Category Archives: Running

Anxious

Posted on by

0

There is one thing that I am particularly good at, and that is worrying about and overthinking most things. As you can imagine, this whole surgery process was one big continuous anxious event.

I had three months to wait between scheduling surgery and the actual surgery date. While this is fairly standard for anyone getting a PAO, due to the limited specialists in the states, I do not recommend waiting this long. If you are like me, you will take advantage of that time to read about it, talk to other people that had the surgery, think about it, and learn as much as possible about the surgery and recovery. That probably sounds like a good thing, to be over prepared, but it was horrible for my anxiety. By mid-May, about halfway through my waiting period, I had stopped researching altogether and I had to remove myself from the amazing Facebook support group I had become a part of. I had learned TOO much, and was constantly thinking about the negatives, what-if’s, risks, and worst case scenarios. Surgery filled every thought I had, and became so unhealthy because there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. If I wanted my hip to get better, I need the surgery. I can either get it now, while I am young and healthy and childless, or wait until my symptoms are more extreme in my 30’s or 40’s, when I have small children to take care of and my body won’t bounce back as quickly, and risk having to get a total hip replacement. The PAO is a hip preservation surgery to hopefully stave off the need to ever get a THR, as those greatly limit your activities forever.

So by the time my surgery arrived, I was not really in a good place mentally. I had tried to stop thinking about it at all and go into surgery with a very open mind, prepared to kick butt in recovery, but if I’m being honest, I felt like a small child inside throwing a tantrum. The day before my surgery, this past Sunday, I refused to pack my hospital bag for the longest time. I was in a state of denial about what was about to happen. Most of my day was filled with on-and-off panic attacks and lots of tears. Why was I doing this to myself? Why me? Why now? Is there anyway I can get out of the surgery? Maybe I don’t need to be active ever again! I can give up running and walking and sports and comfortable pregnancies and childbirth, right?

It was horrible. And then I had the surgery the following morning.

Periacetabular Osteotomy

Posted on by

0

Hello all,

I must apologize for my absence. I promise it was for a mostly good reason. Remember how I said back in January one of my goals was to go to the gym more and run, but that I was still in physical therapy for some hip issues?

Turns out these hip issues aren’t just a little fixable problem. It’s a HUGE fixable problem, and it’s called hip dysplasia. Basically my hip sockets are too shallow so the head of my femur doesn’t sit in the acetabulum deep enough, thus causing instability, weakness, pain, and eventually osteoarthritis. Luckily, I have zero arthritis in my hips and I’m pretty young and overall healthy, allowing me to be a perfect candidate for a hip preservation surgery called “Periacetabular Osteotomy”. Sound scary?

IT IS SCARY. They make a 4-8 inch incision on the front of your hip, move aside muscles and tendons, and then they cut your pelvic bone around the socket, rotate it, and screw it back into place, allowing new bone will grow in the “holes” and making it as good as new (most likely).

So after seeing 2 ortho surgeons, one finally said the term “hip dysplasia”, causing me to cry. I had googled everything that could even remotely sound like my symptoms, and when I got to hip dysplasia, I shrugged it off quickly. Turns out, it was real.

I found via Instagram a young lady my age also had DDH (developmental dysplasia of the hip – a fancy term for “acquiring it in your growing years”) and had flown up to St. Louis from Texas to get it fixed with this surgery. It was through her that I found out about Dr. Clohisy, one of the top 5 surgeons in the States that perform this surgery, and one of maybe 20 in the states that even perform the surgery with any regularity. I called him in January to get an appointment and was told that he had an 8-week waiting list for visits. So I waited.

Finally March 10 rolled around and I am so nervous. Certainly he wasn’t going to tell me I need to slice my hips in half, right? Boy was I wrong. He walked me through step-by-step the nature of the surgery and how it would help my own specific hips. I scheduled my surgery that day – June 22 is now D-Day. Over 3 months away. Sounds great.

Full disclosure: I am now on the other side of the surgery with a much more realistic outlook about the surgery and recovery process. It sucks. So definitely stay tuned.

2015

Posted on by

0

I’ve never been big on New Year’s resolutions. Setting a goal for the rest of the year? Those are so hard to keep. I’m trying something new this year, inspired by many other blogs I read. I’m trying to do something different each month. I find that short-term goals work best for me (hello ADHD!) so I don’t get so discouraged or distracted. 31 days is a much easier commitment than 365. Also, I’m only setting several small goals for the next 2 months because we all know how life changes so quickly. Who knows what my life will bring come next December? I will evaluate come March and proceed from there.

