October 2006
Saturday October 1, 2006
I Wanted to Eat That
The greater my determination to get my life back, the more chances I take. Those chances may seem minimal to someone whose body is fully functional; but to me, just struggling through the work week can be a serious challenge. My husband made me a drink in the evening, which I proceeded to guzzle on a nearly empty stomach. Okay, this is not the wisest chance I have ever taken. Being less active than usual, I have lost much of my voracious appetite. Under normal circumstances, I exercise rigorously and, consequentially, become very hungry. Without my typical caloric out-go, my appetite has diminished, which is not necessarily a bad thing. If I continued to eat like an athlete and do little more than therapy exercises, I would pack on weight as though preparing for hibernation. I have lost weight. Some of it has been fat, some of it muscle.
But back to the drink and taking chances. I have been working on stairs lately, trying to walk up one foot over the other. However, going down is much more difficult because my injured ankle does not bend as much as it should. With a relaxing drink in my belly, I temporarily forgot about my limitations and began to take the stairs into our sunken living room like an expert. By the way, I carried a delicious, mouth-watering bowl of Thai take-out food in my hand. In spite of my willingness to attack the steps, my damaged foot refused to cooperate, slipped out from under me and sent me tumbling. For the third time, that set of stairs got the better of me.
There I was, collapsed on the floor at the foot of three steps. I heard my husband calling my name, panic rising in his voice. Yes, I was conscious. I knew that. Now I just had to let him know. Maybe I was in mild shock, maybe I was just drunk. “Yeah, I’m awake,” I grumped, completely embarrassed. I pushed myself up and looked around. Food was splattered all over the floor and down my arm. My husband bent over to retrieve my bowl.
After a moment of concern over not wearing my ankle brace, my mind skipped ahead to the more important concern. “Goddamnit, I wanted to eat that.”
My husband looked at me blankly then showed me the bowl. Somehow, I managed to save half of my dinner. “You can still have this,” he consoled.
“But I want to eat the stuff on the carpet too.”
With that, we both burst out laughing hysterically.
Since then, I have been more careful about the stairs and drinking on an empty stomach. And I did eat the food that fell on the floor. I admit it. I obeyed the five-minute rule. Or is that five seconds? Doesn’t matter. It still tasted good.
Sunday October 15, 2006
On Ice
The moment finally came when I stepped on the ice again. My husband took me to a public session and watched me put on my skates. These skates had not been touched since the EMT unlaced them and extracted my damaged foot from their leathery grip. I pulled the boots out of their absorbent terry cloth cases. They looked strangely familiar, but I did not know if I could even stand on them, never mind skate. Actually, I had more confidence in my ability to skate than to walk on the blades to the ice pad. Maybe I could not even fit my enlarged ankle into the boot. All of these concerns aside, I felt excited, anxious to get back on the ice, and worried at the same time.
I toddled cautiously on the rubber mats to the doorway to the ice surface and stepped out. I stood there for a moment, my blades obeying the laws of physics and melting their way into the frozen water. I only held the barrier for a moment before taking a couple of childish marching steps. My conservative plan for my first day back included only two-foot skating: gliding, slaloms, swizzles. I would be happy to simply be able to propel myself around the rink. After months of inactivity followed by severely curtailed exercise, my muscles had diminished to virtual nonexistence. My biggest physical therapy challenge involves balancing on my injured foot, a skill essential for ice skating.
While my husband thought I did well for a first time back, I was discouraged. I experienced some serious discomfort and adjusted my laces several times during my brief half-hour return. Yes, I accomplished the two-foot skills I planned, but nothing else. I could not even stroke. My injured foot had not regained sufficient strength to balance and carry my body weight. Even though I tried to push onto the right blade, I could not relinquish the security of my strong left foot on the ice. A friend encouraged me that my skills will return, since I am an athlete. That made me feel better, although I skated like a rank beginner. This exchange made me think about the difficulties faced by beginning skaters. They probably lack muscle development. Even if a beginner is already athletic, s/he may not possess the specialized musculature required to balance on a metal blade on a slippery surface. Most beginning skaters also lack balance and flexibility since most adult sporting activities do not require these traits to nearly the same extent as ice skating. Based on these observations, beginning adult skaters would probably benefit from crosstraining that involves development of leg muscles, flexibility and balance. Even at the lowest levels of skating, these skills are absolutely necessary.
I invested in a home gym and have been working out on it regularly. I feel a hint of muscle reforming in my right thigh. I practice my therapy exercises daily building lateral strength that contributes to balance and control. Hopefully these efforts will translate into improved skating.
