When Life Hands You Lemons
There is no denying that tearing my ACL was a horrible experience. . . initially. Crutches and braces for months at a time sucked. Living through the initial pain of the surgery and then finding out another surgery was necessary was just plain hell.
But if I consider the ACL tear pain and challenges a giant lemon in my life, I'd have to also admit that I have tried to make lemonade, given the circumstances.
I've never been one to give up easily, but sometimes, throughout the past 17 months, I even surprised myself. Sure I had my weepy moments where I felt sorry for myself. I can't deny that. I went through a stage where I needed to surround myself with all things martial arts. I read books, crutched my way up the dojo stairs to watch classes, and spent hours visualizing my kata so that I wouldn't slip behind and forget.
And then I had a period where the last thing I wanted to be around was martial arts. I asked Mr. BBM to take Big I to karate classes. I went through a period where it was too difficult for me mentally, to be there, watching the others enjoy the karate classes I knew I'd be missing for a long time. I stopped reading martial arts blogs for quite some time too. I couldn't take it. As happy as I was for my blogger friends and their promotions, etc., I couldn't bring myself to visit with any regularity. Commenting without sounding like I was feeling sorry for myself wasn't possible, so I stopped commenting. They stopped coming here too; and I hope they know that it wasn't anything personal. It was just a bad mental spot where I lingered for a while.
Then I started to feel better. It wasn't great. I dealt with over a year of pain until I went back for the second surgery; but I found encouragement through my physical therapist who has become a friend. I had some extraordinary friends who kept me positive and were always asking me how I was doing, some physically half a world away. I had great help from my family. I found courage through my personal trainer who went through the same surgery and completely knew how I was feeling and what I needed to do. I've never been a gym person, but I pushed myself to get there and work harder. I never would have joined the gym and worked so hard if it hadn't been an absolute necessity. I would have made excuses about the cost, the time issue, and anything else that I could have mustered. Instead, my health and fitness has become a top priority and I'm better off for it. I'm probably in the best shape of my life. Without the ACL tear, that never would have happened.
I can finally say that I feel like I am coming out the other side of a long dark tunnel. My knee is feeling fantastic. It's obvious I'm getting stronger and my left leg is finally catching up with my right.
That's why this award, the "When Life Hands You Lemons" award from Marguerite, means an awful lot to me. Thank you Marguerite!!!
As with any blog award, there are some rules.
- Post the logo on your blog.
- Nominate blogs that show great attitude or gratitude
- Link to the nominees within your blog post.
- Notify the recipients of the award by commenting on their blog.
- Share the love and link back to the person from whom you received your award.
So now it's my turn to nominate some people who know how to make lemonade when life has dealt them some seriously sour lemons. I have two people in mind.
The first award goes to Renovation Girl. After dealing with an upsetting miscarriage only months ago, last week Renovation Girl launched "Find Your Happiness Friday" on her blog. In her situation, I'd have trouble finding happiness anywhere, yet she has and is encouraging her readers to do so too. She's a lemonade master.
The second recipient of this award goes to my ACL buddy Hackshaft. He had ACL reconstruction surgery only a few weeks after I had mine and he totally beat me back to the dojo. Then, only months later, he tore the ACL in his other leg. Yet the man has been nothing but positive. I have already told my husband that if I tear mine again, he will have to restrain me from jumping off a cliff. Hackshaft, on the other hand, reasoned that he got through it once-he would do it again. And I swear that within minutes of him leaving the hospital, he had a counter back on his blog for when he can return to the dojo. Talk about making lemonade out of not one, but two lemons.
Thank you again to Marguerite. You truly made my day! Hackshaft and Renovation Girl, I hope I've made yours too!
For additional reading, you might want to check this out. It's a list of the Top 50 Self Defense Blogs out there with a nice little description about each one. I happen to be on it. Cool.
Tonight I'm the guest on Karl's Talk Radio show at Talk Shoe. The time is 10 P.M. EST. If you're planning on listening in, go and register with Talk Shoe now so you can participate in the chat, ask questions via the chat or even call in! Hope to see you there!
Not a Wimp
Born with long, spaghetti-like arms, I've never had much confidence in my arm strength. Plus, my legs always made up for the lack of muscles in the upper body so I didn't worry about it. Why punch when you can kick right? Since I started working out with my trainer, we've been spending a lot of time on upper body exercises. Last night was no exception.
My trainer will frequently start me out with a certain amount of weight and then based on what color my face turns, he'll either add or subtract from that. When you're hanging out in the free weight section with a bunch of guys who could probably bench your whole body and then some, it can be a bit intimidating when you're only lifting super light weights and sometimes nothing more than a bar.
As with everything else, I tend to beat myself up about it too. "Oh man, I'm such a wimp" comes out of my mouth entirely too frequently. Just as my karate teacher told me to quit saying "I'm sorry" during sparring, my trainer last night told me to quit saying "I'm a wimp."
