One More Surgery???

So it seems as though I have gotten myself into a little predicament here. Unfortunately, this week I am faced with a pretty tough decision that feels like it will affect every step I take for the rest of my life.

The days after my surgery quickly passed. The days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and I realized I wasn’t getting better. In fact I was getting much worse. It got to the point where I was not walking anywhere, was sending text to my loved ones say “THROBBING PAIN”,  and I was wishing I could take back my surgery. The surgery that was supposed to make me feel better. Of course, I decided this wasn’t normal and I needed to head back to my doctor.

My doctor took Xrays and Cat scans and the whole orderal. He found that the smaller bone in my ankle (fibula) rebroke without the support of the plates. This happened because apparently (news to me) it wasn’t fully healed when he took the plates out and so (even though I was cleared to do to these things) my weight from walking, biking, and running (once) rebroke the bone. 

So here are my options:

      

           A.     Wait it out. Use 1-2 crutches for a month or two and bare the pain. Hoping my bone will grow back on its own without a plate. 

         B.     Get surgery next week (sep 11) and get a small but permanent plate back into my ankle.

 Well, it’s really easier to be angry here and spend all day placing

blame on people. Whose fault is it that my bone rebroke? I can replay everything I did and everything my doctor said over and over in my head if that’s what I choose to do. But, what good what that do? Would blaming my doctor make me feel better? No. Would blaming myself make me feel better? Definitely not.

Life is life and shit happens. You can’t predict or control what will happen next. One minute your catching a cab home and the next thing you know you and your life is upside down. All you can do is get through it the best you can.  If I wait it out and hope my bone will heal it will be ok. even if my bone doesn’t heal it will still be ok. If I have surgery next week to get a permanent plate that will also be ok.  And for now, ok is just going to have to be good enough. The day will come when this will all be behind me and I can look back and me be really proud of myself. But today is not that day. Not yet. And that’s ok too.

6 Months 3 Surgeries Later

After training for marathons and running 50 miles per week I was  handed a piece of paper with a list of exercises I could do.  The list  included moving my ankle and down and scrunching  my toes in and out. I didn't think it could get much more depressing. I was wrong.  


After working on that crap for 2 hrs a day for 6 months and progressing so  much past toe scrunching getting handed that same damn paper again is beyond depressing, it's demoralizing.

The surgery went well and according to plan  but I was back to pain meds and wrapped up in bandages for a couple weeks. The surgery and bandages caused me to lose alot of range of motion again and the pain meds caused me to puke alot (all over my mom one morning)

It's safe to say now I will not being running the NYC marathon this November. You and everyone else who is reading this is thinking "duh Sarah, I could have told you that months ago." but while it was obvious to you, I held onto that hope until Saturday. Saturday I  defied my Physical therapist and ran 2 miles which left me in physical and mental tears for the rest of  weekend. Good times for everyone around me. Not sure if my mom preferred that or the vomit.

So here's the attitude I should have "omg I'm already off crutches! so exciting! I don't have any metal in my leg! I am so so lucky!!!!! There's no metal poking me when I walk yayyyy! I can walk 10 blocks without pain. I am such a rockstar!"

Don't get me wrong I am so happy and relieved about all of those things. Seriously. Just like everyone who tells me I should be happy to be alive. Right, I'm happy the car didn't kill me and I'm still a breathing human. But really, just six months ago walking and breathing seemed like givens and I remember those times a bit too often.

Walking and breathing are great. I will wake up everyday and look at my crutches and thank god I'm finally done with them. And maybe  I'm asking alot here given everything that's happened but I just want to be able to do what I love. I don't really care what the odds are anymore. I know myself and I know I will not give up... I will not give up...I will not give up...

Surgery Tomorrow

I sat in the doctors office today for 2 and a half anxious hours surrounded by a complete freak show. I can only call the people in the orthopedic surgeons office freaks because I was (am) one of them. Canes, crutches, walkers, wheelchairs, limp they had it all. In the last 6 months I have used all of the above at one point or another. Just whe I felt like I was done, the finish line was in sight, my doctor tattooed his initials, DGL, with permanent marker onto the longest scar along my leg. 

 I knew exactly what it meant. That was the first thing he did when he saw me in the emergency room 6 months ago.  He explained my next surgery, the removal of plates, will be tomorrow at 7am.  Anywhere between 0-2 nights in the hospital and I can ease myself off crutches when ready.  2 weeks of no exercise and then freedom to do anything I want. According to him, “it’s a piece of cake.”

Last year on July 31 I was standing at the starting line of the San Francisco marathon with one goal in sight: Boston. I needed to run the San Fran marathon and break my PR to run boston. This year on July 31 I need to undergo another serious surgery to run Boston. But Boston’s not the only goal in sight anymore. There are other goals that are even more important now. Like learning to appreciate everything I can do and everyone I have around me.  And how about walking without a limp? That would be nice too. 

Decisions

When I woke up this morning I lay there for a long time debating if I should really get up to go to the gym. I lay there dreading the walk from the bedroom to the bathroom. A total of about 10 steps. When I wake up in the morning walking hurts more than usual. I get pain from my shin to the  bottom of my heel because it's pretty stiff.

While I lay there trying to decide if I really had to bare this pain yet I thought about what I should do to work out today. I ran through list of options elliptical, bike (w out standing unless I want more pain tomorrow), row, cross fit , or some combination of two. These options made me strongly consider the option of turning  off my alarm  and staying in bed for awhile longer.

