Take A Swim

Today I realized that my life would be so much more free if I could do it all underwater.

I am up to sitting in my chair for 2 hours now, and figured that it was as good of a time as any to get back in the pool. I haven't been for 6 months. I have never gone this long without swimming in my life, and that is the truth.

There was a lot of anxiety before getting in: Was my butt going to hold in tact while sitting on the edge of the pool (with a cushion)? Did I remember how to freestyle and backstroke? Was I going to be able to get back into my chair post-workout? Could I remember how to socialize with the rest of the world?

The moment my body touched the water, tears began to well up in my goggles. It had been so long since I had been here. I have been through so much. With each stroke I remembered all of the little events that led up to this. All of the good, all of the not-so-good. Stroke. Breathe. Stroke. Breathe.

Swimming is only one of a billion things that will forever remind me of how beautiful life can be. I actually hope that I cry a little bit every time I take a swim.

My New Job

You take one part wellness, two parts boredom, and a dash of financial struggle... and what do you get? An online writing gig, that's what.

If you haven't heard of Examiner.com it is an online source for news and local events. Since becoming an examiner, I have read various articles from other examiners ranging from the best bike rides in Boulder to cooking with sweet potatoes to the latest Rockies news.

As for me, I have worked hard in the last few days to become known as the Denver Adapted Recreation Examiner. I write articles on adaptive recreation events, organizations, tips, and I don't know what else here in town. I am pretty excited to be able to put all of my new energy and effort into something that can, hopefully, be useful to the puplic (and make a buck or two in the process!)

Remembering To Live

Who Would Have Thought?

I'll be home sometime this week...

For What It's Worth

It is not in my nature to, A) worry about money and B) change my lifestyle because of it. But people can change, right?!

Since March I have been on a medical leave from school and haven't been able to go back. The one life vest in this sea of adulthood came from my long-term disability policy at school. They have been supplementing me with 60% my pay. I am a fool for thinking this was a lot of money! I am blessed, however, to be getting any sort of payment at all while I am away from my kiddos. It is just poor, poor timing. Don't all of those people involved with health insurance realize that being sick so long equates to not being able to work which also equates to not having any money? But yet they still send me bills and reminders of my current impoverished state. No fair!

While in the hospital, I have had a lot of time to plan for my decreased income... as best as I know how. I have written some travel articles and attempted to have them published, I have written two pieces for this woman's upcoming book of memoirs (free of charge but incredibly rewarding), and I have even attempted poetry at the greeting card level. I spend every morning checking for freelance writing and blogging gigs, and every afternoon making bracelets and necklaces for a garage sale in the works. I think I am figuring it out.

I have applied for financial assistance with getting a new wheelchair, from several sources. My insurance will cover up to $2000 for a new wheelchair... which is helpful if I could get away with one of those old clunkers that the hospitals and grocery stores use. Hopefully, one or two of these sources will find me as pathetic as I feel and just give me a buck or two.

A local wheelchair supply company came out to my hospital room yesterday to help start the order for my new set of wheels. That meant that I was able to actually sit in my chair... for 5 minutes... twice! It was the first time I have been in my chair since my surgery at the end of July. It felt good, but incredibly awkward. I realized, immediately, that my oh-so-cool core strength that I have become so proud of is virtually non-existent at this point. I suppose it gives me something new to work on during the day, alongside my job postings and jewelry-making.

Here's a secret though: it's kind of fun to wear so many hats. This whole experience has left me no choice but to be out of the box a bit. It may be cold at times and feel a bit strange, but I feel that it is a good place for me to play for awhile.

Let There Be Light

Since my surgery, I have had a bouquet of remarks from all kinds of medical staff about my attitude. I hear on almost a daily basis praise of inspiration and grace... but do I really deserve that?

Sure, I know I am a good patient. I never complain when my toothbrush doesn't get rinsed out and sits in my spit-container all night. I never complain when my meal is smothered in gravy, leaving barely a gasp left from the meat underneath. I never complain about not being able to get out of my bed. I never complain about my lotion being left just a centimeter out of my reach. BUT all of this, by no means, equates to such praise of character.

I have been intentionally convincing myself as the days shorten that there must be some very unwilling souls in this place. It must be hard to work with so many non-compliant patients. However, it wasn't until just a second ago that I realized that it wasn't truly the case. In chatting it up with my day-nurse, as I do quite frequently, I learned that these patients were no different than me, physically. Most were "flap" patients on bed rest at different stages of their protocol. Most had family and friends that came to visit with fists full of homemade goodies and fresh flowers. But there was a difference. My nurse pointed out to me something so obvious, something that I have known all along. Something that I never knew to be such a gift. It is the outlook that I create for myself and the actions that I make because of it all.

Starting to understand a little bit of what is complimented towards me, I feel a bit shy, like the first time a boy ever told me I was pretty. That is the kind of feeling I have about it... boy, I am strange. I now surrender to the notion that I do see the light in things more frequently and at a greater wavelength than others, but does that truly make me inspirational? I think that it makes me in tuned and close to seeing the natural way that life makes present... and I suppose I AM proud of that. There, I admitted it.

I am proud of myself.
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The countdown begins... less than 3 weeks to go and only a few more days of flat bed rest.
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Let there be light.

No BUTTS About It

My surgery went surprisingly well. After everything that I've been struggling with since March, I was sort of in the habit of expecting the worse. However, after only a 2 hour surgery, nearly 30 staples, and lots of care I was now on the road to recovery.

There was far less infection than the doc thought. This was good because it meant that he didn't have to use my hamstring, I had enough butt tissue for him to just swing it over like a party favor and staple the whole thing closed. There are 2 layers involved: muscle and skin. Both layers contain a lot of internal stitches to keep the whole masterpiece in tact.

The biggest shock of the whole event was that the surgeon found a chunk of ischial bone "floating" around my butt cheek. He successfully removed the bone before he finished me up with 2 drains coming out the side to help with healing and many, many staples. This chunk of bone, recorded to be about the size of a quarter, could have very well been the culprit all along.

How did I not realize that I broke my pelvic bone off?? I know I don't really feel that area, but one could suspect that I would, at the very least, recognize a big bump or fall to cause it. I guess not.

Now, being about a week and a half post-surgery, things are going well. My antibiotics have been discontinued and my PICC line IV was taken out on Thursday. It feels great to have both arms back. I didn't quite realize how inaccessible that PICC made my arm, and I didn't quite realize what a big scar would be left in its place.

It's amazing to think of how much things change in a year. If you don't believe me, check my blog post from a year ago!