We tend to joke around a lot while working out, between sets, but when he said it last night he was serious. "I won't have anyone calling you a wimp, and I won't let you call yourself one either. You're definitely not a wimp." He went on to give me a little pep talk about how much I've improved and how we're ramping things up now and working on more than one body part per session. Part trainer, part cheerleader. That's why I picked him.
Frequently, I have no idea how much weight he has on the machines when I start working it, but last night he told me that he's throwing a lot more weight on there lately. The goal right now is building muscle endurance so I can stop going from full power to an empty tank. Trust me when I tell you that 7 or 8 reps come fairly easily but when I hit the last two. . . let's just say that last night he pretty much saved my face from an unfortunate meeting with a 15 lb. weight. I think my left arm is possessed sometimes and thought that maybe in exchange for all the punishment I was giving it, it thought I might like a bit of a snack in the form of a free weight.
In addition to saying my face from plastic surgery, I love how he has this plan for me. I told him what I want, and he knows how to get me there. It's fun, motivating, and a lot of good hard work too.
After wrecking my chest muscles and shoulders last night, we moved on to abs. He once again had something new for me. This time, he had me lie down on the mat, flat on my back. Then he stood facing me by my head. I had to reach over my head and hold onto his ankles while throwing my legs up straight and together at him. Once I was about to kick him, he would push my legs back down in different directions and I'd have to throw them back up at him. At first I started laughing and asked him if we were going to do those crazy two-person forward rolls that I used to be able to do when I was in gymnastics class many, many years ago.
He was laughing too and almost changed his mind about having me do them. He started to worry about whether or not my knee could take it. I told him my ACL is solid and to just avoid pushing my legs where I'm bruised. It's nice that he thinks about those things and is cautious about doing exercises that could potentially bother my knee. He has continued to push me but always stresses not wanting to reinjure me in any way, shape or form. Plus, me staying healthy is job security for him.
We did about four different abdominal exercises and I told him to give me another one. I finished the night off completely exhausted and barely able to put my own seatbelt on (my left arm/shoulder had developed a mind of its own after being destroyed for over an hour). But today, I know I'm stronger for it; and despite having trouble lifting my arms today, I know I'm not a wimp.
Lately I've been thinking that all things really do happen for a reason. For whatever reason, there were some additional lessons I needed to learn before shodan testing. Physical therapy and then joining a gym after this ACL mess has taught me a lot of discipline, and it's also brought more confidence in areas I didn't have it before. Plus, I'm getting in shape like never before and that will definitely impact the way karate goes for me back in the dojo.
Most importantly though. . . I'm not sorry and I'm definitely not a wimp. Maybe I should sell t-shirts. . .
Not Sorry
Not a Wimp
Would you buy one?
90% Back
I went back to the gym tonight and met with my trainer again. I swear in the three weeks I've been out, he has been working out extra. It looked like someone inflated his arms. When I told him he was holding out on me and asked him what he's been doing, he jumped up, grabbed the pull-up bars and did 15 pull-ups easily.
"Hmm," I said, "and I can't even do one unless you're holding 90% of my body weight."
He laughed. "Let's go girl. Let's get you back." He spent the next 40 minutes annihilating my biceps and triceps. For the first exercise, he handed me one of those straight bars that you're supposed to put weights on. "Girl, can you curl this?" he asked as he gently handed it to me. As I was taking it from him, he said, "it's 40 lbs."
I really wanted to lift that bar, but it was next to impossible. My legs are strong but my arms are still lagging behind. I moved it a couple inches and looked at him with pleading eyes, "I'm thinking this isn't going to happen" I told him.
A woman who was working out nearby, with arms like a body builder started laughing out loud. "I had faith in you! I thought you were going to do it!" she yelled across the floor.
"Yeah, well that's because I still have my sweatshirt on," I told her. "Wait until you see my spaghetti arms." She cracked up again and I announced that I'm happy my weakling arms can be of some amusement to someone.
My trainer handed me the 30 lb. curling bar for what he calls "21's." I call them pure hell. I was relieved I could do it with 30, but grateful when he handed me the 20 lb. bar after a couple sets.
It is absolutely amazing how much you lose in the way of progress when you take a couple weeks off. My trainer assured me that the longer I work out, the less I'll fall back when I take a break. I just need to keep putting more time in.
I pushed it as hard as I could tonight, avoiding anything where I would have to kneel and felt good when my arms felt like jello and I could barely straighten them at the end of our session. I didn't think about my knee once the entire time except for when I told him those kneeling dips were out.
We saved abs for last, as usual, and tonight my trainer had some new torture for me. He did it all with me and I kept up just fine with him. That's the one thing I haven't let slide these past few post-surgical weeks. It was only a few days after surgery and I was sitting on the floor with my medicine ball, working it out. He told me he was impressed and that even if my arms are lagging behind, my core is getting stronger every day.
He told me he's got an arsenal of new things for me in the weeks to come. I'm excited to get to them.
When I was exchanging some work-out clothes from Christmas the other day, I was looking for some new t-shirts for the gym. There was one Nike one, part of the Live Strong clothing line. It said on the front "100% back."