January:

  1. Less phone time and social media. I had my husband change my Facebook password and deactivate it so I can’t get on if I tried until at least January 31st. Facebook is a huge time suck and I often find myself thinking “Why would you post that? It’s so annoying” and then I remember, oh yea, I don’t need to be reading this stuff I don’t care about. I have kept my Twitter, which I don’t really use or read, and my Instagram, which I find isn’t too much of a time suck. I also want to try put my phone away from after work until I go to bed at night and spend quality one-on-one time with my husband. Hopefully he will join me in this one (hint, hint, Mangosquash!).
  2. To be less gossipy and negative about others. This is, unfortunately, going to be difficult. I find myself being negative about others when they don’t deserve it. I want to try to be more open to their thoughts and opinions, even when I don’t really care. With that, I want to stop gossiping. If I am so private with my own life and information, why do I feel like I can spread others information so freely? This will hopefully be a long-term goal, but I need to start somewhere.
  3. Drink less. Specifically no alcohol from Monday-Thursday when we are at home.
  4. Blog every two weeks. I have been very inconsistent and I’d like to improve.

February

  1. Get back to running/the gym at least twice a week. Since my surgery last March, I really have not ran or exercised consistently, and it BREAKS my heart. I’m currently still going to PT for unrelated hip and back pain issues and hope to get the go-ahead to run again soon. I do have permission to bike and elliptical, but I just haven’t. Lazy Lydia. I also should take my dog for more walks.
  2. Keep the house picked up and in decent shape at all times. We have a terrible habit of leaving clutter out because people come to our house so rarely, which results in a scramble to clean when the time comes, which also results in me getting extremely cranky. Before bed I’d like the kitchen to be dish-free and wiped down, clothes picked up, bathroom free of clutter. Why is this so hard? My house is like 950 sq ft.

2015, I have a feeling this will be our year. We’ve got lots of hopes and dreams that depend on you being awesome 🙂

“So what do you do?”

Posted on by

1

As an introverted young adult with still no idea what I want to be when I grow up and a job that I’m not particularly fond of, this question causes me more anxiety than being asked “so when will you have babies?”.

Why does it matter what I do?

I feel like this question has become a basis on which I am judged. That whatever my answer is, will provide the asker with a quick synopsis of my education, skills, and financial situation, 3 things that don’t define who I am. This quick judgment makes me feel uncomfortable and like the person asking doesn’t really want to know about ME.

I am so much more than my seemingly dead-end job.

I am an aspiring chef!

I am a dog lover and cat snuggler.

I am a wannabe half-marathoner.

I am a lazy person.

I am a former soccer, softball, tennis, and volleyball player and dutch dancer.

I am a good listener.

I am an avid reader.

I’m the best aunt to my BFF’s little Leah.

I love spending time kissing my husband.

I love spending my summers driving to Michigan as much as possible.

I’m a pretty good sister.

I enjoy drinking beer and talking for hours.

I hate spending too much time in large groups.

I was made to be a mom.

When I get asked what I do (which happens more and more frequently as I get older), I cringe before I give a quick answer of “Oh, I’m a social worker.” I hate the response I get for that: “oh you must see such sad things!” “oh you are so selfless and patient and kind” (spoiler- I’m not really. I often tell my husband I’m a princess) “Oh that must be hard” “Do you take children out of their families?” While yes, I do see sad things, and yes, it can be challenging, my job is not my passion or life and it doesn’t define who I am at all. I’ve come to just saying “I work at LFCS” and leave it open ended and vague (I love vague and hate giving personal details about anything).

I know I’m not the only person who feels this way. My friend is in a job rut right now, too, and was instructed not to tell his Grandmother for fear of her response.

WHY?

Well, 1., because Grandma is a (wonderful) crazy person and you don’t want to hear her abrasive opinions,
and 2., because to her, your job and well-being defines success. I don’t like that.

My success will come from raising my children to be kind, gentle, and God-loving creatures.

My success comes from my AWESOME marriage.

My success comes from my friendships and relationships with my family.

My success will be once I finally cross that finish line of the half marathon I so desperately want to run.

My success comes when I try a new recipe that turns out fantastic.

My success will come from providing for my family, sure, but only so I can do the things that actually make me, me.

Don’t ask me what I “do”.

Ask me about who I am.

