What was in that Christmas present was a certificate for sessions with a personal trainer, Erica, and two airplane tickets to anywhere in the continental United States. Wow! Frank did good on the Christmas gift! In June, we would have our 25th wedding anniversary and everything seemed to come together for me. I wanted to be able to go on a trip with my husband and enjoy the time without having to worry or struggle physically. I was tired of feeling tired and not being happy with what I saw in the mirror. I wanted to look like the person I knew I was inside.
I spent the month of January trying to get my schedule together with Erica's schedule. Finally, we met for the first time at the end of January. That initial meeting was more like an interview. I was asked what my goal was and why I wanted to work with her. Hmmm, my goal. What was my goal? Then I heard my voice saying that I wanted to become more physically fit. Yes, that's it. Of course, I would like to lose the weight too but really it is about being more physically fit. I wanted to feel like I could physically enjoy life. I reluctantly went through an initial weighing and measurement session. There, we have all of the initial data. The next thing I knew I was looking at a food and exercise log. "Fill this out for me this week," Erica said. "Then we will talk about it." Oh great, what does what I eat have to do with anything? I agreed to it, even though I told my husband later that I might as well have what I wanted to eat since I had a feeling it might be the last time I did for a while. I figured that there was nowhere to go but up.
A few days later, I had my first personal training session with Erica. I went to her house where she had her own studio in the basement complete with machines and other tools. "Step up on the treadmill," she said. "You're kidding, right?" I asked. "No, I'm not." I cautiously stepped on the treadmill. A treadmill moves under your feet. I expressed my apprehension about it and got a "well, let's just try." Erica turned the treadmill on at the lowest level and I freaked. "I can't do this," I declared. "Ok." The treadmill was stopped. "It will be harder but we'll find other ways for you to warm up." She asked me if I rode on escalators and I described my experiences to her. Later she confided in me that she never had a client who couldn't do the treadmill. This showed that my physical issues had definitely affected my thinking. You have to believe you can do something before you can do it. I had stopped believing in me.
I made it through that first session and decided once I went home that I was going to do one of two things: either I would indeed improve in every area or I would prove that working with a personal trainer wasn't going to work either. After all, I had tried many times programs like Weight Watchers and joined several different gyms at different points in my life. None of it had worked to this point. So I would do everything in my power to make this work. If it didn't work, it wasn't going to be because of me.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Chapter 3: After Physical Therapy, Then What?
My time with physical therapy ended around the same time things began to heat back up for school in the fall. I had gotten to the point that I was walking without a brace on my knee even though I was still struggling to walk any more than a short distance. I also struggled mightily with balance. This is something they began to work with me on during physical therapy yet I still had a long way to go.
Before the fall, I had gotten to the point that escalators made me uncomfortable especially going down. The feeling of something moving under my feet was more than I could manage. After the fall, this progressed to being escalator phobic. I would actually walk further to avoid the escalators at the mall. I would wait in line with all of the moms with babies in strollers for the elevator. Of course, I could have used the stairs but for some reason that didn't occur to me. I came to realize that balance was a major issue that I had to overcome in order to keep progressing.
I started to look for ways to remain active. The physical therapist had started me with using a Total Gym. I decided that one piece of equipment had potential for helping me to remain active so I began to look for a Total Gym I could afford. I finally found the exact same model that I had been used to using at the store so I purchased it. Once it was set up, I watched the instructional video and read through the directions. I got on to try some upper body exercises and could not believe how weak I was. When did that happen? The fall I experienced impacted my knee, not my upper body. The strength I had once known was now gone. How depressing! My daughter and son are both athletic and have used equipment similar to this before. I decided they would need to help me get acclimated to using it. Both worked with me for quite some time until I decided it was going to take more than what they could do.
I kept looking for things that could help me with my goal of staying active. The school I teach at is a very unique place. We have facilities there you might not typically see in a private Christian school. One such facility is an aquatics center. One day an email found its way to my inbox. The email stated that a group of female faculty members were getting together to do water aerobics twice a week after school. Yes! This, I felt, just might be an answer to prayer. I quickly responded and that day went to purchase the few items I would need in order to participate.
