I think you all know this by now, but I'm going to say it anyway.... I'm stubborn. Sometimes to a fault.
For the last four years, I have avoided getting a shower chair. It was that last bit of "normal" I wasn't quite ready to give up, I guess. I fully admitted I needed one and happily used the benches at hotels or friends' houses. I just couldn't bring myself to get one. Until I had to.
With my currently broken/sprained/torn foot and ankle, I told my doctor that showers were officially torture because standing was waaaaay too hard. She stared at me for a moment before asking why I don't have a shower chair.... I didn't have a good answer so she thought it was money related, but I mentioned they were only about $30. Making it obvious I just didn't get one.
Then I told just the right friend when she asked how I was doing; she had a chair I could borrow for a while.. get me through this injury and hopefully convince my stubborn brain that this is best for me.
Well... a few weeks later and I'm convinced. I no longer dread taking a shower or wonder if I should just sit down in the tub or negotiate with my hip before, during, or after.
Still can't say I'm happy about it though, it feels too much like giving up. Just like when I got the crutches, which I still consider a necessary evil, I still wonder if I was right to get them. But also if I was right to wait so long. To wonder what damage I could have caused or saved. To admit that less stubborn voice in my head was right, after all.
That voice that apparently knows what's best for me, but has to give me time to accept it. Wether I like it or not!
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Saturday, December 3, 2016
A Peaceful Moment
I found this place quite a few years ago when I was having problems with my family. I would wander the Hayward and San Leandro shorelines for hours, just to avoid being at home. One day, I headed off the main path and found this. It's called Hayward Landing.. our very own glass beach. At first glance, everything was broken here and I felt like I fit in. I stood at that furthest point, practically in the water and just let the world continue on without me, watching the water rush by. When I finally looked around at shards of glass and broken pottery at my feet, I realized that nothing was broken here. All the pieces had become something new. A part of something new. Their edges had been smoothed by their journey to this resting spot, and made it a peaceful place for me.
I eventually realized that I wasn't broken either. I was just still working on some of my edges.
My runs after work took me here, either to pass by with a smile or to stop for a moment and let the peace wash over me again. I came here to say goodbye to my aunt since I couldn't make it to the funeral. When I had to stop running, I still walked here for as long as I could.. then found a shorter path when I couldn't anymore. And it took a few weeks to finally go, but the first time I pushed myself out there with Saber was to say goodbye to my brother; I pushed as far as I could, then walked out to that point to let the water rush past me again. I was even surrounded by a small flock of birds that I am convinced were just for me.
Today was the first time I had been out in quite some time... I've been feeling unsettled lately and something inside said this was the solution. I can't go out nearly as far as before, but there's still something peaceful about sitting as far out as possible and letting the world pass me by. To watch the water rush past. To look at the pieces that have found a new home. A new place to belong. At least for the moment.
And once again, I realized that I'm not quite as lost as I feel. That I'm simply trying to settle into a place where I truly belong.
Monday, September 19, 2016
My 1st Overnight Hospital Stay
Yes, you read that right. With all of my doctor visits, surgeries, injuries, and ER visits, I have never stayed in the hospital overnight. Until now.
A week and a half ago, I had a dull pain in my abdomen; mostly in the middle just below my sternum, but also a bit radiating down my right side. I wasn't sick and I wasn't in a lot of pain, I was mostly uncomfortable (although it was recently pointed out that my "dull" pain is probably on par with anyone else's "sharp" pain), so I still went to wheelchair basketball, but ended up sitting out the last game and leaving early because while I was okay during the games, I felt horrible whenever we stopped. It went on like that through the night so I called the advice nurse in the morning; after talking to her for a bit, something I said made her stop her questions and tell me to go to the ER.
Despite being upset, I wasn't worried and drove myself to the ER and signed in, waited for triage. My lack of concern, but appearance of tears seems to have confused the nurses... what do you do with someone who burst into tears while checking, then laughed with the triage nurse as they remember anything that may or may not be relevant? But let me explain. I've been sent to the ER with abdominal pain twice before; once turned out to be a bad bladder infection, the other was kidney stones. I figured something like that and I would be sent home with various prescriptions.
I was sent to pee in a cup and told to go to a new waiting area because they didn't have a bed for me. Eventually, I was put into a small examination room, where the ER doctor did a quick exam then went to find the ER's ultrasound.... which happens to probably be the original ultrasound. I'm pretty sure they kicked it at some point just to get it to turn on correctly. Some concerned noises later, the doctor says there's something wrong with my gallbladder aaaaaaaaand suddenly there's a bed for me! And a nurse, and someone to take my blood for tests, and an IV, and my first experience with fentanyl.
But I digress. My blood was taken pretty easily, the IV was a whole other story. The nurse finally got it in my arm, but it hurt so she tried my hand; the vein blew, so she went over to the other hand and questioned if I was dehydrated (definite possibility), but this one was a success. While she had been working on that, she kicked out a transport guy saying she'd let them know when I was ready and then reassured me the rest of the time that she wanted to get my IV and the pain meds started before they took me for my next ultrasound because she didn't want me to be in pain all that time. As she gave me the fentanyl, she told me I was going to see unicorns. A few minutes later, I proclaimed the need to paint the walls so they could move. The nurse chuckled and just said "unicorns".
Fancy new ultrasound (not one that had to be kickstarted) officially confused everyone, my blood tests revealed high white blood cell counts and low potassium, then I was kidnapped by the tech guy for a CT. Not long after I was given more fentanyl, the now very frazzled ER doctor came in and had a bit of a rant about the ultrasounds looking like they were from two different people and the CT confirmed that I had Uncomplicated Acute Appendicitis... the nurse eventually told me that just meant it hadn't ruptured, but needed to come out.
I gotta text my parents...
She was in and out after that, getting the treatment set up for high blood cell counts and low potassium, and confirming that I'd gotten a hold of my parents. My dad had texted back asking when they could come down and I told him I was still in the ER waiting to go to the OR. It was now about 330pm and I had been there since 1030am... and I finally had to pee after all the fluids they'd pushed. I asked her to take me before she finished switching tubes on me and she thanked me for that. The bathroom was right outside my room, so I told her it was probably easier for me to walk if she would help me. She announced she had to get something first, then came back with a bright yellow bracelet that proclaimed me a "fall risk" because she was worried about me being a wheelchair user and on fentanyl. As I came back, my mom was there to take all my stuff because I was then headed to the OR and the nurse said it would all be safer if she just took it. She piled everything on Saber and ran it out to my dad in the waiting room, then met up with us as they started to take me away. I also got to see my dad briefly as we crossed the hallway he was in.
My OR nurse quizzed me on my name, birthday, and my allergies. He told me they would just superglue me back together instead of stitches because of my latex allergy, then proclaimed me a winner because none of my food allergies compromised anything else (fun fact: those allergic to shellfish don't get iodine). Fast forward to getting knocked out, then waking up in a new room. The recovery nurse then quizzed me on my name, birthday, and why I was there.... you know that moment when you wake up from anesthesia, still can't quite keep your eyes open, but your natural instinct for sarcasm is trying to get back online? Yeah, I stared at her with all kinds of sarcasm in my head (gasp! where am I? What have you done?!), but unable to figure out how to use it. I answered her questions nicely, and was rewarded with the information that they told my parents I was okay, my doctor telling me everything went great, and then a ride to my room.
I spent the next half hour meeting my new nurses and trying to convince them to make sure my parents knew I had been moved (they didn't), and to convince them that I couldn't walk on my own (even before I got there!). I asked the nurse helping me up to use the restroom if she would be helping me walk and she took a few minutes to try to bolster my confidence to walk on my own.... my brain was still foggy so it took another few minutes to explain that my mom had taken my wheelchair, making it less obvious that I couldn't walk, and that my previous nurse had promised I could use a walker. I played this game through each subsequent shift change; no, I can't lift that leg or walk on my own, but it's not a side effect!
After getting back in bed and hooked up to everything again, my parents walked in and said no one told them I had been moved, they finally went to ask and were given my room number. It was now after 9pm, so they just checked on me, gave me back my phone, and told me to let them know when they released me. I wasn't tired, so I started texting my sister-in-law and a friend that had also wanted to check in. My friend offered to come sit with me, so I checked with my nurse.. she seemed hesitant when I asked if someone could come in, so I told her my sister wanted to sit with me for a bit.... then she was pretty sure it was okay and confirmed with the charge nurse, so I told my friend to tell them she was my sister if they asked; she countered with asking me if I also used an alias. She had offered to stop at my house, so I asked her to bring me clothes in case they released me while she was there, but then I was told the charge nurse proclaimed I was staying overnight (even if the doctor wasn't, she was requiring me to eat something and further observation before releasing me), so I also asked her to bring my charger for my phone. I had just enough juice left to call my dad to tell him she was stopping by and to confirm to her that they knew and what room I was in, and to tell my dad that I was staying. So she ended up leaving her charger with me as well, just in case ;)
When she came in, I was watching the end of the Giants game. She was a little surprised at that so I told her about the special TV; it had maybe 7 channels that came through, three of them were some fundraiser, another three were in spanish, and then there was the Giants game. She spent her time distracting me, playing Tetris with the nurses when I had to get up to go to the restroom (again!), and watching as I was hooked up again, then vitals taken so I could get more morphine. She then told me she was going home when that kicked in.
