Lessons In Patience: Twin Planks Edition

The past year has taught me many lessons. A few of the lessons were easy, but the vast majority were not-so-easy. I mean, nothing can really be easy when you go from being ridiculously active and always on the go, to having a broken back with an incomplete spinal cord injury. Physically, emotionally, not the lessons that I could have ever imagined dealing with... at any age. This past month, I've had an extra dose of the not-so-easy lessons. While I know the bionic life is going to be full of lessons of all shapes and sizes, the month of March sure was a doozie. 

There's Always Next Season...

To be honest, it's been coming for awhile. I waited 9.5 months to get back on skis for the first time since breaking my back, only to deal with the most brutal conditions and spraining my gimpy, nerve-damaged ankle. The bright side of that whole ordeal was that I got on a lift (it had a safety bar AND the lift operator was doing their job) and got in a few turns. That in itself was huge. Since that weekend in early December, I hadn't been on skis again until Dave and I went tame ski touring a few times in the Mammoth Lakes Basin around mid-February (see previous post). The tame skinning adventures were baby steps in the right direction. Well, sometimes when you're taking baby steps, you have to do-si-do around those steps.

Breaking trail on the way to Little Lakes Valley

While my body is adapting to having skis on my feet again and getting use to the feeling of having a free heel, sometimes you need to know when to call it and save locking the heel for next season. In early March, my back started flaring up. It was similar to previous flare ups, but at the same time was different and more intense. It felt like a very tight, sharp pain running down my lower spine, near the hardware. Unlike previous times when it was the upper hardware that was irritated, it was the lower region of the hardware, around the L2 area. I tried my go-to tricks that helped with previous problems - heat, ibuprofen, rest, etc - but nothing seemed to really work. I had a few extra tame weekends. I took some unpaid time off work to rest it to see if it would help (not good for someone who has massive bills to pay, but I've gotta listen to the body). Finally after about three weeks of a very grumpy back, it seemed to calm down a little. Chris, my PT, seems to think that it's most likely stress on the joint below the fusion. It makes complete sense and so we're focusing on exercises and such to help. While I can't pinpoint the cause of the flare up and it's most likely a combination of things, I'm just going to have to accept that it will happen from time to time. Welcome to the "new normal"... again. 

It's no secret that the Sierra is having a crappy snow year. That, along with the bionic back still adapting to things, made it a relatively easy decision to just spend the rest of the ski season skinning around rather than hitting the slopes. I'd still be able to get a great workout and strengthen muscles that need it, but I'd also get skis on the feet time. It's been just over a year since both surgeries and I'm still healing. With all the progress I've been making, too much could go wrong on the slopes and I don't want to take that chance. Backpacking season is quickly approaching and I don't want to risk anything happening before then. I didn't get to backpack last year and I don't want to have another year of that. So, the decision was simple... there is always next winter! Needless to say, I thought I'd be perfectly fine with that. The truth is, I'm still bitter about not being on the slopes again this year. The bitterness is very much alive and kicking. It's not bad when I'm skinning around, but when I read reports of fresh powder it hits hard. When we are around Mammoth and I see people skiing, it hits really hard. I know that I made the best decision for me. Sometimes the best decisions are the toughest ones. I'm going to keep doing tame ski tours while I can, but the major focus is on getting myself ready for skeeter season in the Sierra... err, I mean hiking season!

I always smile when I see snow-covered mountains.

Learning To Listen

Not only was the past month all about learning to listen to my body, but it was also about learning to listen to what really matters. Listening to what makes me happy, listening to those that matter to me,... and tuning out the negative. The past few weeks, the financial stress from the bionic back situation has hit really hard. The fact that I needed to take time off for my back didn't help the situation. I've been pretty down lately as a result. It's been hard to focus on the positive instead of all the negative, when that's what's looming in your face. I know that somehow it will all work itself out, it has to, but it's not easy to deal with. It also hasn't been easy to let go of those in your life that aren't really who they appeared to be. After months of hanging onto friendships that I thought were genuine, it's time to let go and move on (I don't like fake people). Luckily I have some really great friends and coworkers that are always encouraging me and are so supportive. Dave has been an amazing strength through this too. The past year hasn't been easy for either of us, and he's been like a rock for me through all of the ups and downs. 

