Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Back in the tower

Tomorrow is my eight week checkup with my foot surgeon. Its been a year full of doctor's appointments, checkups, and being stuck on the couch. After five weeks of bed rest from preeclampsia, I was thrilled to get up and moving again after Yvonna was born.  And then came my surgery to repair my ruptured Achilles tendon.  Initially, he was saying I would be non-weight-bearing (NWB) for three weeks, in the boot for eight, and not driving for eight.  Then came the actual surgery.  It was ugly inside there. The surgeon described it to my husband as trying to sew together the ends from a horse's tail. Fortunately, I had one tiny segment of my achilles still attached that he was able to use as a template for the length that he needed to sew the others. The phrase he commonly uses in my visits is "due to the chronic nature of your injury." Yeah, walking on a ruptured Achilles for nearly nine months isn't the greatest way to heel. The three weeks of NWB changed into eight. Eight weeks. Two months. Sounds long either way.

I know that there are people in this world who have it much worse off than I do. Believe me, I have worked with many of them. And I'm extremely grateful that my condition is only temporary. I get to get off the crutches at some point. Hopefully tomorrow, but at least at some point. Some people live their lives using crutches, wheelchairs, prosthetics. I feel for them. That's one of the reasons I'm a therapist is because I want to help people regain maximum mobility and quality of life. But I've learned that just because there is someone out there who has a worse condition, that does not negate the pain or frustration of what I'm going through. Since March 6, over four months by now, I've been mainly on bedrest. That bedrest was only punctuated briefly by the break that came from having a baby. Which meant that I was up every 2-3 hours, continually nursing, and recovering from bring the baby into this world. But it felt great to be able to get out of the house! And now I've been stuck. Back in the tower again. With two small boys and an infant. I look forward to not needing the significant amounts of help that I've been needing, to be able to take care of my family myself.

After my knee surgery I was on crutches, but the doctor wanted me putting weight on my leg. (It's called WBAT-weight bearing as tolerated. Meaning the only limitation on how much weight I can put on that leg was only limited by my pain levels) That wasn't too bad. Non weight bearing is no picnic. My arms grow exhausted from carrying my body's weight, as humans were not designed to walk on our hands. My left leg grows tired quickly with standing as I'm balancing entirely on one leg. The steps to my dining room are too short and steep to safely navigate, I can't get things out of the oven, do laundry, or even carry my own daughter.  I've learned how to move things along from surface to surface using my gorilla-length arms and hop over on my crutches. And yes, it's safe.  I've been a model patient. Really, I have. This is my one chance to get it right as a second surgery would not have a good chance of positive outcome.  I'm not going to do anything to jeopardize my chance of healing successfully. This behaving is frustrating, leaving me feeling helpless, needy, and thanking God for the wonderful people who have stepped in to do what I cannot. I'm praying to get clearance to start walking tomorrow. I'm getting serious tower fever.

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Bed Rest

     Think about who you are for a moment. About your own wonderful and unique blend of God-given personality and the character that you've chosen to develop. Although many of this earth will behave in similar ways at times and you may find those that you share traits with, you are as one-of-a-kind as your thumbprint. My own personality combines my natural sanguine, free-floating spirit with a deep and fiery determination. The first time I ever read in history about the southern term "steel magnolias" it resonated with me. I found I could identify with the concept of someone being gracious, feminine, and ladylike and still having the backbone and grit to get things done when it mattered. At 15 I tore the stitches in my knee because I pushed through rehab so hard and also impressed my coaches at how quickly I was back on the court. In the PTA program I constantly heard classmates saying, "I don't know how you get it all done with all you have going on." My boss commented after one of the best April Fool's jokes I've ever managed to plan (that's a whole other story!), "you just don't give up, do you?" I grinned while shaking my head and said, "Nope. Not in my vocabulary."
     I come from a family of determined people. That's probably where a lot of it comes from. It's a mixture of optimistic "can-do" attitudes and a knowledge that sometimes sacrifices just have to be made to accomplish a goal. For me there was a lot of competition with my older brothers and trying to be seen as anything but the baby of the family. But there can be a darker side to this as well. You can only burn a candle from both ends for so long before both ends of the flame meet in the middle. Even steel will crack when exposed to too much pressure. And that is what has happened to me. My poor pregnant body has declared "enough!" I was hospitalized for two days last week due to high blood pressure, a potentially deadly condition in pregnancy known as preeclampsia. Even today with all the marvels of modern medicine there isn't much that doctors can do for prevention and treatment. They don't even know why some women come down with it and other don't. Currently I'm obeying my doctor's orders and doing the best that medicine can to keep both myself and my unborn child safe: restricting salt in my diet, taking blood pressure meds, and full-time bed rest.
     To say that I didn't struggle when my OB/GYN issued this edict would be a bald-faced lie. It felt like my world as I know it is coming to an end. Maybe a tad dramatic, I'll fess up to that, but it completely turned my life upside down. I'm used to constantly moving, coming and going, doing, being busy. What in the world am I supposed to do lying on the couch, and preferably on my left side? I've grown accustomed to feeling constant pressure from deadlines, house, children, responsibilities, and feeling that's just a part of my normal life. No surprise that my BP is high, I can often feel my pulse thudding in my neck and the base of my skull.
     In a conversation that my dad has had to repeat to two out of his three children, he related his own struggles with stress and blood pressure at a young age. About his doctor's warnings and the choices he had to make to become healthier.  In his early 20's my dad had to learn to stop and smell the roses more and to relax. And apparently that too is something that has to be learned in this family. Apparently I need to stop running and learn to sit and be content. Apparently I need to be more in the moment and stop worrying about what comes next. To stop depending on self so much, and rely on God.  To accept love and help from other people. Apparently  I have lessons to learn, children to cuddle and read to, things to mentally and emotionally let go of. Apparently this bed rest is going to be good for me for more than producing a healthy baby.

Thursday, January 31, 2013

Not in my plans

     This was not the pregnancy that I had planned. I was going to keep running 3-6 miles, 3 times a week. I was playing volleyball. I was going to be the picture of health this time. Then my achilles tendon ruptured with a sickening pop. As if the forcible removal of all fun things physical combined with the limping and subsequent backache weren't bad enough, then the blood pressure started climbing. Preeclampsia. Once was enough already and not what I wanted again.
     Now I'm sitting in the doctor's office afraid to move lest my nose start spurting blood again. Idly I wonder how much blood loss equals one of the daily iron supplements my OB recently added to my daily regimen. Shoot! I forgot it this morning. Need to remember to take when I get home... I can't tell if my headache is from the blood pressure that spiked this morning or from my severe sinus infection. this and getting sent home from work this morning. This was not in my plan either.
     I worry. A lot. Too much. I worry about how I will pay the bills if I'm put on bed rest. I worry about my body, whether it's killing my baby. I worry about being a mom to my two wonderful boys and whether all of this is taking time away from them. As I feel my pulse pound way too quickly in my neck, I worry that I won't be able to carry her to full term.
     Then from inside a small kick pulls me out of my musings. She's active for a few minutes, kicking bones and bladder indiscriminately. My precious little girl is, for the moment, doing all right. And her tiny taps, which are constantly growing stronger, remind me of God's grace. Of his goodness. Of the fact that He gives enough for today, for this moment. That He is taking care of me and of my family. To not cross the line from planning into worry. His grace, his unmerited favor and love, is enough. And that's been the theme of this pregnancy. To trust in God's grace every day and depend on His strength. And to thank God for the amazing family, church family, and coworkers and I'm surrounded with who are supporting me and praying for me.

 “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 2 Corinthians 12:9