Here... Take Your Life Back.

            Every single time I go to the doctors they hand me this stupid 10 page survey to fill out. Theres about 100 questions about my range of motion, pain, and activitly level.  And then you turn to the last page and they stop asking you about your injury and instead your emotion state. Clearly, they are trying to collect data about traumatic injuries effecting emotional state. Unfortunately every time I have to honestly admit and remind myself I haven’t been as happy or as they put it “peppy” since the accident.

       On Monday, November 12^th everything changed. I was prepared to hear “Sarah, like I predicted, we need to operate on Thursday and put a permanent plate in your leg.” Here’s how that translates in my life, probably would have to drop my NYU classes and start them again next semester, another 2 weeks of from work, weeks of pain killers, hospital rooms, and puking, and last but certainly not least, pain if I ever choose to run again. Awesome, a perfect diagnosis for success, happiness, and what they would call “pep,” In preparation for this I had not made Thanksgiving, Christmas, or any plans. When my friends would text me about the holidays and my plans I just wouldn’t respond, because I really didn’t know what to say. When my boyfriend tried to plan a trip for the holidays, I pushed back because who knew what state I would be in or what I would be able to do.

    Instead, what my doctor saw was what he considered “A HEALED BONE.”  Which means “if you don’t mess this up by running again, we won’t have to operate and in no time you will be free to run and do anything you would like”  (at this point I probably should have punched him because he was blaming me for rebraking my ankle, but  let’s focus on the positive)

         Ok, so if you look at the XRAY you are probably thinking the same thing as me—That doesn’t look healed at all. Well, you’re right. It’s actually not completely healed, but according to a surgeon it is close enough to healed that surgery is not the right choice and it will heal on its own. So the slight pain I have is nothing to worry about and will go away with time. It’s actually the best news he could have possibly given me.  And with that explanation, I swear he placed my life back into my hands. No, I can’t do everything I want yet. but who the fuck cares? I WILL BE ABLE TO. Even now, from this partial healing I can bike (30 miles!), go out, use the subway, and celebrate Thankgiving without being drugged on pain meds. I may even pass my classes.

         I spent this weekend just living my life like any other person but with a little extra celebration of the great news. And let me tell you – I most certainly had my “pep” back. 

A Non Unison Bone

HOW TO FORCE A NON UNISON BONE TO TURN INTO ONE COMPLETE BONE

(incase you ever have a bone that decides to stop growing)

  1)   After your doctor tells you have one, google what it is.

  2)   Accept that you have a very small chance of actually growing your bone together yourself without surgery. 

  3)   Decide you’ll try anyway.

  4)   Beg your doctor to give your bone a little more time before he actually declares it “dead” 

  5)   Take 3 doses of calcium a day (yeah, a grandma osteoporosis dosage)

   6)   Swim

  7) Water aerobics (while I’m there I can compare calcium dosages with the other grandmas)

   8)    take cabs when it swells

  9)   Walk on FLAT surfaces in flat shoes

  10)    Take elevators 

  11)  Rest, calm down, and accept that you can’t be as active as you used/want to be.

  12)  Accept who and where you are right now.

  13)   Don’t run (or bike or elyptical, or jump, or lunge, or anything else that would possibly create any endorphins)

  14)    Wait.   

  15)     Try on a thing called patience. It might look good on you.

According to the doctor today, in 6 weeks if my bone is still separated I’ll be back in the hospital with a metal plate in my leg for thanksgiving. In which case, I’m sure I’ll find something to be thankful for. I always do, right? 

Adjustment

I’ve learned something very interesting through out all of this. Something I am not sure I would have realized before.

With time, human beings are able to adjust.

7 months ago having to deal with crutches and boots or aircasts seemed like a nightmare. Now it just feels normal.

7 months ago having to take a cab everywhere seemed pretty terrible. Now, I don’t even think about it.

7 months ago being kept awake by my pain in my ankle was depressing and tiring. Now, it’s just how I sleep.

7 months ago my scars on my leg felt out of place and embarrassing. Now, it’s just me. My biography. 

7 months ago having to go to PT 3 times a week was a huge pain in my ass. Now, it’s a community of friends.

There’s still one thing though… Every time I walk outside with my head phones in and gym clothes on my body tells me to turn right and start jogging down towards the east river. Everytime, without fail, my body and mind thinks that’s what I’m about to do. But it’s not. Instead I remind myself that I am going to go to the gym to try and find something I can do.

Not being able to take that right turn, press play on my shuffle, and jog to the east river does not feel normal. And I hope I never adjust. 

Bone Growth Party!

      On Friday afternoon I went back to the hospital for my 4^th Pre Op appointment. My fourth surgery was scheduled for Tuesday. My doctor handed me the papers to sign (again) and I handed them right back without a signature. I asked him to take another x-ray. To give it a second look because my leg really felt better. The swelling had gone down as well as the pain and bruising. He walked back in the room after checking the xray and said 

 “Sarah, forget surgery for now I think you’re growing this bone.”

I was so happy I jumped off the doctor’s bed onto my feet, pump fisted the air, and screamed in excitement. He emotionlessly told me to sit back down and reminded me that knowing my bones, jumping up and down would probably break them.

Long story short if I can cool my jets and sit still for the next month before my next doc appointment he thinks(hopes) my bone will have grown back and he can officially call off surgery. So, you can keep your fingers crossed for me and I will just sit here… patiently. Trust me, 7 months later I’ve developed enough patience for a lifetime.

My recovery party was scheduled for Saturday. While some told me to cancel it, I just decided to turn it into a bone growth party. What happened last night way pretty amazing. Friends and family traveled from all over to celebrate the last 7 months. It was without question the most fun I had since the accident.

      When taking a moment this evening to let it all sink  I felt like everything hit me all at once. Everything that has happened started to bring me to tears (yeah, this crying thing is literally a whole new me).  More than anything though, I think I was really crying because of everything everyone has 

 done for me. Through out this entire process so many people have done such extraordinary things in such different ways. I know if I need another surgery I will have amazing people around me to support me. I know if running isn’t in my future (which it will be) I will have so many people to fall back on. Everything that happened over the last 7 months is extreme and hard to deal with.  But what’s even more extreme knowing just how amazing and supportive the people in my life really are. More than I could have ever imagined before. And for that, I feel really lucky. 

             

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.