I was just yet again, in so much pain. Which he of course, yet again, understood.

If you take a look at that XRAY you might start to understand why this feels so bad with every step I take. The screws which you can really see at the bottom of my ankle really hurt when I take a step. This leaves me with a really unattractive painful limp.

By Sunday...

I had spent the weekend in the pool. I walked back and forth back and forth back and forth. With no limp. I pool ran back and forth back and forth back and forth. Really slowly. I swam back and forth back and forth back and forth. 

Walking definitely still hurts, but not as bad. Which leaves me hope that next week the pain will be more barable and the limp will slowly go away. The idea that this is painful process isn't going away anytime soon is slowly sinking in. For the longest time I believed that as soon as I was off crutches I would be back to normal and walking perfectly. And at the start of this week I was still believing as soon as they released me to run and I would be running, like usual. But that too will be a slow painful process. 

Now that I've accepted that I think it will come with a little more ease and less of my own push back and denial of my own pain. I might actually start to listen to that voice in my head. And in the meantime I won't be crossing off the days till I can do it again because now I know it won't come all at once. With that said, I'm going to pool, to run.

Light at the end of the tunnel

Sometimes all the good stuff happens in one day.  

Today was one of those days....

 1) Talked to a new resident about my injury, and he gave me much more time and thought than my usual doctor. Not to mention he was really sexy. MMMMMMM

2) My grumpy, wordless, less sexy doctor told me to walk on my toes and heels and I was able to do it.

3)   He released me to walk with all my weight. Having one crutches at times and no crutches at other WOOOOOOOW FREEEDOM!!!!! Note the video!

4)   According to the doctor in 5 weeks, I will be released to do “whatever I want” (and we all know what I WANT to do)

5) My doctor and PT both expressed such excitement and shock with how much I had progressed in the short amount of time.

6)  I  got cupcakes, donuts, and new summer short shorts to celebrate

7)  BAA emailed me just to confirm I will be running Boston next year. Thanks for the reminder, I almost forgot.

8) I cried with my mom because I was HAPPY. I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. For the first time.

I felt more happy and relieved today than I ever have finishing any race in my life. The marathon I’m running right now is so much more challenging than anything in my past. Every major mile marker is a huge accomplishment. 

The Ultimate Pesimist

Dear Google,

I wanted to thank you for always being so pessimistic. Whenever I am feeling the slightest bit of hope about my situation I know I can always count on you to give me the worst possible outcome that's headed my way.

I especially like when you tell me about runners with screws and plates in their ankle who can not run further than a 10K. Or when you discuss the pain of the screws poking runners.

You never fail to give me a solution to that problem that you already predicted I will have. It's so helpful when you tell me that getting the hardware removed won't be a problem. Just major holes in my bones and recovery all over again.

Currently you have supplied me enough information to self diagnose myself with a deadly blood clot. Not your typical muscle strain like my physical therapist, you must have it right with a fatal diagnosis. How can I thank you enough?

My friends like you too, because they can find out more about my condition. Leaving them with gruesome pictures and hopeless results.

I've always known you would tell me all of these pessimistic things which is why I resisted you since the accident. But this weekend you were just too tempting. And I was right about you before I started. You and me, we don't work well together right now.

Tomorrow at my doctors appointment I will tell my surgeon about you and your pessimism. I am sure he will reassure me that I should have never started this and I probably won't see you anymore. Problem is, you're kind of addicting so it will take some self control.

In all seriousness though, Google, thanks for letting me know how many people view and search my blog and leading them my way. It's impossible for me not to be optimistic about that . At the end of the day though, I take
majority of the credit.

Thanks again,

The Optimist

Grocery Shopping

              

There are many things I’ve had to learn to do on my own that I wasn’t originally able to do on crutches. One thing I was yet to do without help was go grocery shopping. I used to call up someone up and have them walk around the grocery store holding my grocery basket and grabbing the things I asked them to get.

I’ve always had this “I can do it myself” attitude about me. This need to be this independent person. And somewhere along the way, with good reason, I lost that attitude. I kind of gave it up. I had to teach myself to ask people to do things for me. Now--- I’m teaching myself to get the attitude back.

So today, I went to the grocery store BY MYSELF. Getting your groceries while crutching consists of

1) Putting both crutches under one armpit and holding the basket in the open hand (don’t tell my PT, I’m always supposed to have both on either side)

2) Putting the basket down in each isle so I could crutch and carry what I need.

3) Handing the basket to the cashier and ask him to unload it for you

4) Putting all your groceries in one bag and throwing the bag over your shoulder for the walk home.

In my second surgery they put three metal plates in my shin and ankle. I clearly woke up in excruciating pain.  The nurse put me on a very high dosage of morphine. After a period of drooling and nonsense she realized that she had given me too much. She pulled me from the morphere and gave me pills that she then realized I couldn’t keep down. Moral of the story I was on no pain meds after an extremely intense surgery. At that point there was nothing anyone could do. I had to figure out and get through that pain myself. I closed my eyes and laid there, completely internalized everything. I didn’t speak, I just layed trying to ride it out.