Water aerobics was really good for my knee. After each session, I felt great about myself even though half of the things we did I really couldn't do very well. My range of motion was not what it needed to be and my stamina for physical activity was close to nill. Still, I was there and I was trying. I had sought out a solution to help me remain active. This in and of itself represented significant progress.
When November came around, the stress of operating a school took over most of us and our group fizzled out. I had two good months of participating regularly in the water aerobics classes. Now, however, I was back where I had been in August. I continued to look for activities that might help me stay active. One day while attending a function in my neighborhood, I met Erica, a neighbor and personal trainer. I talked to her about my recent past and took her information. After that event, I went home and told my husband that I wanted sessions with her for Christmas. Little did I know, she would become key to my future. At that point, I didn't think about Erica again until I opened my Christmas present from my husband.
Before the fall, I had gotten to the point that escalators made me uncomfortable especially going down. The feeling of something moving under my feet was more than I could manage. After the fall, this progressed to being escalator phobic. I would actually walk further to avoid the escalators at the mall. I would wait in line with all of the moms with babies in strollers for the elevator. Of course, I could have used the stairs but for some reason that didn't occur to me. I came to realize that balance was a major issue that I had to overcome in order to keep progressing.
I started to look for ways to remain active. The physical therapist had started me with using a Total Gym. I decided that one piece of equipment had potential for helping me to remain active so I began to look for a Total Gym I could afford. I finally found the exact same model that I had been used to using at the store so I purchased it. Once it was set up, I watched the instructional video and read through the directions. I got on to try some upper body exercises and could not believe how weak I was. When did that happen? The fall I experienced impacted my knee, not my upper body. The strength I had once known was now gone. How depressing! My daughter and son are both athletic and have used equipment similar to this before. I decided they would need to help me get acclimated to using it. Both worked with me for quite some time until I decided it was going to take more than what they could do.
I kept looking for things that could help me with my goal of staying active. The school I teach at is a very unique place. We have facilities there you might not typically see in a private Christian school. One such facility is an aquatics center. One day an email found its way to my inbox. The email stated that a group of female faculty members were getting together to do water aerobics twice a week after school. Yes! This, I felt, just might be an answer to prayer. I quickly responded and that day went to purchase the few items I would need in order to participate.
Water aerobics was really good for my knee. After each session, I felt great about myself even though half of the things we did I really couldn't do very well. My range of motion was not what it needed to be and my stamina for physical activity was close to nill. Still, I was there and I was trying. I had sought out a solution to help me remain active. This in and of itself represented significant progress.
When November came around, the stress of operating a school took over most of us and our group fizzled out. I had two good months of participating regularly in the water aerobics classes. Now, however, I was back where I had been in August. I continued to look for activities that might help me stay active. One day while attending a function in my neighborhood, I met Erica, a neighbor and personal trainer. I talked to her about my recent past and took her information. After that event, I went home and told my husband that I wanted sessions with her for Christmas. Little did I know, she would become key to my future. At that point, I didn't think about Erica again until I opened my Christmas present from my husband.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Chapter 2: A Shift in Priorities
Physical therapy is never easy. I had experienced physical therapy once before just after surgery on both of my feet. Honestly, I didn't remember much from that previous experience so I really didn't know what to expect. Any physical therapist worth their salt pushes you, this I knew. There was one other truth I knew as well, if I expected to get better and work back toward a normal existence, I was going to have to work and do whatever it was the physical therapist told me to do.
My goal was to go to physical therapy at least twice a week, with three times a week being optimal. I began to look forward to my appointments. If I missed an appointment, I felt disappointment. I would schedule my appointments so that I could meet with the PT as much as possible. Even if I was going out of town, I would try to work it in before I left.
