I will never again take for granted the ability to walk!

It has been exactly 99 DAYS since my bike accident and surgery. In just the past couple of days I have been able to go without any walking assistance (no crutches) about 50% of the time, still wearing my brace. What a great break through!

At physical therapy today I showed April how I could walk down the hall, in my shuffle sort of way. She took the crutch away from me and said... "Get going! Last room on the right." So just a few hours ago there I was walking, no crutches and without my brace for the very first time. I actually felt really strong without the brace. It was liberating. I don't feel this way in the morning - and sometimes during the middle of the day, I feel so weak and tired and painful that I can hardly bear another step. But tonight I did a little dance (like waving my arms in the air) for April as I strutted down the hall to the examination room. After our bending session (where I went to 122 degrees), I raced April to the bike to start my work out. I flew through my PT routine in about 1 hour (versus the regular 2), iced up, and went and met friends for drinks!

Last weekend I watched people walk across the crosswalk at a nearby intersection while Alon and I sat outside Atlas cafe drinking tea. It brought tears to my eyes as I thought most of them take walking for granted. I was sad and mad and jealous. I'm never again going to take walking for granted. I swear it. I'll remember this experience and all these emotions for the rest of my life. Walking carefree and being "able-bodied" is such a gift.

All week my coworkers have watched me go up and down the couple of stairs to the back entrance of our building. Cautiously move around the building with more ease. Go a few more feet every day with one crutch, then no crutches. Venture up a flight of stairs to the second floor for the first time in several months. Walk from my office to the front lobby without any assistance. Every moment I walked another step on my own, I really relished in the moment. Every time I took a step was a diligent, tireless, purposeful effort of reminding myself to engage my leg muscles, flex my quad, straighten my back, engage my core, touch my heel to the ground, straighten the knee, push off the toe, bend the knee, plant the heel again. Tighten the muscles. STEP. Repeat. My walking has turned into a mindfulness practice, and it's been truly amazing.

Last night I coordinated with Alon to make us some smoothies for dinner. My coworker Jenny would drive me home from work at 5:30. Alon and I would scurry off to the gym for one hour, then we'd make it - albeit 40 minutes late - to the BCAP Annual World AIDS Day Concert at First United Methodist Church. The coordinated effort was critical and we pulled it off! As we slowwwly walked across the icy parking lot to the church at 7:35. That was an awesome effort!

The last couple of days have been particularly sketchy as we have had very cold temperatures, snow, and most walkways and roads hardened with slick ice last night and this morning. Everyone who saw me out and about said with a loving, cautious tone, "PLEASE be careful." And I was. I walked out of my house this morning to start the car as Alon was finishing up something inside. We were about to head out together. As I stood on the curb getting ready to step down into the street this morning and start the car, the reflection of glaring ice stopped me. I felt doubt, discouragement, and then, most of all rationality. This experience has made the most obvious EVEN clearer. I poked the ice on the road a couple times with my crutches and decided that I couldn't take the step knowing I would be safe. It would be pushing the limits. I was reluctant, yet I stood there with my head down, just staring, wondering if I could do it, HOW I could do it. I decided I couldn't do it without help. Mind and body fought for a while, but my body knew more than my mind. My ego reared it's head and then was cast aside. I still stood there, contemplating, staring at the ground - wishing for an alternate reality yet knowing the truth - until I was ready to turn around to go back inside and wait for Alon.

Just then Jenny drove by. Sweet little southern gal. What timing. She always drives by my house on her way to work in the morning, but I'd never actually seen her unless she was stopping to pick me up. Well, by golly, there she was! She put on the brakes just a bit past me and pulled over, rolled down her window, and yelled, "Hey Erin, do you need help?!" To which I replied, "Yes, I'm going back inside to get Alon!" "Ok. See you at the office!" Jenny yelled back. "Sounds good, thanks!" I said.