I was so tempted to get it. Even if I don't wear it right away, I could keep it aside until I am 100% back. I held off though. I don't want to jump the gun and get ahead of myself. I'm 90% back. I'll find that shirt again when I'm ready. I'm going to be ready soon.
That Familiar Feeling
Before I tore my ACL, I would miss a karate class and Mr. BBM would know it. I was a cranky girl when I didn't get my weekly dose of dojo time. The frustration of dealing with barely being able to walk, being tied to crutches, being locked in an uncomfortable brace for weeks, and being in near constant pain made me even more cranky. Cranky just became part of my nature. Ok, I'll admit it's always been a part of my nature; but it became a much bigger part.
Joining the gym in October started to change that. Physical activity is an amazing thing for sanity and peace of mind. Breaking a sweat, working hard, making goals and meeting them really got me thinking about getting back in the dojo again. Sometimes, if you go so long without something, you forget how much it used to mean to you and how much you want it back in your life again. Then something reminds you and the drive to get back to doing what you used to love so much is right there again.
I wonder though, can it ever really be the same again? Class used to take me away from my stress. It was an escape and a release. With a brace locked securely around my leg and the all too vivid memory of what this past year has been like, can it ever be the same?
A friend who went through this with both knees once told me that it takes two years before you don't feel any twinges of pain or discomfort. Two years before thinking about your knee becomes secondary to living your life. I don't think I want to wait two years!
I made it my goal when I scheduled this last surgery that I would be back in the dojo around my birthday which is now just three weeks away. I was hoping I'd be back meeting with my trainer today instead of waiting for an open incision to close. I realize my goal of 2-7 may be a bit too ambitious.
In order to go back though, I think I'm going to have to allow myself to suck for a while. I'm going to have to dig deep inside to get through the frustration of uncomfortable stances and moves that don't want to come naturally anymore.
It's a lot of pressure to walk back into the dojo after over a year of not being there on a regular basis (other than to watch your daughter's class). As a 1st kyu who used to really know her stuff, it's disappointing to come back and not be at your best. You start to wonder if the newcomers think you're a slacker. Of course they don't know the whole story, but it doesn't matter. You're a brown belt, 1st kyu and you should know your stuff.
You should be able to sit in seiza (I still can't).
I am excited about the prospect of starting back up again in just a few short weeks. I just hope it doesn't take long for karate to feel the way it used to feel.
Mixed Messages
You know you're in for it when the nurse who's about to take your stitches out, takes one look at your leg and says, "Oh, you have one of those. . . I'll be back." My surgeon does this running loop stitch thing and it mimizes scarring but stings a bit more than normal stitches when it comes out. When it comes out, it's one piece and you can feel it tugging underneath your skin.
She came back a few minutes later and peeled up the steri-strips. "Oh" she said, "I'm going to need to go get him. It's still open." My surgeon came in, took a look, and told her to go ahead with taking them out. It looked so disgusting that I wasn't sure if I wanted to gag, throw up, or pass out. With all the mixed signals, my body just decided to ramp up the heat as it began to feel like I was in a sauna and I broke out in a serious sweat. The bonus of having an incision that isn't completely closed yet is that the stitches don't pull as much coming out. Still, I couldn't watch.
Instead of watching the nurse pull out the stitches and put more steri-strips on the incision, I concentrated on my surgeon's face. He said that he removed part of the sheath, and all the scar tissue that had built up all around it. He said there was a lot of fluid in there too and that I should be good to go now.
Of course, there are limitations. I'm supposed to take it easy for the next 7-10 days and avoid doing any type of activity or stretching that would widen the incision and subsequent scar.
When all was said and done, he told me that in a few weeks I can get back to normal. We talked about pivoting, twisting, kicking and sparring and he made it quite clear what he thinks about me sparring again.
"Three step sparring is o.k. but if I were you, I wouldn't do anything beyond that. Revision surgeries do not have a good success rate, and we're talking about your leg and the rest of your life here."
Truly he's right. It's just not worth it.
As I was leaving he smiled and said, "I'll see you around, just hopefully not here." I should have invited him to my birthday party.
On the way home, I stopped at the gym to ask them if they could put a medical hold on my account. In total it will probably be about three weeks that I'm out of commission. At first, they seemed really willing to help. Then she said she would need 20 days prior notice to put it on hold. "I don't think I even had 20 days notice that I was having surgery," I told her.
I asked for the guy who signed me up and he saw me coming as I walked back to his desk. "Remember that free month you promised me when I signed up? I never got it. I've been paying every month since I signed up. I'd like you to put that free month through now. I threw my leg up on the chair and pulled my pant leg up.
He wrote down my membership number and said he'd take care of it. I figured that flashing a little leg would work, just for different reasons than one would think.
Apparently, the 20 days prior notice business is somewhere on my contract, in microscopic print, on the backside of the paper, written in Arabic code, and requiring a decoder pen from a cereal box. I would just like to know when helping people became secondary to screwing people.
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