And then help me find a new job 😉

What the f*!$ is wrong with your leg? Part 2

Posted on by

0

Day 1, Friday:

Once I got back home, everything that happened the rest of the day was a slight blur (thanks, Percy). I was in a decent amount of pain and just generally uncomfortable. My sweet in-laws brought mexican for us for dinner and I could hardly eat any. I later realized (after a few freak vomit sessions) that my antibiotic was super strong and left me extremely nauseous and light-headed. Luckily I was only on those for 3 days.

I had never felt more helpless and pathetic. I physically and mentally felt fine, I just couldn’t walk and do things I wanted to. I felt like a spoiled brat every time I asked for a glass of water or a snack or for someone to help me take off my pants before bed (sorry for the extreme romance, mangosquash, you are a lucky man). I tried walking a bit because the doctor said I should be able to, but hobbling around with 2 crutches around my tiny house proved pretty difficult. I did figure out a way to make it down to the basement (where the comfiest couch and biggest tv are) by hopping on one leg all the way down.

Iced leg

Sleep eluded me for the first few days. I was stuck in a strange in-between spot where my brain couldn’t seem to fully commit to falling into actual REM sleep. I can only compare it to the mind of someone who is experiencing extreme anxiety (of which I also suffer at times, fun stuff man); thinking so many thoughts and scenarios and ideas all at once and there doesn’t seem to be any sense or order to it. I blame Percy.

Day 2, Saturday:

Saturday was a BEAUTIFUL 70 degree day. My dad and husband went and bought us some new patio chairs, because I broke one of our directors-style chairs as soon as I sat down. Wah. My dad also went to pick up St. Louis-style BBQ for us for lunch from Bogart’s, the greatest place in the world. If you haven’t been and you’re from St. Louis, you are really missing out. We spent most of the day outside which pleased my dog to no end.

Dog

Still in a good deal of pain, and more residual pain seemed to set in. My back hurt from sitting with my leg propped up, my knee hurt from being bent all night, my foot hurt from being so swollen. I’d rate it a 7/10. This is the day when the swelling and bruising really started to set in. Also, whenever I bent over or stretched my leg really at all, I’d get some tingly nerves shooting from my knee area straight down through my toes. Later, my doctor told me that it was because they had to move my nerve out of the way during surgery.

Day 3, Sunday:

My parents flew back to Michigan after spending 4 days with us and I can’t thank them enough for being here with us. I think my poor husband would have killed me. But first, my mother washed my hair for me. What a cutie-cutie-bonding-moment, as she would call it.

mom washing hair

My BFF Samantha also drove in that night to spend the next few days with me while mangosquash went back to work. Having her here was so fantastic; I can’t remember the last time we got to spend so much quality time together. I hadn’t seen her since finding out she was pregnant several weeks before, so it was excellent to chat all things baby. I got to take her 11-week bump shot with our chalkboard. Can’t even wait to be an aunt!

baby k

My pain level was leveling off by this point; still on Percy, but down to 1 pill instead of 2 at a time. Super sore and stiff. About a 6/10 resting, 7/10 when I tried to walk around.

Day 4, Monday:

Spent the entire day outside reading magazines, eating snacks, and chatting about pregnancy and baby names. My in-laws’ wonderful best friend, Maria, came over to pay a visit and brought delicious food and beautiful flowers.

I finally got the guts to take the wrapping off my leg and inspect my stitches. Woah man, SO UGLY. Like a member of the Blue Man Group barfed all over my leg. I was pleasantly surprised with the size of my incisions, though; less than 2 inches in length each. Don’t scroll down if you have a weak stomach.

IMG_0993

IMG_0996

IMG_1024

IMG_1025

Pain the same as before; wavering at about a 6 depending on my activity level. My ankle started hurting a ton from trying to walk more. Because of the swelling and muscle tightness, my foot wasn’t able to bend to a neutral 90 degree angle. Still having lots of tingly shooting fireballs down my leg, though they are getting better.

Day 5, Day 6, Day 7:

These days kind of blend together. Samantha left, and I was left to fend for myself. I also took my first bath/shower in several days. My poor husband. I watched a lot of bad TV and crappy Netflix movies, slept in until noon, and snuggled with my precious cat.

My pain level came down to about a 4 and 5, just super sore and tender.

IMG_1034

IMG_1045

Yes. That IS a plate on my bathroom floor. I ate breakfast while I was in the bathtub. It’s fine, I was on vacation.