I'm learning to listen to my body. I'm learning to tune out the negative. Now it's time to listen to and focus on what makes me happy and really matters. Friends. Family. Nature. Hiking in the Sierra. Spending my days with Dave. Lunch dates with Sandy. Having Laura yell "don't look at the trees!" Being bionic buddies for life with Summer. Talking about EVO with Karen. Planning a return trip to Precipice Lake with Terri. Getting harassed at the PT office by Chris and Laura. The list goes on and on. I know that there are still going to be many rough days ahead for me, but I just need to remember to listen to what matters. What really matters is that I'm alive and walking again. 

The Bionic Life: Year One

As I write this, I can't believe that it has already been a year. One year ago, my life changed forever. In a split second, I went from getting ready to ski my first black diamond run to not being sure if I'd be able to ski again. I went from sitting on a ski lift to being sprawled out on the icy snow in pain. One year ago, I became bionic. 

If you find a path with no obstacles, it probably doesn't lead anywhere. :: F.A. Clark

This past week has been interesting. Over the past year, I'd become use to the extremely vivid flashbacks of the fall. Well, I mean as use to it as one can get, because let's be real, you can't ever get use to something that frightening. It happened a year ago and I still have nightmares about it. Those flashbacks I was anticipating. What I wasn't anticipating were the flashbacks to significant memories from the days leading up to the fall. I remember the significant snowfall that Wednesday morning and how happy it made me (my new Subaru finally got to some snow to play in). I remember Mike sending me a comic about skiing black diamonds while he was in Seattle. I remember opening up to Kim on Friday afternoon and her giving me a "homework assignment" (which is almost a year overdue now). I remember Dave and I doing our traditional Friday night In-N-Out dinner and drive to Oakhurst (for skiing on Saturday at Badger Pass). Why I remember these specific memories, I don't know. Maybe because they are my last significant memories of what the "old normal" life was like for me?! Maybe it's just my mind wishing things were back to the way they were before being bionic?! I really don't know, but they've made this past week emotionally draining. I'm just happy that I'm able to have memories, good or bad, these days. 

Extremely Lucky 

One reminder I've never needed over the past year is just how lucky I am to be alive AND walking. I remember laying in the snow and making sure I could feel and move my legs and arms. I remember how frustrating it was the day after the first surgery to only be able to do two baby steps with a walker, BUT I remember how amazing it was that I could take any steps. It really hit home when I went back and looked at my pre-surgery CT scan recently. I'll just include one frame from the scan... it says all that needs to be said. 

See that fragment in the spinal column? I should not be walking.

I was lucky to have a great surgeon. I was lucky to have a great PT team. I was lucky to be such an active person before the accident. Most of all, I was lucky to have such amazing support from so many people. Dave was by my side through all of this. I can't even find the words to describe the level of support and love he has provided through all of this. The same applies for Mike and Kim. They went above and beyond the call of duty once they found out what happened and they treated me like family. Sandy would always come and visit me after work, bringing me baked goodies and keeping me company on days when I needed it the most. I'm pretty sure she was secretly trying to get me to gain a little weight back, but I wasn't complaining with all of the noms she made! I can't even put into words how awesome Natacha's support and encouragement has been. Jenn was always checking in on me and great at making me delicious Pad Thai! There are so many others I could name - coworkers, family, friends from all over the social media world, etc. - I am very lucky to have had so much amazing support. Actually, lucky might not be the right word... fortunate seems more appropriate. I am very fortunate and grateful for all of the love and support from so many over the past year. 

Moving Forward... 

I don't know what the future in the "new normal" holds for me, but I do know that I'm not going to stop pushing myself to get back to doing what I love. There are some things that are just going to take time to heal, and there are some things that might not heal any more. I don't remember what my legs and feet use to feel like before I broke my back, but I do know that I miss it. I don't like the "new normal" of itchy/tingly sensations in them all the time, but I'm just happy I can feel something! I don't know if I'm ever going to be the crazy backpacker like I use to be, but I do know that I'm going to try. I mean, who would have ever thought I'd be doing strenuous 10+ mile hikes this past summer?! I was hoping I would be able to, but I didn't think that it would happen as quickly and as successfully as it did. The progress I have made, and continue to make, still blows my mind...