In the morning, I texted my sister-in-law again for a bit, got more morphine, and eventually "breakfast". I got through enough of the breakfast that they didn't make me eat anymore, so call that a bonus. When I asked to go to the restroom again, I also asked if I could walk a bit because my leg was getting rather angry; they did let me and were surprised that I made it about 20 feet down the hallway before turning back. Then, just as I was getting a bit impatient to go home and playing on my phone, I got a Facebook notification that a friend that was in Rio as Paralympic support for our friend on the women's sitting volleyball team started a live feed of their first game (their games wouldn't be aired until the semi finals so he decided to do it himself!) and that was the perfect amount of time to when they finally let me get dressed.. near the beginning of the last set they had finally told me I could call my ride, but they wouldn't unhook me until my dad got there so the rest of the game kept my attention. It was also then that I realized the silver lining to all this meant I'd be able to watch the Paralympics all week!
In the end, I was in the hospital for almost exactly 25 hours; I went through 8 sets of nurses (2 ER, 1 OR, recovery, and 3 shifts in my room.. although the last one I only met for an hour or so), two doctors, 2 doses of fentanyl, at least 3 of morphine, 2 ultrasounds and a CT, and had my IV flushed about 80 times. I have three new scars (or two new scars and a messed up belly button), still healing bruises from all the needle sticks, and the IV hand still feels like it's bruised on the inside from the stick to about an inch past my wrist. And through all of that, my only real problem was explaining my leg to each new nurse.. although the pep talks were nice (Of course you can walk! You can do it!).
I definitely prefer being given prescriptions and sent home, but as far as being stuck in the hospital, this was a pretty good experience. The way people talk and from my own experiences, I figure there's a 50/50 chance... and I am SO glad that my longest stay so far was a good one. And I hope I don't have to challenge the stay length any time soon.
A week and a half ago, I had a dull pain in my abdomen; mostly in the middle just below my sternum, but also a bit radiating down my right side. I wasn't sick and I wasn't in a lot of pain, I was mostly uncomfortable (although it was recently pointed out that my "dull" pain is probably on par with anyone else's "sharp" pain), so I still went to wheelchair basketball, but ended up sitting out the last game and leaving early because while I was okay during the games, I felt horrible whenever we stopped. It went on like that through the night so I called the advice nurse in the morning; after talking to her for a bit, something I said made her stop her questions and tell me to go to the ER.
Despite being upset, I wasn't worried and drove myself to the ER and signed in, waited for triage. My lack of concern, but appearance of tears seems to have confused the nurses... what do you do with someone who burst into tears while checking, then laughed with the triage nurse as they remember anything that may or may not be relevant? But let me explain. I've been sent to the ER with abdominal pain twice before; once turned out to be a bad bladder infection, the other was kidney stones. I figured something like that and I would be sent home with various prescriptions.
I was sent to pee in a cup and told to go to a new waiting area because they didn't have a bed for me. Eventually, I was put into a small examination room, where the ER doctor did a quick exam then went to find the ER's ultrasound.... which happens to probably be the original ultrasound. I'm pretty sure they kicked it at some point just to get it to turn on correctly. Some concerned noises later, the doctor says there's something wrong with my gallbladder aaaaaaaaand suddenly there's a bed for me! And a nurse, and someone to take my blood for tests, and an IV, and my first experience with fentanyl.
But I digress. My blood was taken pretty easily, the IV was a whole other story. The nurse finally got it in my arm, but it hurt so she tried my hand; the vein blew, so she went over to the other hand and questioned if I was dehydrated (definite possibility), but this one was a success. While she had been working on that, she kicked out a transport guy saying she'd let them know when I was ready and then reassured me the rest of the time that she wanted to get my IV and the pain meds started before they took me for my next ultrasound because she didn't want me to be in pain all that time. As she gave me the fentanyl, she told me I was going to see unicorns. A few minutes later, I proclaimed the need to paint the walls so they could move. The nurse chuckled and just said "unicorns".
Fancy new ultrasound (not one that had to be kickstarted) officially confused everyone, my blood tests revealed high white blood cell counts and low potassium, then I was kidnapped by the tech guy for a CT. Not long after I was given more fentanyl, the now very frazzled ER doctor came in and had a bit of a rant about the ultrasounds looking like they were from two different people and the CT confirmed that I had Uncomplicated Acute Appendicitis... the nurse eventually told me that just meant it hadn't ruptured, but needed to come out.
I gotta text my parents...
She was in and out after that, getting the treatment set up for high blood cell counts and low potassium, and confirming that I'd gotten a hold of my parents. My dad had texted back asking when they could come down and I told him I was still in the ER waiting to go to the OR. It was now about 330pm and I had been there since 1030am... and I finally had to pee after all the fluids they'd pushed. I asked her to take me before she finished switching tubes on me and she thanked me for that. The bathroom was right outside my room, so I told her it was probably easier for me to walk if she would help me. She announced she had to get something first, then came back with a bright yellow bracelet that proclaimed me a "fall risk" because she was worried about me being a wheelchair user and on fentanyl. As I came back, my mom was there to take all my stuff because I was then headed to the OR and the nurse said it would all be safer if she just took it. She piled everything on Saber and ran it out to my dad in the waiting room, then met up with us as they started to take me away. I also got to see my dad briefly as we crossed the hallway he was in.
My OR nurse quizzed me on my name, birthday, and my allergies. He told me they would just superglue me back together instead of stitches because of my latex allergy, then proclaimed me a winner because none of my food allergies compromised anything else (fun fact: those allergic to shellfish don't get iodine). Fast forward to getting knocked out, then waking up in a new room. The recovery nurse then quizzed me on my name, birthday, and why I was there.... you know that moment when you wake up from anesthesia, still can't quite keep your eyes open, but your natural instinct for sarcasm is trying to get back online? Yeah, I stared at her with all kinds of sarcasm in my head (gasp! where am I? What have you done?!), but unable to figure out how to use it. I answered her questions nicely, and was rewarded with the information that they told my parents I was okay, my doctor telling me everything went great, and then a ride to my room.
settled in my room after surgery
I spent the next half hour meeting my new nurses and trying to convince them to make sure my parents knew I had been moved (they didn't), and to convince them that I couldn't walk on my own (even before I got there!). I asked the nurse helping me up to use the restroom if she would be helping me walk and she took a few minutes to try to bolster my confidence to walk on my own.... my brain was still foggy so it took another few minutes to explain that my mom had taken my wheelchair, making it less obvious that I couldn't walk, and that my previous nurse had promised I could use a walker. I played this game through each subsequent shift change; no, I can't lift that leg or walk on my own, but it's not a side effect!
After getting back in bed and hooked up to everything again, my parents walked in and said no one told them I had been moved, they finally went to ask and were given my room number. It was now after 9pm, so they just checked on me, gave me back my phone, and told me to let them know when they released me. I wasn't tired, so I started texting my sister-in-law and a friend that had also wanted to check in. My friend offered to come sit with me, so I checked with my nurse.. she seemed hesitant when I asked if someone could come in, so I told her my sister wanted to sit with me for a bit.... then she was pretty sure it was okay and confirmed with the charge nurse, so I told my friend to tell them she was my sister if they asked; she countered with asking me if I also used an alias. She had offered to stop at my house, so I asked her to bring me clothes in case they released me while she was there, but then I was told the charge nurse proclaimed I was staying overnight (even if the doctor wasn't, she was requiring me to eat something and further observation before releasing me), so I also asked her to bring my charger for my phone. I had just enough juice left to call my dad to tell him she was stopping by and to confirm to her that they knew and what room I was in, and to tell my dad that I was staying. So she ended up leaving her charger with me as well, just in case ;)
When she came in, I was watching the end of the Giants game. She was a little surprised at that so I told her about the special TV; it had maybe 7 channels that came through, three of them were some fundraiser, another three were in spanish, and then there was the Giants game. She spent her time distracting me, playing Tetris with the nurses when I had to get up to go to the restroom (again!), and watching as I was hooked up again, then vitals taken so I could get more morphine. She then told me she was going home when that kicked in.
proof she was there... and going home!
In the morning, I texted my sister-in-law again for a bit, got more morphine, and eventually "breakfast". I got through enough of the breakfast that they didn't make me eat anymore, so call that a bonus. When I asked to go to the restroom again, I also asked if I could walk a bit because my leg was getting rather angry; they did let me and were surprised that I made it about 20 feet down the hallway before turning back. Then, just as I was getting a bit impatient to go home and playing on my phone, I got a Facebook notification that a friend that was in Rio as Paralympic support for our friend on the women's sitting volleyball team started a live feed of their first game (their games wouldn't be aired until the semi finals so he decided to do it himself!) and that was the perfect amount of time to when they finally let me get dressed.. near the beginning of the last set they had finally told me I could call my ride, but they wouldn't unhook me until my dad got there so the rest of the game kept my attention. It was also then that I realized the silver lining to all this meant I'd be able to watch the Paralympics all week!
In the end, I was in the hospital for almost exactly 25 hours; I went through 8 sets of nurses (2 ER, 1 OR, recovery, and 3 shifts in my room.. although the last one I only met for an hour or so), two doctors, 2 doses of fentanyl, at least 3 of morphine, 2 ultrasounds and a CT, and had my IV flushed about 80 times. I have three new scars (or two new scars and a messed up belly button), still healing bruises from all the needle sticks, and the IV hand still feels like it's bruised on the inside from the stick to about an inch past my wrist. And through all of that, my only real problem was explaining my leg to each new nurse.. although the pep talks were nice (Of course you can walk! You can do it!).
I definitely prefer being given prescriptions and sent home, but as far as being stuck in the hospital, this was a pretty good experience. The way people talk and from my own experiences, I figure there's a 50/50 chance... and I am SO glad that my longest stay so far was a good one. And I hope I don't have to challenge the stay length any time soon.
aaaand finally back home!