Day 8, Friday: One week post-surgery

My stitches came out on this day! I can’t believe they were ready to come out; my incisions didn’t look like they had healed at all. Nonetheless, out they came. I was still hobbling on two crutches at this point, sometimes using both feet, but usually just one foot.

IMG_1060

IMG_1061

My doctor said everything looked great and instructed me to start physical therapy as soon as possible to build back up my muscle strength, range of motion, and get me back to running! Happy day! He also said I can go back to work whenever I feel strong enough.

Day 9, 10, 11:

Pain still about a 4. I only left the house a few times to visit with my in-laws and go out to eat, and I was starting to get a little antsy by this point! Still on two crutches.

Day 12, Tuesday:

I started physical therapy. My PT was SUPER great. She was a younger girl a year older than me, spunky, cute, really nice. She took measurements of my range of motion. My foot could move about 10 degrees total; not very much (normal range is about 60 degrees), and I couldn’t even get it to neutral (90 degree angle to the shin). I came in on two crutches and she had me walk around the office to observe my gait. I wasn’t able to pick my foot up comfortably; it hurt too much. She stretched out my muscles as much as she could and gave me some at-home stretches and exercises to do and sent me on my way.

IMG_1148

IMG_1121

This was also the last FMLA day I was taking; I was returning to work the next day. I spent the rest of my day of vacation (Is that what it was? Sure was relaxing). I was in a fair bit of pain after working so hard at PT; maybe about a 5.

Day 13, Wednesday:

Back to work! I had a total of 8 (week)days off work, and 12 total days. This was a good amount for the surgery I had done. Had I had both legs done, I would certainly have been out at LEAST two weeks, probably more. I can’t imagine trying to walk around and be productive while hindered by two busted legs. One was annoying enough, but manageable.

While my doctor released me to go back to work, I was on “light duty” and unable to drive because my driving leg was the injured one. Oh well, I was lucky to have a chauffer (my sweet Mangosquash) for the next week!

IMG_1159

Work sucked. Flat out awful. It was difficult to get around with my two crutches, my leg wasn’t used to not being propped up and got super swollen causing more pain, I wasn’t in the work mindset (who is after almost two weeks off?), not to mention it was the end of the first quarter, and I had a stupid amount of work to do in the following two weeks. I felt awful, overwhelmed, annoyed, and generally cranky. I pathetically called Mangosquash at about 3 to pleaaaaseeee come get me. He obliged, being the wonderful man he is.

IMG_1155

My leg was so swollen and painful, I think I cried when I got home. Much icing was done and many pain pills were consumed and to bed I went.

Day 14, 15, 16, 17:

My second and third day back to work went better than the first. I weaned myself onto one crutch and was getting around easier, and was walking almost normally.

Two of my college BFFS arrived Friday night to visit for the weekend! They had never been to St. Louis before. We walked around the Arch grounds, did the Budweiser tour, and visited the City Museum. Yes, I did all those things on crutches, minus the City Museum, which was my debut to the crutch-free world! I took it easy and popped a few pain pills beforehand so I could fully enjoy it.

IMG_0123

IMG_0136

I woke up with some swelling and stiffness but nothing too bad. Maybe a 3.5 or 4/10. This was the first time I really felt like a productive member of society again.

Day 19, Tuesday:

My PT was pretty concerned with the extreme swelling I was having; she said that this much swelling wasn’t typical. She suggested a medical-grade compression sock (yep, like an old person). I called my doctor up and went in to see him that day. He said “yup!” and wrote me a script for some socks and another for a NSAID.

The socks definitely add a stylish touch to my spring outfits.

IMG_1467

On a brighter note, officially crutch-free! And I was released to resume full duty at work!

April 10, almost 5 weeks post-surgery:

Doctors appointment. Everything is healing well! He tells me I should get another month of PT, which I agree; I’m still so weak and stiff. I’m walking comfortably at this point and doing things with minimal difficulty. The socks were working extremely well; I was having minimal swelling, and my tingling was diminishing greatly.

photo (2)

April 13:

I RAN! I was slow and walked a lot and rescued a dog (seriously, a tiny shih tzu was walking around a playground alone), but I RAN! And my leg didn’t even hurt! In fact, my left leg hurt more than my right! I went almost 1.5 miles, I’d say about half was a run. My pace while running was about 15 min/mile. I’m fine with that. I cried while running. It felt so gooooood and I was so proud of myself.  I solemnly swear to never take advantage of my working body again!

IMG_1721

Today, April 21:

I ran once more last week while walking the dog. Again, it was super slow, but I’m counting the small victories here.