This is a far cry from what I had been doing. Just like many mothers and wives, I had put myself last for years. I would cart the kids around to their various activities, sacrificing any of my own activities to make it work. I would work around my husband's schedule and activities to make sure everything "worked" for the family. In order to help bring in more income for our family, I pursued higher level degrees. Basically, I had taken myself off the priority list. I told myself that it was necessary.
Now I was forced into putting myself back on the priority list. If the kids needed to go somewhere at a time I had a scheduled appointment, they had to work out rides. My family was beginning to work around some of my needs. What was interesting to me was that they didn't mind. They just wanted to see me "whole."
Just doing basic things was difficult at that point. I could tell that I was gaining strength as I progressed with my workouts. I looked forward to those physical therapy appointments even though I was exhausted after each one. When the time came that my insurance wouldn't pay for any more appointments, I was sad. Physical therapy had become one of those positive moments in my life. How would I keep progressing without the help? Could I do this on my own? All I knew was I didn't want to quit. I had started something big, something positive, something life-changing that I didn't want to end. I kept hearing the voice of my PT, "You need to do something the rest of your life."
My goal was to go to physical therapy at least twice a week, with three times a week being optimal. I began to look forward to my appointments. If I missed an appointment, I felt disappointment. I would schedule my appointments so that I could meet with the PT as much as possible. Even if I was going out of town, I would try to work it in before I left.
This is a far cry from what I had been doing. Just like many mothers and wives, I had put myself last for years. I would cart the kids around to their various activities, sacrificing any of my own activities to make it work. I would work around my husband's schedule and activities to make sure everything "worked" for the family. In order to help bring in more income for our family, I pursued higher level degrees. Basically, I had taken myself off the priority list. I told myself that it was necessary.
Now I was forced into putting myself back on the priority list. If the kids needed to go somewhere at a time I had a scheduled appointment, they had to work out rides. My family was beginning to work around some of my needs. What was interesting to me was that they didn't mind. They just wanted to see me "whole."
Just doing basic things was difficult at that point. I could tell that I was gaining strength as I progressed with my workouts. I looked forward to those physical therapy appointments even though I was exhausted after each one. When the time came that my insurance wouldn't pay for any more appointments, I was sad. Physical therapy had become one of those positive moments in my life. How would I keep progressing without the help? Could I do this on my own? All I knew was I didn't want to quit. I had started something big, something positive, something life-changing that I didn't want to end. I kept hearing the voice of my PT, "You need to do something the rest of your life."
Chapter 1: Falling into the Journey
It was a typical Saturday morning in early May. My daughter had just arrived home from college for the summer a couple of days prior. My daughter is like a ray of sunshine in an otherwise grey sky. She lights up the place when she is home. I was so excited that Rebekah was home and had planned a girls' day outing for the two of us. We were going shopping and doing "girl" stuff since I'd had months of dealing with two guys, my husband and son, by myself.
After eating breakfast, I quickly started my shower. Having my mind on the day's activities, I somehow found a slick spot in my shower and no sooner had I turned on the water, I fell knee first. Now that might not seem like a big deal to some of you. What you have to realize is that I was 100 pounds overweight, an arthritic and hadn't exercised in, well, I don't know when. On top of this, I had recently been noticing differences in my physical state such as losing my balance and losing strength.
There I was on the shower floor in a position that resembled a cheerleader-type move not to mention that I was in my birthday suit. All I could do was scream for help. I couldn't move either of my legs and I was in major pain. When arthritics even just bump a joint, the pain can be unbearable. Never mind the type of fall I had experienced. Now, I can tell you that the bigger they are the harder they fall really is true.
The first person to reach my bathroom door was my teenage son. He came to the door and called through it, "Mom, are you ok?" "No," I shout. "I need help." He cracks the door. "Don't come in here!" I shout, after all this was my teenage son and I was in my birthday suit. "Go get your sister!" Rebekah comes to the cracked door. "Mom, are you ok?" "No! I need help." She starts to come in the door. "Go get your dad!" I shout.