Wednesday, August 31, 2016
Life Has A Learning Curve
The other day, I went to a local arts festival. I lost myself in the creativity of others, wandering up and down the street, dodging the other people doing the same thing I was. Until a gentleman stopped me. He was also in a wheelchair and began asking me questions about my chair. He asked about my backrest (or lack of; my backrest is rather low and I told him I didn't need it up high, like his was), then commented on my footrest... the conversation moved to asking me if I took care of myself and was able to drive. He told me he couldn't drive and was taken care of, then gave me an embarrassed look and apologized because his speech was "crap". It had been obvious through our conversation that he carefully formed each word and had a bit of an accent on top of that. I told him there was no reason to apologize because he was doing just fine.
He absolutely brightened up at my words and thanked me... he then gave me a high five and wished me a good day. His reaction has haunted me since then. How many people just stare at him when he speaks? What does his therapist and/or caregiver tell him each day? His doctor? Anyone else he comes across on a regular basis? How much patience does he usually receive (or not) that he felt compelled to apologize to me?
As compared to talking to most people, his speech wasn't great, but for him it was probably a fabulous achievement. Something to be proud of. And now I absolutely doubt that it has ever been addressed that way for him. How can we expect people to improve when all we do is knock them down? Or hold everyone to the same ideals? That's a sure way to hold someone back, regardless of their abilities; a world class athlete does not make it to the top by only expecting them to run to the end of the block, and someone recently injured cannot make it to the end of the block if we automatically set their goal at running as far or as fast as possible. A small goal to that athlete can be a monumental achievement to someone else... hell, I hear stadium-like cheering every time I stand up on the first try. Just a few years ago, I never thought twice about standing up being a moment to cheer on.
A little further down the street, another gentleman asked me another question.. after talking about all the sports I play, he asked if I felt myself getting older. I paused for a moment; not because I had to think about the answer, but because I wanted him to understand what my transition to the wheelchair and adaptive sports has done for me, but also what sports had done for me in the first place.
"I've been 'old' since I was 13. I was a teenager and early 20-something with knees older than my grandparents. I was told all the things I couldn't do and wouldn't be able to do. And I listened, I sat on the sidelines and everything got worse. After my second surgery, I stopped listening and started running. Eventually, I added in hiking and biking. I was still pretty limited because the damage had been done, but at least I was moving. I was even improving until my whole leg decided to join in.... and that's what put me in the wheelchair. Trying out and participating in adaptive sports actually makes me feel younger than ever. I have different limitations now, but I have them in a world determined to overcome them, with people ready to help me figure out how to keep going. The rules or the equipment change to make things possible rather than me hitting a wall and needing to sit out the things I can't do."
Sometimes I wonder how things would have been different if I had just one person tell me what was possible rather than what was out of my reach, how much damage could have been prevented if I had been encouraged to play sports rather than giving me a note to sit them out.
After those two conversations, I now wonder if I would have reacted like that first gentleman if someone had simply told me I was doing well. That the things I thought were wrong or damaging to others around me weren't so bad. How much more would I have tried if someone told me I was doing okay? And that they were proud of what I had achieved despite being told I couldn't....
He absolutely brightened up at my words and thanked me... he then gave me a high five and wished me a good day. His reaction has haunted me since then. How many people just stare at him when he speaks? What does his therapist and/or caregiver tell him each day? His doctor? Anyone else he comes across on a regular basis? How much patience does he usually receive (or not) that he felt compelled to apologize to me?
As compared to talking to most people, his speech wasn't great, but for him it was probably a fabulous achievement. Something to be proud of. And now I absolutely doubt that it has ever been addressed that way for him. How can we expect people to improve when all we do is knock them down? Or hold everyone to the same ideals? That's a sure way to hold someone back, regardless of their abilities; a world class athlete does not make it to the top by only expecting them to run to the end of the block, and someone recently injured cannot make it to the end of the block if we automatically set their goal at running as far or as fast as possible. A small goal to that athlete can be a monumental achievement to someone else... hell, I hear stadium-like cheering every time I stand up on the first try. Just a few years ago, I never thought twice about standing up being a moment to cheer on.
A little further down the street, another gentleman asked me another question.. after talking about all the sports I play, he asked if I felt myself getting older. I paused for a moment; not because I had to think about the answer, but because I wanted him to understand what my transition to the wheelchair and adaptive sports has done for me, but also what sports had done for me in the first place.
"I've been 'old' since I was 13. I was a teenager and early 20-something with knees older than my grandparents. I was told all the things I couldn't do and wouldn't be able to do. And I listened, I sat on the sidelines and everything got worse. After my second surgery, I stopped listening and started running. Eventually, I added in hiking and biking. I was still pretty limited because the damage had been done, but at least I was moving. I was even improving until my whole leg decided to join in.... and that's what put me in the wheelchair. Trying out and participating in adaptive sports actually makes me feel younger than ever. I have different limitations now, but I have them in a world determined to overcome them, with people ready to help me figure out how to keep going. The rules or the equipment change to make things possible rather than me hitting a wall and needing to sit out the things I can't do."
Sometimes I wonder how things would have been different if I had just one person tell me what was possible rather than what was out of my reach, how much damage could have been prevented if I had been encouraged to play sports rather than giving me a note to sit them out.
After those two conversations, I now wonder if I would have reacted like that first gentleman if someone had simply told me I was doing well. That the things I thought were wrong or damaging to others around me weren't so bad. How much more would I have tried if someone told me I was doing okay? And that they were proud of what I had achieved despite being told I couldn't....
Friday, July 1, 2016
The Path to Enlightenment
Anyone that has gone through a major life upheaval knows what it's like to lose friends along the way. To notice that your supportive circle has moved in closer, simply because it's gotten smaller and that was the best way to fill in the gaps. To not only deal with what you're going through, but also with finding out who the people you've called friend really are.
I just happened to go through four of those upheavals in the span of two years. As my therapist said, I was hit with trauma after trauma after trauma.... I went from adjusting to my new world with a wheelchair, to grieving my brother, to getting hit with job loss, then looking for a new place to live before ultimately moving back home. In this process, I lost a lot of friends as they quietly (or not so quietly) drifted away.
I'm finally in a place to say how glad I am that they're no longer in my life. Don't get me wrong, I miss the friendships and I cherish the memories we made. It just took me so long to realize that it wasn't. my. fault. My adjustment and grieving processes were mine and those that decided to leave had made it about them, upset that their well meaning help wasn't helping. I was pushed into things I wasn't ready for and admonished for "giving up" when I finally said no. I was given complete blame when things went up in flames rather than recognizing that we had both (or all) gotten in over our heads. And I took it because even before all of this, fault was always put on me that a relationship didn't work out or a friendship had disintegrated...
It wasn't my fault.
As horrible as it sounds, these things happen, especially in the face of something others don't understand. I had a reputation for adapting to the things I really wanted to do, so I think there was an assumption that I would do the same thing when I went into the wheelchair, but it wasn't as immediately possible as before since I knew nothing about wheelchairs or how far I could push my new limits. Patience was lost by me and those around me. In my grief, that little eternal optimist that sat on my shoulder blowing away the dark cloud that follows me was gone, and for a while I wasn't sure how to go about finding that same optimism again since couldn't even remember being that person. Suddenly I was called a negative person. When I finally decided to focus on me rather trying to be the person everyone was trying to convince me to be, I was told I just didn't see what I was doing to others.
I did see. I just didn't care anymore.
Or I cared too much.
I had been manipulated and controlled under the cover of trying to help me heal, when all I needed was support to figure out how to heal myself and understanding that I wasn't going to be the same person in the end. And so I chose to focus on me, listen to myself about what I needed. I decided I couldn't heal and appease others at the same time. And I chose me.
I. Chose. Me.
That seems to have been the tipping point for those that had been waiting on the edges to see what happened. Some fell back, out of sight and out of my world. Some tipped back in, happy to see how much stronger I was in that decision, bolstered by my new confidence and ready to help when needed... proud that I was now able to ask.
I miss the people we all were just a few years ago, but I won't apologize anymore for wanting better for myself in order to be a better friend, a healthy person. And I'm proud of myself for finally being able to say all of this and move on. I hope those I no longer have contact with have found the same peace.
Sunday, June 12, 2016
I Saw You
Dear Parent,
I saw that woman openly and blatantly stare at the child you were pushing in a wheelchair. I saw you turn to look after her defensively. I saw her look at me the same way as she came upon me pushing my racing wheelchair along the trail behind you. I saw her finally turn when I smiled back defiantly.
I saw you and your wife politely move to the side when I called out that I was coming up behind you, then the shock as you realized I was also in a wheelchair. As I turned around to run more of the trail and you continued on towards the parking lot, I saw you stare at me the same way that woman did. I chose to smile genuinely at you, hoping to show you there was still some joy in the day, but was still met with that stare.
I don't know the limits that have been placed on your child and your family. I don't know if this is a recent injury or diagnosis. I don't know the reason you stared at me the way you did.
But I saw you. I saw your struggle.
I also understand the hope that brought you out to the trail today. It was beautiful out there, and most of the people were as well. You wanted to get outside for some fresh air, your wife looked like she was ready to go for a run.. but something happened out there and by the time I saw you, you were almost back to the parking lot and on full defense. I have to believe that woman wasn't the only bad experience you had today.
And I saw you stare at me. Probably the same way you had experienced.
I represented something out there today. Maybe it was my confidence in not caring what people may be thinking of me. Or maybe it was my independence, out on the trail by myself and pushing my own chair, a chair made for sports; while the chair you were pushing was made to be pushed by anyone except the person in it. I wonder if the doctors have diagnosed the hope out of you, told you there was nothing to be done, there would be no sports or independence. They told me a bit of that too. Told me I couldn't do the things I always did and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Except stop. Obviously I didn't, I simply found another way and I hope you do as well.
