Slowly but surely

This weekend will mark 8 weeks since kneemageddon. It's astonishing it's been that long! Don't get me wrong, it still feels like FOREVER, but 8 weeks is a heck of a long time to have a gimpy leg. Just the other day an NBA player tore his ACL and I couldnt help but think how he would most likely have surgery within days and be back playing professional basketball in a few months. Man, that would be nice. But, alas, I do not have the pleasure of a team doctor, surgeon, MRI in my office building, nor a full time personal trainer and physcial therapist to ensure my quick and painless recovery. He, of course, doesnt have the pleasure of hosting Claude in his lower calf, either. So ha! Jokes on him!
But, in all seriousness, I am soo very frustrated and simply over being injured. There were small victories to celebrate in the beginning; taking my first steps, getting off crutches, going back to work, continued progress at physical therapy. But those all stopped weeks ago.  I cannot possibly improve my range of motion any more, I am walking without a limp, I am back to driving my car. There is nothing to do but wait. And wait. Until I have that ultrasound and I'm giving the thumbs up for surgery, all I can do is wait. It's agonizing. I miss being able to go to the gym and work out, I miss being able to sleep and walk down stairs and play with Lucy. I miss playing soccer- though I'm fully aware that will not happen again for a LONG time. I feel like a different person when I'm not doing those things. It's one thing to be able to run- but choose not to (like I normal do) and not to even have the choice to run. It's a very foreign and very helpless feeling.
Earlier this week, I was chatting with my boss about my leg and the status of Claude and she told me how she forgets anything is wrong because I'm so positive about it and I don't complain much. Well, no, I guess I don't (with the exception of this blog, of course). But after some thought I truly believe that because it was so bad and so painful and so scary in the beginning, what I'm going through right now isn't much to whine about. I can walk, take a shower, drive. 8 weeks ago, I couldn't even wiggle my toes because it was too painful. Funny how one event can put everything in perspective.
So, as I go into ultrasound #6 next week, keep your fingers crossed for me and remember not to take life too seriously. It's too short. And kick a soccer ball and run down the stairs for me!

Happy Birthday to Me!

Why yes, today is my birthday.  Thank you for asking.  I decided to take today off, so I can maximize my pajama wearing, cake eating, dog petting time.  So, with pajamas on, sleeping puppy at my feet, I'll take this time to recap my 26th year of life...

1. I got a new job!  Yay! It took years of looking, but it was worth it!

2. We went to Mexico!  It was a lovely week in Puerto Vallarta.  That sure sounds nice right about now.

 

3. Mark had my friends fly in for a weekend for my half birthday!  It was amazing and so much fun!

 

4. Umm... I got ENGAGED.  Just a tiny event.

 

5. We finished the Tough Mudder. Jeez, that was ridiculously difficult but it just makes it more fun to talk about.

 

6. Kneemageddon.  Tore my ACL, got a blood clot. This, unfortunately, will be following me into my 27th year. 

I have a feeling my 27th is going to be my best year yet!

Physical Therapy is hard

Ok before I even begin this, let me just start by saying it's a terrible idea to Google image search a surgery you will be having very soon.  Most of the images that come up are not pretty, nor are the people in them conscious and/or smiling.  That being said, there will probably be no pictures associated with this blog.

So, seeing as Claude, my very affectionate and loving bloodclot, decided he will take up residence in my posterior tibial vein I have no choice but to wait until the next ice age to have my surgery.  In the meantime, I've been kicking ass in physical therapy.  Now, that might mean something different to everyone, it sure wasn't what I thought it would be.  I knew it would be hard, but I didn't think it would be so mentally and physically exhausting.

Before kneemageddon and before Claude came into my life, I would run and bike and play soccer and jump and hike and dance and do anything and everything I wanted.  Now, I have to focus and push myself beyond my tolerance to just bend my knee to tie my shoe.  I have to hold on to the bar to do a squat. Sliding my foot forward and back is now the equivalent of me doing 100 push-ups 2 months ago.

Injuring myself has been an experience.  A terrible, painful, humbling experience. To me, injuries used to be a set back, something that might keep me on the sidelines for a few days.  But when your injury effects your ability to walk, work, live your life normally- it's something completely different.  I look at the person walking up the stairs and I think how lucky they are.  How they don't know how good they have it.  It's a bizarre and helpless feeling.  It's also very motivating.  Instead of going to the gym to lose some love handles, I am going to the gym to regain to use of my leg.

Never in a million years did I think I would be in this position, one where I was going to doctor's appointments more than I go the the grocery store. I thought I was healthy, invincible.  It's funny how naive and silly I was.  Life is a crazy adventure, but it is an adventure.