The Down-Swing to the Up-Swing

That sadness and fear and weakness that I pushed back during physical therapy on Friday seemed to resurface Saturday evening. What a surprise. 

The sharp, frequent, stabbing pains through the medial side of my knee were really getting to me. They've been happening with more frequency the last couple of days. I am certain it is from increased, constant weight bearing at PT from Friday. 

I had a somewhat "full" day Saturday with out over doing it, I thought. Started the day with a lovely Skype session with my brother Mike and his girlfriend, Alicia, in New York. Got a quick and tasty breakfast burrito at Illegal Pete's with Alon. Viewed an apartment (with a billion stairs and down branches everywhere). Scooted around Whole Foods with Alon (me: in a power scooter that could literally turn on dime, a 1000 times better than the Target version). And in the afternoon, I finally sat for about two hours while I got my hair colored. I decided to take the day off from the gym/PT. I was feeling fatigued since I woke up but decided to continue activity at a relatively slow pace, checking in with myself (did I want to go home and sleep or go grocery shopping with Alon? for instance). By late afternoon and night time, I was completely beat, a bit cranky, and the pain had not subsided at all despite 1000mg of Tylenol since morning. Alon and I cooked dinner and watched two movies. I iced my knee a bit, later on putting heat on the medial part of the knee. I was trying everything.

Did I mention Boulder was experiencing 60+ mph gusts yesterday? Today it's not so bad, less wind up, but still up there at probably 30-40 mph. Anyways, that kind of wind always makes me feel unsettled, even on a good day. And surely challenges my stability (physically and mentally) while on crutches.

As I write this and reflect more on my day yesterday, I realize, "Shit. I did not actually take it very easy." Well, I tried. I did go slowly, if that counts. The conversation I had with myself yesterday was "If I went home I would be letting the fatigue win and probably feel sad or something." 

I was starting to have regrets later in the day that I didn't go to the gym, since I was feeling so crappy. Alon reassured that I was fine and it was probably an okay thing to do (and it was).

The balance I was trying to achieve was activity without increasing my pain while not giving in to fatigue. That's hard!

By night fall, as I tried to stretch and massage my left leg in bed, I wept. Whether it was pain, fatigue, or frustration that set it off. There I was, crying yet again. Oh well. It was, again, cathartic. I remember yelling (in a nice way!) to Alon in the other room, asking if he could please put away the left overs from dinner. He was like, "Sure." Here's the straw the broke the camel's back last night: the fact that I couldn't do it; I couldn't muster up the strength to crutch to my wheel chair in the other room, put down the crutches, wheel into the kitchen, put everything away in Tupperware, clean up, and put stuff in the fridge. It was just too much. There's got to be a word for angry-self-pity-weakness-discouraged. That is what it felt like.

Anyways, that was my moment last night. The down swing to the up swing.

I woke up with a headache this morning. Scarfed down a bowl of gluten-free granola and drove to the gym, where I proceeded to do rehab work out. I felt good about getting there and that is was the right thing for my body and mind. I was still very stiff and sore when I work up. The work out did help with that. The interesting part again was the first few minutes on the bike. I just cried. Discretely trying to wipe the tears from my cheeks. I focused my pain, tiredness, weakness, and frustration into the healing process and strength of my leg. I listened to some good music in my headphones and 15 minutes went by on the bike. I continued with the rest of my work out and headed home about an hour and a half later. Slightly less tired, slightly less pain.