The biggest question mark for me has been skiing. In "The Return to Skiing", I discussed a lot of the challenges I faced my first time back on skis. After two or so months off the twin planks, the past two weekends we decided to do a very tame ski tour around the Mammoth Lakes Basin. It had been suggested that I try cross country skiing a few times before hitting the slopes again as a way to get use to the feel of skis on my feet again. Well, Dave and I decided that we should just skip the skinny skis and go straight for the AT setups. I mean, why not? I can get use to skis on my feet again and be demoing the gear that we eventually want to buy. All in all, it went pretty well. It was fun touring around the basin and just being on skis again. I could definitely tell that I was physically stronger than I was back in December when I first demoed the same Dynafit setup (although I am now being reminded about muscles I forgot I had). The mind games kicked in when we started going downhill, even with how ridiculously tame it was. The same issues arose as in December - nervous about falling, not being able to control the skis too well - but there were small improvements. I might have looked silly being nervous about going down such a tame incline, but I really don't care. I know it will get better as I am on skis more. I mean, I can see a noticeable improvement from last weekend to this. Will I be carving up the groomers again anytime soon?! I don't know, but I'm just happy to be back on skis and taking baby steps in the right direction!

I'm stoked to be on skis again... even if it's tame skiing.

... and Moving On

How do I even begin to really move on from what happened? If I could, I'd love to snap my fingers and have life be back to the way it was, but I can't. For the most part, it's been getting a little easier to deal with the "new normal", but there are times when it's hard. My body is getting stronger every day, but it's a mental and physical struggle to deal with the things that I can't do anymore or that don't come as easily. I wish my brain would adapt to the aches and pains faster, and that the nerves would hurry up and heal, but it takes time. After a CT scan of my back last month, I found out that my hardware and spine were solid. SOLID. This comes after taking a tumble or two skiing the previous month. This comes after all the hiking I did this past summer. I still have to be extremely careful about what I do and making sure to avoid twisting as much as possible, but the voicemail from my neurosurgeon saying that it was SOLID was a huge relief for me. That news helped me "move on" a little so I can start to focus more on doing what I love to do rather than constantly wondering how my back is doing. 

The mental side of moving on is proving to be difficult. A huge part of me still wants my old life back, even though I'm well aware of the fact that I can never have that back. There are many times when I start tearing up because of how much I miss the way things were. No amount of tears or wishing is going to bring back the old me. There is no instant fix for this. I'm always going to have rough patches, but that's part of life - bionic or not. I just have to keep reminding myself of how far I've come in such a short amount of time, and how fortunate I am to be alive and walking.

The support and love from friends has definitely been a huge help in the moving on process. The outpouring of support on rough days has been amazing and uplifting. It's not always an instant fix, but it has helped in ways I cannot describe. I honestly don't think I'd be progressing this fantastically without all of the love and support from so many people. I've seen relationships grow from all of this - Dave and I are closer than ever and other friendships have strengthened. I've also seen how the dynamics of some relationships can be in a constant state of flux after I started hiking and skiing again. That one I have really struggled with over the past several months and in a way has added another layer of complexity to the healing process. That being said, if moving on were easy, I'd have already done it. It's all about baby steps...

A friend recently suggested that I should get myself something tangible at the one year mark as a reminder to myself of how much progress I've made in the past year. I wasn't really sure what would meet that need until yesterday when Dave and I went skiing at Mammoth. Why not get myself that sweet Dynafit AT ski setup that I was going to get 50 weeks ago on that vacation we had planned on taking... until I broke my back?! To me, it was the perfect thing to remind myself just how far I've come since that fateful day one year ago!

I finally got them... 50 weeks later!

One year ago my life changed forever. It wasn't by choice, but it was what I was dealt on February 23, 2013. Do I wish it never happened? Of course, but it did happen. It's time to stop looking backwards. It's time to start looking ahead and making the most of the journey. How do I plan on marking the one year anniversary? I had a date with skis... 

We can rebuild her. We have the technology. :: 2

A Second Date with the OR

Just as Dave showed up with my GTL, I was told it was no more liquids or food time. Dr Levy gave me the option of surgery that evening or wait until Monday. There was no way in hell I wanted to wait until Monday, I wanted this over with so I could start pushing myself in PT. Little did I know I'd be stuck in the hospital until Tuesday regardless...

I had already survived one surgery, but the thought of the second one was scaring me still. Mike & Kim came up to be with us a few hours beforehand. I was so grateful to not only have Dave by my side, but to also have two of my biggest supporters there to help put me at ease. I knew everything would be okay, but it really helped to have three people I love to death there with me.

It was time for surgery. The pre-op room was more entertaining this time around. The anesthesiologist wanted to know what music I wanted playing as I went under and I just drew a blank. I remember Dr Levy coming in to see me and he was eating sour patch jelly beans. I was jealous. I remember being wheeled into the operating room and being just a little weirded out by it. I remember hearing Rocket Man...    