I got my measurements re-taken at PT last Friday. They are almost exactly the same as my left foot! My ankle measured at +2 degrees, as opposed to -10 at my first appointment. Still feeling super still at times and I have to stretch a lot. It feels like I have a slight pulled calf muscle, and I’m still having some slight shooting tingly pains if I touch the area between my incisions. In general, I am feeling good and walking normal and really forget I even had surgery most of the time.

IMG_1886

I do, however, still have a bunch of numbness around my lower scar and around the big toe area. It’s coming back slowly. I’m coming back slowly. And I’ll be better than before.

 

What the f*!$ is wrong with your leg? Part 1

Posted on by

1

Wow, what a great question. I have been asking myself that for about 6 months, since exactly September 20th. In my right leg, I have this wonderful happening called “chronic exertional compartment syndrome”. Lucky for me, it only affects 2 of 4 muscle compartments in my right leg, and none in my left. Most folks get it in both legs in all 4 compartments- YEOWCH.

CECS is a delightful syndrome that occurs most often while running/skiing/roller skating/other high-impact sports. For me, it started while I was running. I had been running since the New Year (2013) as the one resolution I actually stuck to. I was in the middle of training for a 5k, 10k, and half-marathon relay (just about 6.5 miles), and went out for a short run. Less than 5 minutes in, I got this terrible pain in my lower shin that felt like a pulled muscle. “What an odd place for a pulled muscle!” I said to myself. Then I looked down and saw that it was BULGING OUT OF MY LEG. Later I learned this is called a herniated muscle (yes, I’m basically a doctor after all my medical visits). I stopped running and the pain stopped almost immediately. Huh. I started back up, and so did the pain. What a dumb thing. I’d only run a half mile. I gave myself a week off and then tried to run again a week later while in Michigan for our anniversary. All i wanted was a beautiful 5-mile run on the lakefront! Is that so much to ask?!?!?!?!? YES. IT WAS.

Moving forward, I went to my PCP and she suggested CECS. She sent me to an orthopedic surgeon in Mercy Hospital. SURGEON?!?!?! THIS ESCALATED QUICKLY. I THOUGHT IT WAS A PULLED MUSCLE! Nah, that’d be too easy. If there’s one thing I learned in my life when it comes to my health, is that I am never lucky. The stomach flu that went around this winter? Yup. I got it twice.

Mr. Surgeon sends me for an MRI and X-rays just to rule out fun stuff like stress fractures. Again, that would have been too easy, and it wasn’t that, but he put me in a boot for 3 weeks anyway to see what happened (spoiler alert: nothing happened.). So I was told to take a month off running and then return to it slowly and see what happened.

Guess what?! The pain was still there. In January I called him and said “Yo doc, this isn’t going anywhere. Can I get that awful needle pressure test already?” and he said, “….sure… I need to find a place for you to do it first…. I’ll call ya.” He also used this opportunity to tell me that CECS is pretty uncommon, and was most prominent in young (me!) female (me!) runners (also me!). How delightful. He called me later that week when he found a place. Horray! And I could get the test done on Valentine’s Day. Excellent! Because nothing screams romance more than 4-inch long needles and forcing yourself to run until it hurts.

Getting a compartment pressure test might be on my list of top-10 things I would never wish upon my worst enemy. Maybe. It sucked, that’s for sure. FIRST- they make you wait in the waiting room for 50 minutes past your scheduled appointment (oh? that’s not part of it? just me? I digress.). THEN- they put some numbing agents in your muscles with baby needles so the big papa needles don’t hurt as much. Next, they take the “before” pressure readings. Normal pressures for un-aggravated muscle compartments are around 15-20ppi I was told. Mine were 19, 19, 20, and 21.

Finally, the fun part comes- RUNNING! What once was my favorite activity was now my worst enemy. He put me on a treadmill (which, by the way, are the worst. hate treadmills.) at an incline and told me to run until it was an 8/10 on the pain scale. Shit! Well, I was extremely out of shape by this point, having run only 2 or 3 times in 5 months. I got tired after about a mile, before I got to my 8/10 pain. That would have to do, he said.

Lucky for me, my pressure readings were high enough to be conclusive. My anterior and lateral compartments were 46 and 43 respectively! Anything over 30 they consider CECS. Wonderful (or something).