My mom held my hand but SHE couldn’t take the pain away. My doctor can allow me to put weight down but HE wont be the one to get my ankle moving again. My PT can give me exercises to do but she won't be the one to get me back on the tredmil. My boss  can tell me I don’t have to walk the students to recess but he won't be the one to take the limp away in my walk.  My boyfriend can tell my I’m pretty but he won't be the one to make me believe it when people stare. My friends can tell me I’m determined and I’ll get through it, but THEY wont be the ones to do the work of getting there. All of those things, they’re on me. Don’t get me wrong, all of the support is extremely helpful and I would never be where I am today without it. But getting to the first starting line and more importantly the to the finish… that’s all on me. And let me tell you, it’s terrifying.

Marathon Monday

          Marathon Monday was the first day it hit me that I actually wasn’t running the marathon. It hit me harder then the full speed cab hitting my leg. This feeling hit me as soon as I threw on the “2012 Boston Marathon" shirt.  From that point forward the day consisted of obsessively watching the marathon online, tracking the runners I knew, crying when no one was looking, and having the absolute worst attitude in physical therapy. This was also the day my physical therapist explained to me that even when I can put 100 percent weight down, I will still need my crutches for awhile after. Right… It doesn’t make sense to me either.  All in all, it was the hardest day yet. 

        On Tuesday I realized how much physical progress I was making.  Marathon Monday was the first day that I could take steps forward without the plates poking me. I was so caught up feeling bad for myself I didn’t even notice. Since then I am walking so much quicker and am in much less pain. I am even having Tylenol free days! I have doubled my minutes on the bike and tripled the milage.

The 2012 marathon is now behind me. Along with many other marathons, The 2013 Boston Marathon is now ahead. I will never get there with the terrible attitude I had on Marathon Monday. It’s time to move forward emotionally, not just physically.  Really though, I think those things go hand in hand. My ankle feeling so good after feeling so bad makes it so easy for me to believe that my running career, along with everything else, has only just begun. 

A Little Bit of Sunshine

When I asked BAA (boston athletic association) if I can defer my entrance for a year they said "no, too many runners get running injuries." So, I politely responded and explained that this was no running injury and I was actually hit by a moving vehicle. Their answered remained no.

UNTIL YESTERDAY. I can officially defer my acceptance and run next years marathon because of the heat (88 degrees). NOT because of a deadly cab driver, but because of a bit of sunshine. Whatever, i'll take it. I was debating if I was going to run anyways. The weather was REALLY the deciding factor.

This was definitely the best news I have received in 2 months. I went to the expo with a smile on my face (almost) and picked up my number. I partied with my friends and had a great time. Crutch danced, hopped, played the guess what happened to me game. All that good stuff.

After my first surgery I was home for 5 days before I went back into the hospital. During this period I could do literally nothing on my own. I was physically incompetent. Taking 5 steps from my bed to my chair was a struggle. But I got through it with so much support. Though I am no longer physically incompetent (even though I felt it a bit on the Penn Station floor) I would not have made it through this weekend without the same amount of emotion support.

To all of you runners who are powering through the heat tomorrow-- you're incredible. Good luck. I'll see you at the starting line next year. I'm all in.

The Penn Station Floor

This coming Monday, April 16th, is the 2012 Boston Marathon. I will not be running. That is not the easiest pill to swallow. This is not going to be the easiest weekend. No matter where I am or what I will be doing I will be thinking about what I WOULD be doing if I was running on Monday.

I have decided that this weekend, I will go to Boston. Why the heck would you go to Boston to just be reminded of it you might ask.. Well, I want my bib number and my t-shirt. I earned it. And I worked really fucking hard to get it. Plus, who better to ease the pain then my boyfriend and best friends?

To get to Boston this weekend I decided to take the usual 7PM acela train that I used to take with ease every other weekend. But today, it was much harder. I couldn't get out of work right at 6 when the kids leave because it takes me much longer to do things like pick up the classroom. I couldn't take the quick express subway directly to penn station. I had to take the cab in friday afternoon traffic. And once I got to the station I couldn't run to my gate, I had to crutch.

Even though I threw in the crutch hop, I still missed my train. And right then and there, I felt so helpless and weak. I sat on the concrete floor of Penn Station, called my mom, and cried. Sobbed actually. Something I would have never been caught dead doing before. I wasn't crying because I missed my train. I was crying because I was so emotionally and physically exhausted.

I know I am brave and I know I have courage. But somedays, most days, this is really hard, and being that brave and keeping my head up is really hard. It's a constant conscious effort. I'll get through it, this I know. Time will pass, but for now -- damn, this is hard and I am prepared for this weekend to be that much harder.

PS -- Don't worry. I got another train. Let's be real. I wouldn't let a stupid train keep me from that bib number and t shirt.