It's really hard to ask for help but if you listen REALLY carefully you know WHEN... and listen even more carefully and you know HOW and WHO to go to. It's amazing to me the friends, family, coworkers, and complete strangers who have come together for me lately to be my support team when I need it. To say to myself, "I can do a lot of things, but I CAN'T do this on my own" without feeling some sense of defeated self-worth is really difficult to come to terms with. But when I'm surrounded by people who just want to see me succeed and be happy, everything seems okay again. My decision by the curb this morning felt rational, solid, and self-assured. I knew I didn't want to get hurt or take a risk that could ultimately result in injury or set back. The love and support of those around me and those whom I hold in my heart help empower me to make the right decision. I acknowledged that I needed help, I sat with it - literally, as I stood there holding my crutches and stared at the ground without moving. Jenny reminded me that it's okay to ask for help. And I knew I could always count on Alon's patience, kindness, help, and loving understanding - even for the simplest of things. Even when he doesn't realize how awesome and helpful he is, he's that much more amazing to me.

This last week in particular there have been several times when I have felt strong and weak, tired yet determined all at the same time. When someone asks me if I have pain, I've learned to craft my answers in such a way that allows my body and mind a chance to respond genuinely and for "both" to be acknowledged. For instance, "Yes, I feel pain in my foot like I'm walking on a sprained ankle but the more I walk on it, the more blood flow it gets and the quicker it will heal. My quad feels weak and my knee is swollen and stiff, so I can't take a long normal stride but I CAN walk a little bit. See?" I'm where I'm supposed to be. I just need to keep working out and trying to walk and tell myself to walk even when I don't want to anymore. 

Life is really that simple: ONE STEP AT A TIME - while every step seems simple it is a challenge (to some degree) and requires the utmost dedication or else it simply will not happen.

The Gay Vegans: Honoring World AIDS Day

From my friend Dan Hanley:

The Gay Vegans: Honoring World AIDS Day: As a gay and vegan blogger, I have noticed that whenever I blog about HIV or AIDS, fewer people read my blog. I think for many people, AIDS...

When Rehab Is Cut -- You Hurt Too (by Lee Woodruff)

An important article...

An article originally from the Huffington Post talks about the the real possibility that rehabilitation services and workers could be negatively impacted by budget cuts if we do not support Health Care Reform and the Affordable Care Act. This is my chance to support others and share (and relate to) others experiences about how rehab has changed and saved their lives. A heart felt thank you goes out to my team of rehabilitation experts at Boulder Orthopedic: Dr. Lauri Fulkerson, April Smith LPT, Caitlin, and Meagan.

Gabby Giffords' amazing story and the release of her book and home video have put rehabilitation medicine and its amazing therapists temporarily in the public eye. But I have no doubt it will soon fall back in the shadows of public consciousness. 

Medical rehabilitation isn't sexy. There's no rush of the emergency room -- no gurneys or defibrillators or physicians yelling orders in an environment of barely-controlled chaos. There's no discovering cures or fashioning a human heart out of stem cells. And, while George Clooney would make a handsome rehabilitation physician on TV, the networks aren't lining up to film a pilot involving a rehab hospital. 

Rehabilitation does not provide instant results; rather, it is a long, hard road. It is a near-relentless struggle over the course of weeks, months, and even years to help an individual who has been severely injured get back as close as possible to where they were before their injury. It can involve countless hours of hard work and determination just to remember the word for an apple, to gain the motor skills to hold a fork, and the ability to dress oneself again. 

It's a journey that most often involves families and friends. It is a road that my children and I walked with my husband Bob when he was severely injured by a roadside bomb in Iraq. But consider this: at some point every one of us will need expert rehabilitation care for a loved one or ourselves. How many of us know someone who has been in a car accident, or had a stroke, or broken a hip? As I move through my 50s, I'm more keenly aware of my own pressing mortality, the fact that anything can happen to myself, my loved ones and my family members. It's simply a fact of life. 

It was impossible not to think of our own journey when I watched the home video of Rep. Gabby Giffords working hard and making such great strides. Many things are possible on the journey of recovery. I see them at work every day with Bob. But none of my husband's achievements and his "getting back to himself" would have been possible without rehab. 