For the first time in my life, I hope you went home and talked about me. I hope I inspired you, even a little bit, at least a small spark of rebellion to show the doctors that they were wrong. That there can be joy despite the diagnosis. I hope you and your wife find an activity with your child that makes you all happy. I hope you find the defiance I did, to go outside without caring what others may think. And I hope one day you'll return the smile aimed at you to reassure others of the joy in each day.
Sincerely,
There is always hope
I saw that woman openly and blatantly stare at the child you were pushing in a wheelchair. I saw you turn to look after her defensively. I saw her look at me the same way as she came upon me pushing my racing wheelchair along the trail behind you. I saw her finally turn when I smiled back defiantly.
I saw you and your wife politely move to the side when I called out that I was coming up behind you, then the shock as you realized I was also in a wheelchair. As I turned around to run more of the trail and you continued on towards the parking lot, I saw you stare at me the same way that woman did. I chose to smile genuinely at you, hoping to show you there was still some joy in the day, but was still met with that stare.
I don't know the limits that have been placed on your child and your family. I don't know if this is a recent injury or diagnosis. I don't know the reason you stared at me the way you did.
But I saw you. I saw your struggle.
I also understand the hope that brought you out to the trail today. It was beautiful out there, and most of the people were as well. You wanted to get outside for some fresh air, your wife looked like she was ready to go for a run.. but something happened out there and by the time I saw you, you were almost back to the parking lot and on full defense. I have to believe that woman wasn't the only bad experience you had today.
And I saw you stare at me. Probably the same way you had experienced.
I represented something out there today. Maybe it was my confidence in not caring what people may be thinking of me. Or maybe it was my independence, out on the trail by myself and pushing my own chair, a chair made for sports; while the chair you were pushing was made to be pushed by anyone except the person in it. I wonder if the doctors have diagnosed the hope out of you, told you there was nothing to be done, there would be no sports or independence. They told me a bit of that too. Told me I couldn't do the things I always did and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Except stop. Obviously I didn't, I simply found another way and I hope you do as well.
For the first time in my life, I hope you went home and talked about me. I hope I inspired you, even a little bit, at least a small spark of rebellion to show the doctors that they were wrong. That there can be joy despite the diagnosis. I hope you and your wife find an activity with your child that makes you all happy. I hope you find the defiance I did, to go outside without caring what others may think. And I hope one day you'll return the smile aimed at you to reassure others of the joy in each day.
Sincerely,
There is always hope
Monday, June 6, 2016
Valor Games
One of the most rewarding volunteer jobs I have ever done has been working at the Valor Games for the last three years. Every year, I have come away with many uplifting moments and at least one moment that still brings tears. This year's is both haunting and beautiful.
Once again, I was given the honor of getting the cyclists started, which means I got to talk to every athlete (it's a time trial, so they start one at a time on the minute). I asked all of them how they were doing and I got various reports of good, awesome, outstanding (modified to outsitting.. and was given permission to use that), and sore/tired from their other events so far (I learned every athlete has to sign up for at least three events over the four days).
Once again, I was given the honor of getting the cyclists started, which means I got to talk to every athlete (it's a time trial, so they start one at a time on the minute). I asked all of them how they were doing and I got various reports of good, awesome, outstanding (modified to outsitting.. and was given permission to use that), and sore/tired from their other events so far (I learned every athlete has to sign up for at least three events over the four days).
One gentleman stood out among all those; he looked at me while fighting the tears in his eyes and told me he wasn't doing so well.
That day was the anniversary of losing his first female soldier.
I didn't ask how long ago because I'm positive the fresh pain in his eyes will look the same every year. After a quick pause (I was not expecting that..), I simply gave him what I hope was a reassuring smile and told him I hoped his ride would help him get through the day, that it was good to be surrounded by so many people that understand what he's going through. He sat up a little straighter and gave me a bit of a smile, then pointed to the man in front of him and the man behind him, and told me his guys were taking good care of him... they would make sure he got through the ride and the day. I saw him later as I was on my mission to grab a bike to take my own lap around the course; he gave me a real smile and a thumb's up for my switch into my stolen hand cycle.
I think we're fed the images of the hardened soldier or the wounded warriors that we forget that these men and women are so haunted by what they've seen and experienced... but also so supported by those that have been through the same things. It's truly a team environment; comradery through the sport competition and branch rivalry; the truest, most beautiful form of "no man left behind".
In general, I hope these veterans found an activity they really enjoy and will continue with, some new confidence in being able to try so many adaptive sports, and finding new friends that are doing the same things because this is where I can really relate with them; I come alive again every time I try something new that I didn't think/know I could do and I see the same spark in them all through the weekend. For this gentleman, I hope he found some peace in the day, in his ride, and in the people he was surrounded by.... and that his guys are with him again at this time next year to help keep an eye on him. I hope everyone that needs some guys know they can reach out for help.
Most of all, I'm proud of this man for telling me (someone he didn't know) what he was going through, not trying to hide his tears, and for accepting my awkward reassurances that there was help all around him.
On the same, but lighter note, here are some of my other moments;
-After 5 months of archery, I taught/coached for my first time and was able to celebrate my student's first X with her! I had told her my goal for the day was for her to consistently hit the target.. I didn't care where, as long she got those arrows into the target. She had a bit of a learning curve during the two practice rounds, then got better and better through the scoring rounds. And her smile got bigger and bigger. We even bonded over our problem body parts all falling on the left side.
-One of the men that was on my archery line didn't need any coaching despite just learning the day before. Whenever I told him what he was doing well, he shrugged and said he was just doing what they had told him to do. He gave me a bit of a shy smile at the end of the scoring when I told him he had a really great score (seriously, I think he averaged mostly 9s) and a hell of a draw. He ended up getting gold in his category, and he came over afterwards to give me a big smile and a handshake.
-Just have to mention the giggle of the large man when he got to meet the Clydesdale from Horses Healing Heroes
-Most of the cyclists were pretty anxious to get started by the time they got to me, after waiting in the line for however long. One woman near the beginning was extra ready to go and unfortunately had the two people before her not show up.. meaning she had to wait an extra couple minutes with no one in front of her. I had to hold her back after the person in front of her left, and got her distracted with a question. I then had to hold her back at the next minute, even held my clipboard up in front of her, which had my partner for the day come over laughing (I had already had to tell him I would be sending people to him, and not to get cocky calling them over without me) and the woman laughing about getting too anxious, causing me to penalize her before she even got moving! I found her afterwards to ask how her ride went and she came right over to give me a hug; due to a complication in the sign ups, she officially got 2nd place for the 5 mile distance, and unofficially got gold for the 10 mile.
-The cyclists that insisted I get out on the course as well when my job was done, despite my not being a vet. One even announced "we welcome everyone!" Then getting cheered just as loudly as the others on the course, especially once they noticed my orange volunteer shirt.
-I talked with a woman who has been meaning to visit BORP, especially the cycling center because regular bikes are so uncomfortable at this point and she wants to get into triathlons. She absolutely brightened up when I told her to get down there as soon as possible to try some bikes, how it'll change everything! When her wife came over, she insisted on getting a picture with me and my friend that works at BORP to remind her to go.
-The men, my newfound friends, that gathered with me at the first awards ceremony when I chose to hang back to watch and not only included me in their conversation, but also asked questions about me. They happily greeted me the next day at the cycling event and welcomed me back into the group at the next awards ceremony. I'll most remember the moment when I was telling them about my leg and said my frustration levels have gotten to the point of telling the doctors to amputate, that the solution isn't high on my list, but it is on there. One of the men, with a still healing amputation, looked me right in the eye and told me that I have to do what I have to do, that he didn't think anything less of me for wanting that on any level, and he had respect for me knowing how hard of a decision that is.
-I went over to the basketball clinic and they didn't have enough chairs, so Saber got to go out on the court with me... and I fell twice; once because I wasn't strapped in and once because I forgot I can't lean back that far while not in a basketball chair. Both times, there was a moment of getting me back up and/or untangled from my chair and making sure I was okay, but never sympathy.. the first time, they asked if I needed help getting back in the chair, but quickly took it back as I hauled myself up; the second time, there was more concern because I went backwards and hit hard, but as soon as I smiled and told them I just added some bruises, we continued on. It was nice to be around people that don't think I'm going to break just because of my chair, but also to be an example to those with a fresh injury or new to adaptive sports in being able get back up and keep going. When we were done with the quick scrimmage, one of the guys complimented me on throwing myself into the game and the others agreed.
-I finally(!) got to try wheelchair tennis! Taught by a friend that had been in the Paralympics, who proclaimed by the end that I had a really good start and should take up the sport... even told me about a group that practices on Saturdays in San Jose.
*Aaaaaand a final side note; the other man that was on my line in archery shot with his mouth, which often brought over the gentleman representing the Paralympics and coaching, as he also shoots with his mouth. He introduced himself to me and asked about my archery background, then told me to get in contact with the archery coach because they need women on the team and he was impressed that I prefer the traditional bow.
That day was the anniversary of losing his first female soldier.
I didn't ask how long ago because I'm positive the fresh pain in his eyes will look the same every year. After a quick pause (I was not expecting that..), I simply gave him what I hope was a reassuring smile and told him I hoped his ride would help him get through the day, that it was good to be surrounded by so many people that understand what he's going through. He sat up a little straighter and gave me a bit of a smile, then pointed to the man in front of him and the man behind him, and told me his guys were taking good care of him... they would make sure he got through the ride and the day. I saw him later as I was on my mission to grab a bike to take my own lap around the course; he gave me a real smile and a thumb's up for my switch into my stolen hand cycle.