So my orthopedic surgeon calls me the following Tuesday and says “Hey Lydia! Want to come in March 7 to get your fascia sliced open?” and i said “Abso-f***ing-lutely.” at this point in writing my blog post, I have realized I haven’t even told you what chronic exertional compartment syndrome exactly is. Have I mentioned I have ADHD? 🙂

CECS is, according to the Academy of Orthopedic Surgeons, “a painful condition that occurs when pressure within the muscles builds to dangerous levels. This pressure can decrease blood flow, which prevents nourishment and oxygen from reaching nerve and muscle cells.” Basically, when I run, my muscles swell in those 2 compartments, and the fascia that covers and protects the muscle doesn’t stretch enough to let them swell like they want to. This pinches my nerves and blood vessels and stuff and causes the pain! So, to fix CECS, they go in and cut the fascia on the affected compartments from ankle to knee to allow the muscles to swell. Phew, now you know. Back to my story, how rude of you to interrupt!

March 7. Surgery day. My parents came in town to take care of me and give moral support to my wonderful husband, mangosquash. We all drive to the surgery center and go in the entrance on the second floor of the parking ramp, like they told us. i approach the desk and say “hello! I have a 10:30 appointment with Dr. Irvine?” and she said “…he doesn’t work in this office anymore.” WHAT! “excuse me? i am supposed to have surgery with him today at 10:30! i was told to come here!” “oh, the surgery center is on the 1st floor. take the elevator down.” Don’t worry, my luck isn’t THAT bad.

So I got signed in, pay the amount due (insert happy-dance for being double insured), read a Pure Michigan magazine, took some selfies with my mom, walked around the office a few times, and finally I got called back. I was given a locker for my belongings, a very stylish hospital gown, booties, a hairnet, and a pee cup to make sure I wasn’t pregnant (surprise: not pregnant). Then I climb in my hospital bed, get hooked up to an IV, kiss my family goodbye and off I am wheeled!

selfie

Selfies with Mom are the best.

 

preop

Pre-op with a thermometer on my forehead.

Surgery lasted about an hour, which was great, because my poor family had been sitting there for 3 hours already. Side note: this is a good place for me to talk about my darling husband. He is the kindest, funniest, most patient and wonderful man, and I am so beyond lucky he loves me. Luckily I’m still head over heels in love with him when I’m high; I was chatting the nurses ear off that was wheeling me to recovery nearly in tears about how good of a Dad he will be and how sweet he is and how happy I am that he always does the dishes. She called me out on it later when I was teasing him about something, saying “Hey! You be nice to him! Weren’t you just singing his praises?”.

postop

Post-op with my lovely nurse, Annie.

Once out of my groggy state, I woke up famished (hello, hadn’t eaten in like 18 hours), thirsty, and in 5/10 pain. She brought me a 7up (even though I had given it up for Lent. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned), some CheezIts, and my new best friend, Percocet. I swear, you don’t need to call NA for me, but man. Percocet. I get the appeal. I really do. Kills the pain, makes you happy, gets you through it. Unfortunately, it kept me from sleeping well. I would lay awake for HOURS in some sort of in-between state. I thought the craziest things during these times; I might have cured world hunger, mentally organized my basement, and figured out what I’m naming all my kids.

They discharged me after an hour or so of recovery with a script for Percy (the Percocet, told you he was my new BFF) and some antibiotics. My sweet mangosquash ran in to Target for me while I laid in the car and thought about my life. It’s a weird moment to think “It’s a Friday, I’m not at work, I’m so close to my work right now, what if someone sees me?” And then realize, “oh yea, I just had MY LEG SLICED OPEN, I don’t have to work for 2 weeks.” Excellent. A vacation of sorts. Take me home, Percy!

My parents were the greatest that weekend (ok and always). My mother stocked our fridge and pantry, did our laundry, cleaned our kitchen, bought us toilet paper, and washed my hair for me when I couldn’t shower. She has a true servant’s heart and I can only hope to be half as great a mother as she is. My father was a huge help also, with keeping mangosquash company and buying us some new patio chairs. We were so lucky that it was 75 degrees in early March that I hobbled outside to catch some rays (and catch them I did- I ended up with sunburn). I was so sad to see my parents leave Sunday but so ready to get on with my recovery and back to running.

Part 2 is coming soon and will detail my recovery. Sorry this is so boring, but it’s something I want to document. While going through the process of getting my surgery finalized, I read tons of CECS recovery blogs and found them extremely helpful. Hopefully this brings somebody the same comfort I received from other blogs. No! You are not alone! Yes! It sucks! But it gets better!