Sadly, the type of quality medical rehabilitation care that Bob and Rep. Gabby Giffords needed -- and the type of care that you or your loved ones may need in the future -- is at significant risk due to current proposals in Washington proposed as part of deficit reduction. These cuts will reduce patient access to care and threaten the viability of rehabilitation providers. Thousands of people in need of medical rehabilitation will no longer receive these services. Training as well as therapists and medical jobs will be cut -- hospitals will have no choice. 

Patients in rehabilitation hospitals are often at their most vulnerable. It's an emotional and scary time, usually following an injury, sudden event or illness. Most Americans already face very real limitations on their access to inpatient and outpatient rehabilitation care -- their insurance runs out or benefits stop before their treatment needs end. The average insurance plan for traumatic brain injury covers six weeks of rehab. That barely begins to scratch the surface of an injury that can take years to heal. 

Patients and their families should not unfairly bear the burden of balancing the federal budget. Cheaper is not better. Who would ever choose to see their catastrophically hurt loved one in a nursing home instead of a rehab hospital? But that will be the result if these cuts are approved.

Talk with these people, as well as our returning wounded veterans, about how overwhelming the access and financial challenges can be. At a time when our population is aging and returning veterans are in need of services in their local communities, services will be slashed or eliminated. Rehab is darn hard work -- placing challenging policy and additional access obstacles in front of these patients are not in anyone's interest. 

It's easy to put medical rehabilitation at the back-of-the-bus in medicine. But we need to fight cuts that will eliminate access to high quality care for your spouse, your grandmother, and your child. Otherwise, society and each of us will pay in many unanticipated ways, including higher costs, reduced quality of life for the disabled, and higher levels of intense stress for families and caregivers. 

Rehab saves lives and families. It saved mine. In my lowest moments, it was the energy, motivation, expertise, and commitment of the caregivers in rehab hospitals that got me through. I have a very clear memory of walking onto the floor of Bob's inpatient rehab hospital, my spirits at their lowest ebb. I had run out of gas, and my shoulders were hunched in a C-curve. A voice piped up from behind the desk. "Come with me Mrs. Woodruff," the young physical therapist commanded. She shut the door behind her tiny office, " has anyone asked you how you are today?" she inquired, as I burst into tears of gratitude and release. She then proceeded to give me a ten-minute shoulder massage that I will never forget. Her kindness and compassion humbled me that day. And it lifted me up. She had extended her care beyond simply focusing on the patient and offered it to an exhausted caregiver. That's just a tiny slice of the magic that takes place in rehab hospitals. We can't allow these much needed resources to be vastly diminished. 

With the skills and support of the therapists and doctors in medical rehabilitation hanging in the balance, I want to lend my voice to wake Washington up. It may not be a sexy, but it's a critical one.

Follow Lee Woodruff on Twitter: www.twitter.com/leemwoodruff 

Source: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lee-woodruff/when-rehab-is-cut-you-hur_b_1121049.html

 

Monumental past few days!

As I was updating my friend, Jane, of my recovery today over email I realized how monumental the past few days have been. Here's what I said:

"Holiday was good. Alon & I went down to Minturn (just past Vail) and spent time with his Aunt, Uncle, and bazillion cousins. Felt really good to get away and the long break was just what the doctor ordered! ...this was our first departure from Boulder in over 3 months.

"I am doing great! Last week had its hiccups, but I finally feel like I am fully transitioned to 100% weight bearing and using one crutch without much pain (still working on strength, balance, and stability). I still walk kinda funny, but we'll work on gait mechanics in PT [and in the pool]. I also took my first shower STANDING UP while we were in Minturn, so that was exciting... and made it to the second floor of BCAP for the first time this morning."

In addition, I made it out to coffee shops (Atlas and Trident) THREE times this weekend. THAT really makes me feel like I am getting back to my old self again. HOORAY!

Right now I am listening to Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire" and that also just adds to my good feelings and excitement to keep carrying on like a bad ass! Who doesn't want to dance when they here that song? :-) For your viewing and listening pleasure: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFTLKWw542g