I think we're fed the images of the hardened soldier or the wounded warriors that we forget that these men and women are so haunted by what they've seen and experienced... but also so supported by those that have been through the same things. It's truly a team environment; comradery through the sport competition and branch rivalry; the truest, most beautiful form of "no man left behind".
In general, I hope these veterans found an activity they really enjoy and will continue with, some new confidence in being able to try so many adaptive sports, and finding new friends that are doing the same things because this is where I can really relate with them; I come alive again every time I try something new that I didn't think/know I could do and I see the same spark in them all through the weekend. For this gentleman, I hope he found some peace in the day, in his ride, and in the people he was surrounded by.... and that his guys are with him again at this time next year to help keep an eye on him. I hope everyone that needs some guys know they can reach out for help.
Most of all, I'm proud of this man for telling me (someone he didn't know) what he was going through, not trying to hide his tears, and for accepting my awkward reassurances that there was help all around him.
On the same, but lighter note, here are some of my other moments;
-After 5 months of archery, I taught/coached for my first time and was able to celebrate my student's first X with her! I had told her my goal for the day was for her to consistently hit the target.. I didn't care where, as long she got those arrows into the target. She had a bit of a learning curve during the two practice rounds, then got better and better through the scoring rounds. And her smile got bigger and bigger. We even bonded over our problem body parts all falling on the left side.
-One of the men that was on my archery line didn't need any coaching despite just learning the day before. Whenever I told him what he was doing well, he shrugged and said he was just doing what they had told him to do. He gave me a bit of a shy smile at the end of the scoring when I told him he had a really great score (seriously, I think he averaged mostly 9s) and a hell of a draw. He ended up getting gold in his category, and he came over afterwards to give me a big smile and a handshake.
-Just have to mention the giggle of the large man when he got to meet the Clydesdale from Horses Healing Heroes
-Most of the cyclists were pretty anxious to get started by the time they got to me, after waiting in the line for however long. One woman near the beginning was extra ready to go and unfortunately had the two people before her not show up.. meaning she had to wait an extra couple minutes with no one in front of her. I had to hold her back after the person in front of her left, and got her distracted with a question. I then had to hold her back at the next minute, even held my clipboard up in front of her, which had my partner for the day come over laughing (I had already had to tell him I would be sending people to him, and not to get cocky calling them over without me) and the woman laughing about getting too anxious, causing me to penalize her before she even got moving! I found her afterwards to ask how her ride went and she came right over to give me a hug; due to a complication in the sign ups, she officially got 2nd place for the 5 mile distance, and unofficially got gold for the 10 mile.
-The cyclists that insisted I get out on the course as well when my job was done, despite my not being a vet. One even announced "we welcome everyone!" Then getting cheered just as loudly as the others on the course, especially once they noticed my orange volunteer shirt.
-I talked with a woman who has been meaning to visit BORP, especially the cycling center because regular bikes are so uncomfortable at this point and she wants to get into triathlons. She absolutely brightened up when I told her to get down there as soon as possible to try some bikes, how it'll change everything! When her wife came over, she insisted on getting a picture with me and my friend that works at BORP to remind her to go.
-The men, my newfound friends, that gathered with me at the first awards ceremony when I chose to hang back to watch and not only included me in their conversation, but also asked questions about me. They happily greeted me the next day at the cycling event and welcomed me back into the group at the next awards ceremony. I'll most remember the moment when I was telling them about my leg and said my frustration levels have gotten to the point of telling the doctors to amputate, that the solution isn't high on my list, but it is on there. One of the men, with a still healing amputation, looked me right in the eye and told me that I have to do what I have to do, that he didn't think anything less of me for wanting that on any level, and he had respect for me knowing how hard of a decision that is.
-I went over to the basketball clinic and they didn't have enough chairs, so Saber got to go out on the court with me... and I fell twice; once because I wasn't strapped in and once because I forgot I can't lean back that far while not in a basketball chair. Both times, there was a moment of getting me back up and/or untangled from my chair and making sure I was okay, but never sympathy.. the first time, they asked if I needed help getting back in the chair, but quickly took it back as I hauled myself up; the second time, there was more concern because I went backwards and hit hard, but as soon as I smiled and told them I just added some bruises, we continued on. It was nice to be around people that don't think I'm going to break just because of my chair, but also to be an example to those with a fresh injury or new to adaptive sports in being able get back up and keep going. When we were done with the quick scrimmage, one of the guys complimented me on throwing myself into the game and the others agreed.
-I finally(!) got to try wheelchair tennis! Taught by a friend that had been in the Paralympics, who proclaimed by the end that I had a really good start and should take up the sport... even told me about a group that practices on Saturdays in San Jose.
*Aaaaaand a final side note; the other man that was on my line in archery shot with his mouth, which often brought over the gentleman representing the Paralympics and coaching, as he also shoots with his mouth. He introduced himself to me and asked about my archery background, then told me to get in contact with the archery coach because they need women on the team and he was impressed that I prefer the traditional bow.
Saturday, March 26, 2016
I'm having fun!!
A few months ago, I wrote about my aversion to structured activity and/or needing a training schedule. I'm a little disappointed to say that aversion is still in full effect. I'm also a little happy to say that. You want to know why...?
I'm having fun!
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| Photo by an awesome volunteer! |
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| Getting scored for the first time at Ohlone Archery, and I got my first ribbon! |
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| Aaaaand playing a little sitting volleyball |
This week was a huge milestone for me in this search for fun.
-Hellyer 5K on Sunday: I took on a trail that had scared me after my fall a couple years ago, and was able to stay calm on the hill that is still bit much for me (although I fully admit I didn't think I'd have to see that one). I felt like the 5K itself was a bit of a battle, but I was pushed forward by my crew of volunteers that helped me down to the trail, the two strangers that helped me up the aforementioned hill, all the cheering from friends, and my volunteer crew waiting to help me back up to the road (telling me that I was doing great the whole time). Plus I got to see quite a few friends that I don't get to see much, so getting lots of hugs was the best part of the day!
-Wheelchair Basketball: I've been playing again for a few weeks, and at this week's practice I was playing really well; I even got a rather spectacular winning shot and an equally spectacular pass. The guys I play with have been coaching me quite a bit since I came back, and explaining why I should do these things, how it helps, and what the advantage is. They're also pushing me into getting into a position to take more shots, rather than my intuition to help others get the shot... but they've been sure to tell me that I'm really good at screening and they like that I do it. As I was heading out, one of the coaches told me I as playing really well and was improving, said I looked like I was starting "get it". I told him the coaching on the court is really helping and that I was starting to understand, and "that's when I get dangerous." ;)
-Archery: One of my first rounds was the closest I've ever gotten to a perfect end. The instructor came over to see, told me I was doing really well with grouping, and made the comment that I should keep score. "Doesn't count if you don't keep score..." Then lets keep score! At the end of each round, my brain goes straight to "what can I do better?" My instructor goes straight to what I'm doing well (grouping, adjustments, scoring better than I thought), then asking me if I knew what was happening with the wayward arrows and making me think about how to fix it. When he lowered the target for the second half of my rounds, we got into a discussion about my aiming; I aim much lower than average and I wondered if it was because of my view from the chair or just my eyes, he told me about an instructor he had that talked about crouching to see where to aim and said I was already at that level. Out of sheer curiosity, I decided to shoot a round while standing when I was done scoring. I use a combination of learned/natural movement and a basic landmark to aim, and that sent my first arrow right above the target, directly into the wall. So I adjusted to more aiming at that landmark, which got my next four shots onto the target, but only one anywhere near where I wanted it to go. He said it was basically like starting over, and I said it was definitely a learning experience (for both of us!); in the chair, my aim starts at the bottom of the target and I adjust from there, but in standing, I was up much higher and that natural movement I've developed was just gone!
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| And back to the scoring; I got a 238/8X! He said that's above average for a first time scoring and with 20 more points, I would have made it onto the range's leader board. |
I grew up in a world of "girls can't do that" and "not enough"; I have observed the world of soccer moms and signs at Little Leagues reminding parents that it's kids on the field, not pros; and three years ago, I was thrust into a world of "you can't do that" and others throwing around the word "disabled" like it's a bad thing.
Then came wheelchair sports.
Encouragement has been coming at me in droves. Fun is at the top of the list for all of my coaches. Mistakes are a learning experience rather than something to dwell on. Trying new sports is highly interesting rather than strictly cross training. Doing well is cheered out loudly.
And in all of that, I've found the fun again. I have friends wondering what races I'll be signing up for because they want to see me, rather than pushing registration sites at me and telling me I need to sign up, or go farther than before, or faster than ever. I'm improving my skills in volleyball, basketball, and archery... not afraid of trying something new to learn if there's a better way or simply to learn more about what I am doing. Despite not training nearly as much as I did before, I feel like I'm getting stronger when running with Tsunami. And I'm still working on it, but I'm getting better at marking the things I did well before moving to figure out how to improve the things I did not so well... which in itself is a huge step just because I'm pushing myself out of looking directly at what I did wrong and getting stuck there.
So three months later, I still don't want a training schedule.... but I've found I really like 5Ks right now and I'm having fun playing these various sports. I'm even improving at all of the above, will be playing in a few volleyball tournaments, and have been asked to help at the upcoming Valor Games as an archery coach. And more importantly, I'm happier and more patient, in general.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Acupuncture Report
I have been avoiding acupuncture for years. After much research, I didn't entirely believe it would help me and since this is something that involves my help to work, I never did it. Then I relocated to the Alameda County Health System and began seeing my new doctor at the Hayward Wellness Center, where they believe in natural medicine above handing out prescriptions, and she wanted me to try it. My pain levels and downward slide were at a peak, so I agreed and was put on the list.