Stronger. Better. Faster.

Waking up in pain is never a good sign and this might have been a new level of it for me. I guess that happens when you are laying on the 8+ inch spine incision. It was a friendly reminder that I never want to have spine surgery again! Every bump the bed went over on the way back to my room made me want to scream. That night made the night after my first surgery seem like a cakewalk. 

The Bionic Back. Insane.

The next several days were a blur and seemed to drag on. I still hated the hospital food and barely had the ability to stomach any of it. I still hated having to go for X-rays and CT scans (mostly because those taking me didn't know how to do a proper bed-to-gurney transfer), but I had some badass hardware in my back now. I was still going stir-crazy. I just wanted to make a break for it... only I wasn't fast or sneaky enough yet.

PT was going quite well, even the day after the second surgery. I was in pain from the operation, but I was pretty much able to pick right back up where I left off with walking. Transferring from the bed to the wheelchair, walker or bedside commode was getting easier every day. I'll admit, it still was slow and painful, but I was doing it on my own. It was also a little weird because it felt like my back weighted an extra 20 pounds or so. It was difficult for me to stand with the walker and brush my teeth because my knees and hips were weak. I felt like such a failure at times because I needed someone there with me when I was brushing my teeth so I didn't collapse. How do you even begin to adjust to things like that? Life suddenly became a game of adapting...

Two incisions and a drain spot. Lovely.

The last few days at the hospital were quite frustrating. I was very thankful for everyone that helped me get through it because it was not easy. The combination of lots of pain killers and iron pills made my body hate me more than it already did. Not knowing when I was leaving for Health South was also complicating things. Eventually everything worked itself out on all levels. 

Finally, after days of waiting and not knowing, my ride to Health South was here. For the first time since arriving at the hospital, I had an awesome bed to gurney transfer too (why did it finally happen on the last day?!)! After 11 days and two surgeries in Fresno, I was heading to Bakersfield for my next adventure...

** Disclaimer: My heart and head weren't really in this post. The post following this one will explain a bit of the why they weren't into it. I wanted to share a bit about the second half of my hospital stay, but I am probably going to be thinking of different ways to share the progress on this blog when I start the next part of the adventure (acute therapy at Health South).

We can rebuild her. We have the technology. :: 1

Waiting

I felt like I was caught in a whirlwind laying on the gurney in the trauma room. There was so much going on around me and it almost felt like I wasn't there. I honestly don't remember much of the initial few hours I was in so much pain. I remember being annoyed because none of the doctors would tell me why they were only focusing on my back and not the pain in my legs/feet. I remember them somehow getting the rest of my clothes off aside from the sports bra. I remember how painful it was having the sheet draped over my feet and specifically asking them to pull it off my feet. I remember waiting for the X-ray. I remember them transferring me to the table for the X-ray and how much it fucking hurt. I didn't think it was possible to be in more pain. I was wrong.

I remember being put in another trauma room with a kid that wasn't doing so good. Trust me, definitely not doing good. I remember finally seeing Dave at some point. I remember seeing the X-ray image. I will never forget that image. I was broken. That's when it hit me. That's when I knew nothing was going to be the same again.

Not pretty. An L1 burst fracture.

The Hallway

There is nothing quite as awesome as being put in the hallway to wait... and wait... and wait. I remember the nurses rotating between morphine and some other liquid painkiller in the IV. I remember Dave handling the "letting everyone know what was going on" aspect of things because I was in no shape for it mentally. Honestly, I don't think either of us were mentally prepared for it or anything that was to come. I remember emailing back and forth with Kim about the situation and being scared. I remember getting a text from Mike joking about "no more cartoons for you" and it made me smile and giggle a little (inside joke from earlier in the week). Yes, I actually smiled for what seemed like the first time since before the fall. I don't remember much of what else happened in the hall and maybe it's for the best. I'll let Dave enjoy those memories of crazy patients pissing on themselves that I clearly forgot for a reason. 

I somehow managed to get a little sleep in the hallway. How that happened, I don't know. As we waited and waited until surgery, I was happy to have a few visitors. Sandy, Jenn, and Steve made several hour drive to spend some time with me before surgery; it meant the world to me. As shitty as I felt, it really helped to see them. I was on a lot of drugs and scared to death about surgery, but they helped make the ordeal easier to handle. I know they helped put Dave at ease too... or they at least gave him a distraction from what was going on.