Week of October 15, 2006
Physical Therapy Drop-Out
Alright, I know that doesn’t sound good. And, yes, I did stop going to physical therapy. This was my last week. Firstly, my prescription ran out, though the orthopedist would have gladly faxed a new one to the therapy office. However, I am working fulltime, going to therapy twice a week, staying after work for hugely pointless meetings, and trying to have a personal life. All of the above adds up to exhaustion. Of course, my health is important, and if I thought for a minute that the physical therapy appointments were irreplaceable, I would continue to go. Most of the time I am there, I exercise alone. The therapist comes in to stretch my foot for about ten minutes. Then an assistant wraps my injured joint with an ice pack. I rest for ten minutes and drive home. I have learned all of the exercises and do them at home daily. I see no reason to clutter my schedule with more appointments for things I can do at leisure in my own living room.
The therapist noted that I have not regained full range of motion in my ankle, as evidenced by a slight limp and measurements he took of my toe point and flex with a protractor. I believe this will gradually return to normal with time and use. I have begun to skate again, and that is probably the best strengthening exercise I can do. At therapy, I balance on a vinyl pillow on my bad leg. This is surprisingly difficult. However, I got better at it quickly and could hold for a full two minutes, the maximum they require. Eventually, I would have performed the same feat on a small trampoline while an assistant threw a ball to me. No doubt, this seal act would improve my skating, but skating would also improve the seal act. Therefore, I chose to make room in my life for ice time.
With so many obligations, I feel exhausted on the weekend, which is the only realistic skating time available to me right now. After work freestyles just don’t make sense. I am not ready for that. So, I come home early on those two weekdays previously allocated to therapy and relax. I almost feel as though I am on vacation.
Sunday October 29, 2006
The Fat Lady
Fortunately the above title does not refer to me. Unfortunately, a title such as the “The Muscular, Athletic Lady” would not apply to me these days either. There really is a “fat lady” though. I came upon her at a public session that is also used for group lessons. I stepped onto the ice and made my way carefully to the wall where I proceeded around the rink to an area that was free of lessons. Since this was only my second time on the ice since my injury, I skated pretty slowly. The fat lady was teaching a group lesson and shouted at me to get to the wall. She apparently thought I was some clumsy beginner who could at a moment’s notice topple in front of one of the little children and cause an accident. Just looking at me, she had no reason to believe otherwise. However, if I were in good health, I would be teaching lessons during this particular session. I have gotten to know the skating director and he has permitted me free rehab time on this session so I will be ready to teach as the season gets busier. I gratefully accepted.
Apparently the skating director, who I shall call “Kurt”*** in honor of a third grade school chum, did not tell her about me, and why should he? She was quite rude to me, treated me like a scum-of-the-earth adult beginner who is not taking lessons from her. I tried to tell her I am doing my best, but am recovering from a serious injury and cannot skate any faster to get to the other end of the rink. She nodded her chubby head and said she understood. Bullshit, she understood. If she understood she would not have barked at me across the rink. She would not have continued to bark at me and ask one of the teenage helpers who I am so she could yell at me again by name.
I asked a friend who is the rude fat broad. She is apparently a well-credentialed coach with an attitude problem. Gee, it’s going to be fun working with her in a month or so. My friend was surprised by how she treated me, but nothing surprises me anymore. This fall I started a new job on crutches. Most people were warm and supportive. Others were harsh and unaccommodating. My supervisor did not even want to issue me a key to the elevator, and I work on the second floor. I had to get a key from a kind custodian who saw my condition and felt sorry for me. I have learned to deal with people who have blunt personalities. I do not necessarily like it, but I cannot take it personally either.
In spite of the fat lady, who probably is too out of shape to skate worth her hourly fee anymore, I made progress. I stroked, gently balancing on my bad foot for longer and longer periods of time, a revelation I attribute to workouts on my home gym. Building up for crossovers, I practiced scooter pumps (a roller skating term) around the back hockey circles. Scooter pumps are simply one-foot swizzles that propel the skater in a curve rather than straight ahead. I did them with speed and power but am not ready for crossovers. Also in hopes of doing a crossover soon, I experimented with forward outside edges and managed to hold an edge on my injured foot. This progress seems minimal, but for me it is very encouraging. I am starting from square one as a former child skater starts. My body knows how to skate and will begin skating as it did before as soon as my musculature redevelops.
*** Not his real name.
I was so discouraged after my first skate, that I skipped a week. When I came back, Kurt wondered what had happened. I told him I just could not bring myself to skate that weekend. Actually, I had to bribe myself to go this time too. Kurt has suffered a serious arm injury and said he understood. He has been very kind and patient. I look forward to working for him.
 |
 |
 |
The content of this site is copyright by K. J. N., 1999 - 2006