Three months later, my name came up on the list and I would be starting up soon.. this was back in October, but we postponed it a bit because my triathlon was coming up, then a couple more weeks because of scheduling. I ended up starting mid-November for six-week program focused on pain management, specifically in my hip. You know what they say about the best laid plans, right? Yeah. As with most of my medical experiences, things got complicated...
Appointment #1: The first patient of the morning had been late, but the doctor was trying to catch up and I ended up not waiting too long. He told me about the program, asked some background questions about me and my leg; most interesting was whether I leaned more towards depression or happiness, anxiety or worry. I told him definitely worry and I naturally lean towards depression, but I choose to lean towards happiness. In answering that way, I noted that he was actually interested in answers and understanding them, and he liked that I answered his questions entirely.
His biggest emphasis was that we were working together; he could do everything just right, but if I wasn't right there with him it wasn't going to do much good. My biggest emphasis was I halfway thought this was crystal-gripping nonsense, but I was willing to have an open mind and do what I needed... if this was going to help me, I would try my hardest to get there.
Then he said no sports. I told him I didn't like him anymore.
He explained that we needed to have an "environment of healing" because we needed to go to an extreme in letting everything calm down and divert the path my body was currently on. Unable to argue, I agreed and tried to negotiate; volleyball and basketball were out, but I could still walk, run in my chair, bike, and swim as long as I was entirely "mindful of my movements".. although he preferred yoga, tai chi, and/or swimming.
In deciding on my first treatment, he said "you seem to be okay with piercings". Uh yeaaaahh..... He explained that you can access much of the body by the ear (kind of like foot reflexology) and the needles he was going to use could stay in until my appointment the next week. He also said these "piercings" were starting to be used extensively in the military because they are easy to put in and just leave them until they fall out. I got five of them and between each one, I had to walk down the hall to "move the energy" and he got the first view of my horrible limp. I explained that swinging the leg out was more comfortable and caused less pain in the long run. By the time they were all in, my pain level went down a notch and one of them helped a little bit with my balance.
The In Between: The piercings did help with the pain... but that top one caused twinges when I hit it, which turned out to be often. When I got home, my dad (who thinks all of this is nonsense) questioned why there were things in my ears to help my leg, then likened it to putting a cat in a paper bag and swinging it over my head. And acted it out for me. Funny as hell, but didn't help that open-mind thing.
Appointment #2: Encouraged by the pain help, I got needles in my hip, down the IT band, and in my calf. When he was done, he very calmly announced "okay, let's try some electricity." I looked at him wide eyed and told him he needed to work on his segues. In answering my lingering questions, I was happy to note that he made sure to answer them in terms of chi, then in general/scientific terms.. he also had no problem saying acupuncture is weird (one of those needles caused a twinge in my side)... and I respect that. It helped that he didn't expect me to be into the chi aspect, but still gave me the connection to it.
Those wires in the photo are my electricity. If you've used a tens unit, it feels like that, but a bit more intense. One was turned up too much and it made me scream, he turned up the dials a little slower after that.
The In Between: Surprisingly, the pain went down a notch and I wasn't quite as unstable as before. It was all very slight, but in my world, any improvement is a huge step forward.
Appointment #3: "I'm getting a little antsy/anxious with no activity." He said I could still do yoga and tai chi. "Those aren't sports, those are extras!"
Encouraged by the improvements though, he celebrated with more needles! Eleven this time. And he made me scream quite a bit. He explained something about finding my chi and I started laughing. I told him about a comedian, John Pinette, who talks about getting acupuncture and was convinced chi was a Chinese word for scream. As he finished today's electricity, he told me to relax and apologized for the kid screaming in the room next door. And in my dry humor, I said "someone got his chi.."
When the nurse started pulling needles, I could hear her counting and thanked her for it... she laughed and said most people thanked her for that. I screamed again when she pulled the needle from my ankle and I told her that one had been fine until she took it out. She offered to put it back in. Look close in the picture, it's stuck in the middle of the heart... that tattoo has had nothing but problems and I warned the doctor about it. It ended up be the first one to bleed a little.
The In Between: Over the next few days, I got some improvement; the pain moved down a little and while my limp was still horrible, I was able to start moving back to more of a forward gait rather than the side swing. Then my knee flared horribly, threw off everything else, and I was miserable by the time my next appointment came around.
Appointment #4: Encouraged by temporary good, then the ensuing flare up, he gave me mooooore needles aaaaand electricity. He put needles in my hip, down my IT band, and all the spots in my knee that made me scream. Then scream again. Those two in the front of my knee forced me to proclaim I did not like him anymore. He apologized, then brought out extra wires. He also added on a bit more time.
The In Between: By the time I got home, all I wanted to do was lay down. Healing is exhausting and I ended up falling asleep for much of the day. The only improvement was calming down the flare up in my knee, so at least I wasn't miserable.
Appointment #5: We did more of a progress report before the needles, where I said it was helping how I walked and was reducing the sharpness of the pain, but not the pain levels. I also brought up a concern that's been bothering me for the last couple years; I don't feel pain until it's at a level higher than what I feel on a regular basis. My examples were all my mystery bruises, the knot on the back of my hand that I didn't remember smashing a couple days before, and a few of my injuries a couple years ago that should have been minor, but landed me in the ER.
This changed the conversation entirely. He explained that traumas can close our minds (or cause an energy block) because we choose not to think about it in protection or in response to not being helped, but it ends up costing so much energy to keep those doors closed that it manifests into any number of things. I told him how I consciously began ignoring the pain when I was a teenager and none of the doctors or tests could figure out what was wrong.
He said there are five traumas and I didn't need to tell him about them, I just had to answer yes or no to each one; physical trauma, physical abuse, emotional trauma, sexual abuse, medical trauma. I answered yes to four and ultimately changed the no to a grudging yes.
My prior treatment was now on hold because he wanted to switch to the 7 dragons treatment, and gave me a loose diagnosis of PTSD. At this appointment I would get my first seven dragons to fight seven demons; this one was "internal" and was basically described a hard reset to take care of all that rewiring I've been doing since I was 13. He warned me that some people experience nightmares or other psychological symptoms. And since we were adding this in, he would tack on two more treatments. I agreed to both. These were my seven internal dragons; one in my sternum, two in my belly, one in each thigh, and one in each ankle.
The In Between: No nightmares, no improvements, but also no flare ups.
Appointment #6: He was surprised, but strangely impressed that I had no side effects. We ended up talking about Star Wars; I had just seen the new one and told him I wasn't a big fan of the series, but I thought the new one was cool, and he told me about seeing the originals in the theater and he was looking forward to taking his nephews to the new one to start up the new generation.
This time was external dragons; one in the top of my head, two in the back of my neck, two in my lower back, and one in each ankle. Internal was a reset, external would be a recalibration. I was warned again about potential nightmares and such.
And before he left the room, he said "may the dragons be with you." (best doctor quote ever!)
The In Between: A few days later, I was hit with severe depression and visions of the past hidden traumas. Basically all those doors flew open and reminded me all the things I had chosen to forget. Unfortunately, there are things you just can't forget, so you bury it as deep as possible and hope it never makes it out into the light. It hit me all at once, leading to two and a half days of hiding away from everyone. I finally put out a plea on Facebook to help kick myself out of the house. While I did a guided meditation to calm my sudden round of tears and doubts, my friends banded together and encouraged me to get out and do something normal. It helped to break that current cycle, which is all I need sometimes to pull myself out of the dark.. I fell pretty far this time (the first day I had thought I was sick, so I was able slip farther than usual before I realized what was happening) so I did take a while to climb back, but I was able to have some good conversations about what I was experiencing and letting it go rather than hiding it again. On top of all that, I became more aware of all the pains and where they were coming from.
Appointment #7: "I don't know what you did to me, but take it back!" I told him about the depression, not sleeping, and being able to pinpoint everything that hurt. We talked a bit about the traumas and how I felt like they built up because I stayed quiet, thinking no one was going to help me anyway. When I told him about my call for help, and talking to a couple friends and my sister-in-law, he pointed out that despite everything that felt horrible I had succeeded in changing the pattern; when I was younger, I didn't trust that anyone would help me so I didn't talk (much at all), this time I had enough faith to call out and believe there would be some help, which there was. From so many directions (still thank you all for that!).
I then detailed everything that hurt (from my neck to my feet) and gave the pain level for each one... a huge step as before I would just be able to give an overall number. The pain was also moving out of the assumed spots to where it actually was.
So we went back to needles for the hip pain. You'll notice it's almost like that first session again, and he noted that some of the sensitive spots weren't as sensitive anymore.
The In Between: It seemed like he caused a big flare up in my whole leg (more on that later)... everything hurt. More and in new locations, and I just didn't know how to deal with it. I slept a little better, but found it hard to wake up.
Appointment #8: I told him about the flare up and we went down the list again about how much everything hurt. He decided to do another treatment, but turn down the intensity of the electricity because he thought keeping it where I had been was now too much. Then we played a fun game of finding the point where I could feel it and keep it at a comfortable level.
The In Between: As my leg calmed down, I realized he hadn't caused a flare up, I had simply been thrown head first into the reality that is my leg.
Appointment #9: I told him about my revelation and proved it to him by describing the pain in my leg piece by piece as he typed quickly into the computer and asked questions. As a progress report though, I told him function had improved immensely, the pain level was the same (but the quality was different), and weight bearing was a problem (I could no longer walk unassisted farther than a few steps and my cane was my new best friend). He asked about progress on the traumas and I told him I was doing better, sleeping a little more, and still talking, but still having some trust issues. I showed him a drawing I had done and told him that had been the biggest help of all; he loved the drawing and very impressed with the help it brought.
Disappointed with the lingering pain and weight bearing, he treated my hip, then came back in to add a few more needles to encourage the flow of energy (two in my toe and one in my cheek). Aaaaaaaand one more appointment.