The time had finally arrived after several delays, they were taking me to the pre-op room. I was scared to be going to surgery, but so happy to be getting out of the hallway. I remember Dave was in there. I remember a needle being put in my IV. That's all I remember...

We Can Rebuild Her. We Have The Technology.

I remember waking up in the post-op room. My back was in pain, but the shooting pains in my legs and feet were gone. I remember being taken to the elevator and Dave, Jenn & Steve, and Mike & Kim being there. I was still in a daze and didn't say much, but was so grateful to see all of them. I was surrounded by people I love and really had no way of showing my appreciation for all of them being there.

That night marked the first of many, many challenging nights. Sleeping was difficult. Between the pain in my back and left side (where the incision was), the annoying circulation things on my calves, and the bed movements, I didn't know if I was going to get any sleep. On top of that, needing help to turn on my right side was tough for me. Nothing was comfortable. I remember the nurse being really helpful and supportive, but it was still a long night. 

The next day was a huge smack in the face and a preview of the long road ahead for me. It started off well - Dave was there by my side, the neurosurgeon stopped in and said everything looked good from their end, the flowers that Mike & Kim brought were beautiful. I was having a really hard time being stuck in bed all the time, but I didn't really have any other option. It all really hit when PT paid me a visit. It all started with the log roll to get out of bed. My legs didn't want to cooperate and it was hard to push myself up because of the back pain. Standing up from bed wasn't easy, but I did it with some help. Then came the blow - trying to walk. I could barely move my legs. I managed two or three baby steps and my left foot was uncooperative. It was like I was hit by a semi. I felt like I hit rock bottom at that point. How does someone who runs up and down mountain passes in the Sierra all the time deal with barely managing to move her legs?! Not well. Not well at all. I knew it would get better, but at the time it felt so hopeless. I was really grateful Dave was there for encouragement and a shoulder to cry on. After I told Kim what happened, she told me to "celebrate that you can stand". It was true. Things could have been a lot worse. To this day, that has stuck with me. After what happened, I will always celebrate that I can stand. 

It was rough over the next few days. Dave and I were going stir-crazy. He was going back and forth between the hospital and the hotel and I was just, well, spending my days in room 904B. I still don't know how he did it. He was always there being supportive, spending hours upon hours at my bedside. When I was struggling with anything from PT to dealing the pain to, well, anything, he was always there. He is amazing.

PT was improving day by day. I went from barely taking two steps, to taking 10 steps in the hall, to walking almost all the way down the hall. As someone who hiked 10-15 miles/day with significant elevation gain every weekend, I never thought walking down a hallway would be so exhausting. I wanted to keep pushing myself though, to go a little farther every PT session. It was frustrating at times, but I could see the progress every day. I was transferring to/from the bed more on my own, sitting up more and almost standing up on my own. I was still struggling with not being able to get my legs back up onto the bed and not being able to pull my feet up when laying in bed, but I was still seeing progress.

The outpouring of support and love from friends since the accident really helped me survive being stuck in the hospital. Dave and I were overwhelmed by all of it and couldn't thank everyone enough. Calls, visits, messages. So much love and support. I remember getting a phone call from my arm-twisting buddy, Stacey, which totally made my day. She always finds a way to make me giggle. Our hiking buddy, Natacha, and Jenn & Al from work came to visit me and keep us company for a few hours. The support from Mike & Kim was beyond amazing; they are like family. Mike liked to send me words of encouragement from time to time. He's also quite the jokester too because I found out from Kim that he asked the surgeon to fix my attitude. I have yet to pay him back for that comment - there will be lots of post-it notes and paper airplanes. Kim was always texting me to see how I was doing, checking on my progress, sending words of encouragement, etc. She was great at making me laugh when I needed it and just being there when I needed to 'chat'. Mike and Kim are just amazing, there is no other way to put it. 

Five days after the accident, I was using the walker in the hallway during PT and my neurosurgeon walked by us and watched for a bit. He said he was impressed with how much I was walking so quickly after surgery. He must have seen something or realized just how active of a person I was, because later that morning I found out that he wanted to do a second procedure. That afternoon, we were still waiting to hear what the second operation was and when it would be. Nobody seemed to have answers for us, so all we could do was wait... and be frustrated. That night I didn't sleep well. The thought of a second surgery, and thinking I might have to start recovery all over again, scared me.

The next morning, the news came. I found out I was having surgery that evening.

To be continued...