Meanwhile, my husband had been working in the yard. He heard the commotion all the way outside. At this point, he comes into the house to find out what's going on. It took him about 20 minutes to help me get up off the bathroom floor. At this point, we are realizing that my knee has something majorly wrong with it. The left knee was three times the size of the right knee and I couldn't put any weight on it.
We made it to the doctor on Monday and found out I had torn my ACL and fractured the tibia in the left knee. My orthopaedist determined that I was not a candidate for ACL surgery. While I was relieved that surgery was not in my future, I didn't really understand what the doctor was saying to me until my rheumatologist explained about a month later that due to my weight the likelihood of a successful surgery was significantly minimized.
Then came my first meeting with the physical therapist. I will never forget what he told me that first meeting, "Resign yourself right now to the fact that you will have to do something for the rest of your life to keep your knee strong if you are to regain a normal functioning of the knee." Did he know who he was talking to? I was the queen of avoiding physical activity. Ever since I had been diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis in college, I had rationalized away any thought of regular exercise. When shopping, I would circle the parking lot for what seemed like an eternity just to get a parking place close enough that I wouldn't have to walk much. I once asked my rheumatologist if I could get a handicapped sticker for my car. After all, if I was hurting, I didn't need to do anything else to aggravate the condition, right?
Thus, my journey began.
After eating breakfast, I quickly started my shower. Having my mind on the day's activities, I somehow found a slick spot in my shower and no sooner had I turned on the water, I fell knee first. Now that might not seem like a big deal to some of you. What you have to realize is that I was 100 pounds overweight, an arthritic and hadn't exercised in, well, I don't know when. On top of this, I had recently been noticing differences in my physical state such as losing my balance and losing strength.
There I was on the shower floor in a position that resembled a cheerleader-type move not to mention that I was in my birthday suit. All I could do was scream for help. I couldn't move either of my legs and I was in major pain. When arthritics even just bump a joint, the pain can be unbearable. Never mind the type of fall I had experienced. Now, I can tell you that the bigger they are the harder they fall really is true.
The first person to reach my bathroom door was my teenage son. He came to the door and called through it, "Mom, are you ok?" "No," I shout. "I need help." He cracks the door. "Don't come in here!" I shout, after all this was my teenage son and I was in my birthday suit. "Go get your sister!" Rebekah comes to the cracked door. "Mom, are you ok?" "No! I need help." She starts to come in the door. "Go get your dad!" I shout.
Meanwhile, my husband had been working in the yard. He heard the commotion all the way outside. At this point, he comes into the house to find out what's going on. It took him about 20 minutes to help me get up off the bathroom floor. At this point, we are realizing that my knee has something majorly wrong with it. The left knee was three times the size of the right knee and I couldn't put any weight on it.
We made it to the doctor on Monday and found out I had torn my ACL and fractured the tibia in the left knee. My orthopaedist determined that I was not a candidate for ACL surgery. While I was relieved that surgery was not in my future, I didn't really understand what the doctor was saying to me until my rheumatologist explained about a month later that due to my weight the likelihood of a successful surgery was significantly minimized.
Then came my first meeting with the physical therapist. I will never forget what he told me that first meeting, "Resign yourself right now to the fact that you will have to do something for the rest of your life to keep your knee strong if you are to regain a normal functioning of the knee." Did he know who he was talking to? I was the queen of avoiding physical activity. Ever since I had been diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis in college, I had rationalized away any thought of regular exercise. When shopping, I would circle the parking lot for what seemed like an eternity just to get a parking place close enough that I wouldn't have to walk much. I once asked my rheumatologist if I could get a handicapped sticker for my car. After all, if I was hurting, I didn't need to do anything else to aggravate the condition, right?
Thus, my journey began.
A Beginning
I have been on a journey for about over a year now that friends and family have been encouraging me to write about. This blog is my beginning of documenting the journey. Moving from the Sidelines refers to my journey of regaining life. I hope you enjoy reading about this journey.
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