Appointment #10: Final Progress Report;
Function: 70% improvement
Pain: same level, but easier to deal with
Weight Bearing: much worse, but at least it's acknowledged now
PTSD: 90% improvement
Hip: most of the problem is the joint itself, which causes pain down my IT band and across my lower back
Knee: is a mess and holds 1st place for much of my weight bearing problems, the patella and surrounding muscles are most of the problem or at least causing the most of the problem: poor tracking. He gave me a new exercise to hopefully with that
Ankle: much worse than I thought it was; I now believe most of the pain below my knee is caused by my ankle shooting pain up, and the foot wants to drop, but the pain spikes if I let it out of the flexed position... and I think it just barely wins out for 2nd place in the weight bearing problems
Beyond all that, my shoulder is doing much better since I was able to find where the pain actually is and I noticed that my neck is less stiff (or less likely to get stiff), but lower back was getting stiff. He decided to focus on my lower back this time, and also added a few to my hip in the hopes that would help the still lingering shooting pains. He asked me to report anything to my primary when I go in for my checkup, then asked if I had any questions.... I immediately confirmed that I could start getting myself back into sports!
My six week program turned into 3 months and I'm glad I did it. The pain is still there, but at least I now know exactly where it is and what is causing it, making it a little easier to deal with.... also I'm not going to mess up even more with the unnatural gait I had developed or walking without assistance when I shouldn't be. A week out from my last appointment, I'm afraid I was right in believing this wouldn't be a permanent solution (it feels more like a settle, than a backwards slide though), but it at least sets me up to be able to help the Orthopedic more than I did before. If I ever get that call.
I am able to walk much farther on my crutches than I did before (accidentally went 4 miles last night!) and not be in so much pain after. I can sit in my wheelchair without needing to adjust so often. I'm starting to wonder if I can ride my bike with both legs again. And for the last couple weeks, I've been working building my endurance back up again.
This is my drawing that helped so much. I made a copy of it and gave it to my doctor, he was so excited he practically ran out of the room to show the nurse and have her find somewhere to put it. I still have the original up in my room and it's been a great reminder that my dragons (my fight) are stronger than the demons... depression has been a constant for me since I was a kid, sometimes I just deal with it better than other times. I just never had something tangent to help me out of the dark.
Three months later, my name came up on the list and I would be starting up soon.. this was back in October, but we postponed it a bit because my triathlon was coming up, then a couple more weeks because of scheduling. I ended up starting mid-November for six-week program focused on pain management, specifically in my hip. You know what they say about the best laid plans, right? Yeah. As with most of my medical experiences, things got complicated...
Appointment #1: The first patient of the morning had been late, but the doctor was trying to catch up and I ended up not waiting too long. He told me about the program, asked some background questions about me and my leg; most interesting was whether I leaned more towards depression or happiness, anxiety or worry. I told him definitely worry and I naturally lean towards depression, but I choose to lean towards happiness. In answering that way, I noted that he was actually interested in answers and understanding them, and he liked that I answered his questions entirely.
His biggest emphasis was that we were working together; he could do everything just right, but if I wasn't right there with him it wasn't going to do much good. My biggest emphasis was I halfway thought this was crystal-gripping nonsense, but I was willing to have an open mind and do what I needed... if this was going to help me, I would try my hardest to get there.
Then he said no sports. I told him I didn't like him anymore.
He explained that we needed to have an "environment of healing" because we needed to go to an extreme in letting everything calm down and divert the path my body was currently on. Unable to argue, I agreed and tried to negotiate; volleyball and basketball were out, but I could still walk, run in my chair, bike, and swim as long as I was entirely "mindful of my movements".. although he preferred yoga, tai chi, and/or swimming.
In deciding on my first treatment, he said "you seem to be okay with piercings". Uh yeaaaahh..... He explained that you can access much of the body by the ear (kind of like foot reflexology) and the needles he was going to use could stay in until my appointment the next week. He also said these "piercings" were starting to be used extensively in the military because they are easy to put in and just leave them until they fall out. I got five of them and between each one, I had to walk down the hall to "move the energy" and he got the first view of my horrible limp. I explained that swinging the leg out was more comfortable and caused less pain in the long run. By the time they were all in, my pain level went down a notch and one of them helped a little bit with my balance.
The In Between: The piercings did help with the pain... but that top one caused twinges when I hit it, which turned out to be often. When I got home, my dad (who thinks all of this is nonsense) questioned why there were things in my ears to help my leg, then likened it to putting a cat in a paper bag and swinging it over my head. And acted it out for me. Funny as hell, but didn't help that open-mind thing.
Appointment #2: Encouraged by the pain help, I got needles in my hip, down the IT band, and in my calf. When he was done, he very calmly announced "okay, let's try some electricity." I looked at him wide eyed and told him he needed to work on his segues. In answering my lingering questions, I was happy to note that he made sure to answer them in terms of chi, then in general/scientific terms.. he also had no problem saying acupuncture is weird (one of those needles caused a twinge in my side)... and I respect that. It helped that he didn't expect me to be into the chi aspect, but still gave me the connection to it.
Those wires in the photo are my electricity. If you've used a tens unit, it feels like that, but a bit more intense. One was turned up too much and it made me scream, he turned up the dials a little slower after that.
The In Between: Surprisingly, the pain went down a notch and I wasn't quite as unstable as before. It was all very slight, but in my world, any improvement is a huge step forward.
Appointment #3: "I'm getting a little antsy/anxious with no activity." He said I could still do yoga and tai chi. "Those aren't sports, those are extras!"
Encouraged by the improvements though, he celebrated with more needles! Eleven this time. And he made me scream quite a bit. He explained something about finding my chi and I started laughing. I told him about a comedian, John Pinette, who talks about getting acupuncture and was convinced chi was a Chinese word for scream. As he finished today's electricity, he told me to relax and apologized for the kid screaming in the room next door. And in my dry humor, I said "someone got his chi.."
When the nurse started pulling needles, I could hear her counting and thanked her for it... she laughed and said most people thanked her for that. I screamed again when she pulled the needle from my ankle and I told her that one had been fine until she took it out. She offered to put it back in. Look close in the picture, it's stuck in the middle of the heart... that tattoo has had nothing but problems and I warned the doctor about it. It ended up be the first one to bleed a little.
Appointment #4: Encouraged by temporary good, then the ensuing flare up, he gave me mooooore needles aaaaand electricity. He put needles in my hip, down my IT band, and all the spots in my knee that made me scream. Then scream again. Those two in the front of my knee forced me to proclaim I did not like him anymore. He apologized, then brought out extra wires. He also added on a bit more time.
The In Between: By the time I got home, all I wanted to do was lay down. Healing is exhausting and I ended up falling asleep for much of the day. The only improvement was calming down the flare up in my knee, so at least I wasn't miserable.
Appointment #5: We did more of a progress report before the needles, where I said it was helping how I walked and was reducing the sharpness of the pain, but not the pain levels. I also brought up a concern that's been bothering me for the last couple years; I don't feel pain until it's at a level higher than what I feel on a regular basis. My examples were all my mystery bruises, the knot on the back of my hand that I didn't remember smashing a couple days before, and a few of my injuries a couple years ago that should have been minor, but landed me in the ER.
This changed the conversation entirely. He explained that traumas can close our minds (or cause an energy block) because we choose not to think about it in protection or in response to not being helped, but it ends up costing so much energy to keep those doors closed that it manifests into any number of things. I told him how I consciously began ignoring the pain when I was a teenager and none of the doctors or tests could figure out what was wrong.
He said there are five traumas and I didn't need to tell him about them, I just had to answer yes or no to each one; physical trauma, physical abuse, emotional trauma, sexual abuse, medical trauma. I answered yes to four and ultimately changed the no to a grudging yes.
My prior treatment was now on hold because he wanted to switch to the 7 dragons treatment, and gave me a loose diagnosis of PTSD. At this appointment I would get my first seven dragons to fight seven demons; this one was "internal" and was basically described a hard reset to take care of all that rewiring I've been doing since I was 13. He warned me that some people experience nightmares or other psychological symptoms. And since we were adding this in, he would tack on two more treatments. I agreed to both. These were my seven internal dragons; one in my sternum, two in my belly, one in each thigh, and one in each ankle.
The In Between: No nightmares, no improvements, but also no flare ups.
Appointment #6: He was surprised, but strangely impressed that I had no side effects. We ended up talking about Star Wars; I had just seen the new one and told him I wasn't a big fan of the series, but I thought the new one was cool, and he told me about seeing the originals in the theater and he was looking forward to taking his nephews to the new one to start up the new generation.
This time was external dragons; one in the top of my head, two in the back of my neck, two in my lower back, and one in each ankle. Internal was a reset, external would be a recalibration. I was warned again about potential nightmares and such.
And before he left the room, he said "may the dragons be with you." (best doctor quote ever!)
The In Between: A few days later, I was hit with severe depression and visions of the past hidden traumas. Basically all those doors flew open and reminded me all the things I had chosen to forget. Unfortunately, there are things you just can't forget, so you bury it as deep as possible and hope it never makes it out into the light. It hit me all at once, leading to two and a half days of hiding away from everyone. I finally put out a plea on Facebook to help kick myself out of the house. While I did a guided meditation to calm my sudden round of tears and doubts, my friends banded together and encouraged me to get out and do something normal. It helped to break that current cycle, which is all I need sometimes to pull myself out of the dark.. I fell pretty far this time (the first day I had thought I was sick, so I was able slip farther than usual before I realized what was happening) so I did take a while to climb back, but I was able to have some good conversations about what I was experiencing and letting it go rather than hiding it again. On top of all that, I became more aware of all the pains and where they were coming from.