I guess I should probably tell you I'm not currently able to run. If you've been following my progress you know that about a month ago I ran one mile and felt pretty good while running.

Well, the real story is I spent the next 2 weeks paying for it. I went back to an awful limp, shin splints, IT band knee pain, and lower back issues. Basically, I went out too soon and every other part of my body over compensated for my weakness from the knee down. 

So can I bare the pain of running for 10 minutes? Yes. Is it worth it right now? NO. Not an easy decision to make. A decision I have to remake everyday.

Instead, In physical therapy I am now working on the Alter G, anti gravity treadmill, where I put 50 percent of my weight on it and the rest is lifted by the air of the treadmill.  Cool Video on The Anti Gravity Treadmill 

Before actually deciding to go back go sleep I looked at my phone. Monday, July 16. I instantly realized I was exactly 2 weeks away from my pre op appointment. 15 days from having everything out of my ankle. I finally felt like  I was on the home stretch. Yes, my next surgery will be a step back. But every marathoner slows down around mile 17. You have to slow down at some point if you want to finish strong.

With that last bit of hope, I decided to get out of bed.

The First Mile

5 years ago after my first year of college I had put on the freshman 15 (and then some) along with being dumped.  This left me sitting on my front porch so lost, depressed, and unconfident. I looked down at my old Nike sneakers that I had originally bought for style and decided I would go for a run. It seemed to be a solution to all my problems. I made it one mile and literally thought I might die the entire time. Yet at the end of the run I felt better.

Today, I found myself in the same place on my porch. This time I luckily hadn't been dumped but I had lost something that hurt just as bad. Looking down at my untoned injured body I still found myself feeling lost, depressed, and unconfident. I looked down at my mizuno wave rider 14s that I had bought for shape, arch support, weight, and speed. I decided to do the one thing I knew how to do to make myself feel better, run. I ran that exact same first mile again.

Since the accident I always wondered if when I got back to it would I be starting from scratch or would I have some of my muscle memory left? I still don't really have the answer. While my ankle throbbed, the pins caused horrible shin splits, and there was a shooting pain all the way into my IT band, I still ran a very solid pace and didn't break a sweat. With that being said, I dont think I could have made it step further. One more surgery and all that pain will go away, right?

I ran to feel confident, I ran to be happy, I ran to problem solve, I ran to cool anxiety, I ran to stay fit, I ran to distract myself, I ran to feel better, I ran to be better,  I ran to win.

As painful as it might be mentally and physically--  every time I run I feel myself getting all of those things back a little bit more.

We've got LOTS to celebrate.

At 3:30 PM Monday afternoon my doctor shook my hand and said, "Sarah, you had a terrible injury and you have recovered incredibly well."


I wanted to think to myself "of course I did, I always knew I would do my part."  But in reality, him telling me that I had progressed better than others and came back from such a bad injury is what I had been needing and hoping to hear for months. The firm handshake, the  sincere  words, and overall enthusiasm from my doctor was my confirmation that I really could do it. 


According to him, due to my progress, I am able to spend the next two months "pounding away" because no matter what I can do I can no longer damage my ankle. My physicaly therapist is going to hold me off on running for a bit longer. Another day without running when I know I can't hurt myself seems unbearable. But it's the long term need for complete and full recovery to get my distance and pace back that keeps from stepping off the elyptical and onto the tredmil everyday.


He also allowed me to schedule my last surgery to remove those metal things sticking out of my ankle that cause severe shin splints. First week of August, in an out, quick recovery. done.


When I got home I threw my aircast in the corner of my closet, along with my crutches, boot, splint, ankle cranker, and ankle weights. I am not going to be modest. Today, I felt proud. So proud.


When I have fully recovered (because I know I will) after the surgery I am going to have a huge "recovery/thank you for your support party." Your invite? Reading this blog.  We've got LOTS to celebrate. 

A Long Road Home

Last Memorial Day weekend I found myself in the Hamptons. This weekend consisted of me waking up at dark hours of the morning to do a 17 mile training run on the water, which I loved every second of. My run left me feeling free and confident on the beach followed by caloriless beer and fun aggressive late nights.

For this years Memorial Day weekend, I had made a goal to run my first mile or two. It would mark the four weeks when my doctor told me I would be allowed to do "whatever I want." My goal was then altered my my physical therapist when she told me that realistically I won't be running till I have no pain walking. Unfortunately, I am yet to take one step without a limp or pain.

This Memorial Day weekend I found myself at Figawi in Nantucket, pushing through people in a bar trying not to get toppled over in search of a place to sit down. After an hour had passed and all the blood had rushed to my ankle there was no where to sit or a table to lean up against. Without a 17 miler, or even a single mile in 3 month I was feeling beyond tense. My boyfriend and a few friends left the bar realizing it wasn't the best of situations. The situation was made worse when there were no open cabs.

And after another hour of standing and trying to hail a cab, we bit the bullet and decided that the only option was to walk.... walk the 2 miles home.

How did I walk 2 miles home? I didn't. My boyfriend carried me on his back the entire way. His idea.

We are defined and create our identities by MOMENTS of IMPACT. In 5 years I will not remember the 17 mile run and night I had in the Hamptons last year. But I can garentee that for the rest of my life I will tell the story about the boy who cared enough to give me a piggy back ride all the way home.

Clearly, the road to recovery is much longer than I could have ever imagined. But luckily all these defining moments in between will make every step worth it.