Appointment #7: "I don't know what you did to me, but take it back!" I told him about the depression, not sleeping, and being able to pinpoint everything that hurt. We talked a bit about the traumas and how I felt like they built up because I stayed quiet, thinking no one was going to help me anyway. When I told him about my call for help, and talking to a couple friends and my sister-in-law, he pointed out that despite everything that felt horrible I had succeeded in changing the pattern; when I was younger, I didn't trust that anyone would help me so I didn't talk (much at all), this time I had enough faith to call out and believe there would be some help, which there was. From so many directions (still thank you all for that!).
I then detailed everything that hurt (from my neck to my feet) and gave the pain level for each one... a huge step as before I would just be able to give an overall number. The pain was also moving out of the assumed spots to where it actually was.
So we went back to needles for the hip pain. You'll notice it's almost like that first session again, and he noted that some of the sensitive spots weren't as sensitive anymore.
The In Between: It seemed like he caused a big flare up in my whole leg (more on that later)... everything hurt. More and in new locations, and I just didn't know how to deal with it. I slept a little better, but found it hard to wake up.
Appointment #8: I told him about the flare up and we went down the list again about how much everything hurt. He decided to do another treatment, but turn down the intensity of the electricity because he thought keeping it where I had been was now too much. Then we played a fun game of finding the point where I could feel it and keep it at a comfortable level.
The In Between: As my leg calmed down, I realized he hadn't caused a flare up, I had simply been thrown head first into the reality that is my leg.
Appointment #9: I told him about my revelation and proved it to him by describing the pain in my leg piece by piece as he typed quickly into the computer and asked questions. As a progress report though, I told him function had improved immensely, the pain level was the same (but the quality was different), and weight bearing was a problem (I could no longer walk unassisted farther than a few steps and my cane was my new best friend). He asked about progress on the traumas and I told him I was doing better, sleeping a little more, and still talking, but still having some trust issues. I showed him a drawing I had done and told him that had been the biggest help of all; he loved the drawing and very impressed with the help it brought.
Disappointed with the lingering pain and weight bearing, he treated my hip, then came back in to add a few more needles to encourage the flow of energy (two in my toe and one in my cheek). Aaaaaaaand one more appointment.
Appointment #10: Final Progress Report;
Function: 70% improvement
Pain: same level, but easier to deal with
Weight Bearing: much worse, but at least it's acknowledged now
PTSD: 90% improvement
Hip: most of the problem is the joint itself, which causes pain down my IT band and across my lower back
Knee: is a mess and holds 1st place for much of my weight bearing problems, the patella and surrounding muscles are most of the problem or at least causing the most of the problem: poor tracking. He gave me a new exercise to hopefully with that
Ankle: much worse than I thought it was; I now believe most of the pain below my knee is caused by my ankle shooting pain up, and the foot wants to drop, but the pain spikes if I let it out of the flexed position... and I think it just barely wins out for 2nd place in the weight bearing problems
Beyond all that, my shoulder is doing much better since I was able to find where the pain actually is and I noticed that my neck is less stiff (or less likely to get stiff), but lower back was getting stiff. He decided to focus on my lower back this time, and also added a few to my hip in the hopes that would help the still lingering shooting pains. He asked me to report anything to my primary when I go in for my checkup, then asked if I had any questions.... I immediately confirmed that I could start getting myself back into sports!
My six week program turned into 3 months and I'm glad I did it. The pain is still there, but at least I now know exactly where it is and what is causing it, making it a little easier to deal with.... also I'm not going to mess up even more with the unnatural gait I had developed or walking without assistance when I shouldn't be. A week out from my last appointment, I'm afraid I was right in believing this wouldn't be a permanent solution (it feels more like a settle, than a backwards slide though), but it at least sets me up to be able to help the Orthopedic more than I did before. If I ever get that call.
I am able to walk much farther on my crutches than I did before (accidentally went 4 miles last night!) and not be in so much pain after. I can sit in my wheelchair without needing to adjust so often. I'm starting to wonder if I can ride my bike with both legs again. And for the last couple weeks, I've been working building my endurance back up again.
 |
| 7 Dragon for Seven Demons |
Thursday, January 28, 2016
I don't want to!
I have absolutely no desire to sign up for an event. I don't want to have a goal or a training schedule. I don't want to have that special date looming closer and closer, but also so far away. I don't want to get stronger, better, faster for the sake of earning a great new time at an event.
There. I said it out loud.
No, I don't have any events coming up (well, I have some small ones...). No, I'm not going to register for whatever race is about to open. No, I don't care how fast I am right now. No, I'm not sure I can even make it through a half marathon.
Do you want to know why? Because it's not fun anymore. Hasn't been in the last two years, and I've driven the fun into the ground in trying to grasp onto it hoping it would somehow come back.
I used to run until it wasn't fun anymore, then I'd turn around and go back to the car. Same with hiking and biking. When I went into the chair, there was pure joy in my newfound speed and just being able to keep moving.... but then there was that marathon I signed up for. Which was good and bad for me; good in that it was good to see the things I could still do, but bad in that it was too much, too soon. I pushed to be ready for it and I succeeded. Well, I finished and felt okay. My next half marathon was a bit of a struggle, but I convinced myself I just needed to finish healing... and the next one wasn't much better.
My world had imploded in the few months around that marathon, so when my training schedule was over, I simply kept going because it was the only thing I had that was still familiar. I needed it so much, I signed up for many events, including going back to that marathon. I thought I just needed that goal again and to get focused. I lost a year chasing after that elusive carrot...
Races weren't fun and training became a chore.... except with the right company, of course ;) And it took so long to accept that (like three days ago). I had been having fun trying out new sports, so last year began my triathlon adventure. I enjoyed the new challenge, I took the training at a more realistic pace, and even though I flagged right at the end (and a bit during the race), I had a great time and a great experience. I took a break after that. Been on that break for three months now; some of that being imposed by my doctor.
Last week began a rebellion though. I had already decided to take a step back to build a better foundation of strength because of the struggle I have had during races. Now, I've decided to take a break from needing a training schedule; meaning I'm only signing up for races I'm already prepared for (so probably 5Ks and 10Ks for now) and doing more cheering for friends. And I'm going to keep doing a variety of sports and trying new ones... in the last week, my "training" has been walking with my crutches, sitting volleyball (don't tell my doctor!), cycling, archery, and swimming. And nothing gets written down until I'm done.
For the first time since I got active 11 years ago, I'm moving because it's something I love to do. I wake up each morning and pick an activity rather than check a schedule. I decide how far or how long I go after I have already started. And there's already something very freeing about this.
While I hope the desire for a big event will come back, I will be happy to skip them for a while in favor of getting stronger and having some fun. To take some time to improve on skills without the pressure of proving how much better I may have gotten. To skip all talk of PRs and going farther than before. To remember why I love heading out onto that trail, or up that mountain, or onto that court, or into that water. To prove to myself that the 24 year old kid I was had a great point;
There. I said it out loud.
No, I don't have any events coming up (well, I have some small ones...). No, I'm not going to register for whatever race is about to open. No, I don't care how fast I am right now. No, I'm not sure I can even make it through a half marathon.
Do you want to know why? Because it's not fun anymore. Hasn't been in the last two years, and I've driven the fun into the ground in trying to grasp onto it hoping it would somehow come back.
I used to run until it wasn't fun anymore, then I'd turn around and go back to the car. Same with hiking and biking. When I went into the chair, there was pure joy in my newfound speed and just being able to keep moving.... but then there was that marathon I signed up for. Which was good and bad for me; good in that it was good to see the things I could still do, but bad in that it was too much, too soon. I pushed to be ready for it and I succeeded. Well, I finished and felt okay. My next half marathon was a bit of a struggle, but I convinced myself I just needed to finish healing... and the next one wasn't much better.
My world had imploded in the few months around that marathon, so when my training schedule was over, I simply kept going because it was the only thing I had that was still familiar. I needed it so much, I signed up for many events, including going back to that marathon. I thought I just needed that goal again and to get focused. I lost a year chasing after that elusive carrot...
Races weren't fun and training became a chore.... except with the right company, of course ;) And it took so long to accept that (like three days ago). I had been having fun trying out new sports, so last year began my triathlon adventure. I enjoyed the new challenge, I took the training at a more realistic pace, and even though I flagged right at the end (and a bit during the race), I had a great time and a great experience. I took a break after that. Been on that break for three months now; some of that being imposed by my doctor.
Last week began a rebellion though. I had already decided to take a step back to build a better foundation of strength because of the struggle I have had during races. Now, I've decided to take a break from needing a training schedule; meaning I'm only signing up for races I'm already prepared for (so probably 5Ks and 10Ks for now) and doing more cheering for friends. And I'm going to keep doing a variety of sports and trying new ones... in the last week, my "training" has been walking with my crutches, sitting volleyball (don't tell my doctor!), cycling, archery, and swimming. And nothing gets written down until I'm done.
For the first time since I got active 11 years ago, I'm moving because it's something I love to do. I wake up each morning and pick an activity rather than check a schedule. I decide how far or how long I go after I have already started. And there's already something very freeing about this.
While I hope the desire for a big event will come back, I will be happy to skip them for a while in favor of getting stronger and having some fun. To take some time to improve on skills without the pressure of proving how much better I may have gotten. To skip all talk of PRs and going farther than before. To remember why I love heading out onto that trail, or up that mountain, or onto that court, or into that water. To prove to myself that the 24 year old kid I was had a great point;
"I finished. I win!"
(this was after the finish of my first half marathon in 2005... the one I wasn't supposed to be able to start or finish, but ended up starting this whole "being active" adventure!)
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