Thanks to massive pain killers and nerve blocks, I don’t really remember most of it. I remember waking up to graham crackers and ginger ale and the nurse directing me to eat the crackers. I just wanted to fall back asleep. My leg was numb, but I could feel the bulky weight of my new reality. Maybe if I could go back to sleep, I could magically awaken to a fully rehabbed and strong ACL? Not the case. That was too much to think about. As the anesthesia slowly wore off, my surgeon came in the room. I felt like I needed to ask him so much, but was first concerned with how I was going to get into my car and leave the hospital; I couldn’t bare to think of life beyond that. Then he said,”Well, the worst part is over. It all gets better from here.”

He was and is right. Once you make the surgical decision to reconstruct your knee, every day from that point on gets better and the only thing you have to do is progress. I know, this sounds contrary to what most of the rest of this blog says. Rehab is not easy, but the great thing is that you have the opportunity each day to “rebuild” your knee and the rest of your body. You become more conscious of movements, body mechanics and proper form. You never take a moment you can move for granted again. Most people will never see life–or their bodies–from that angle. So complain as we do, the whole ACL experience makes us better athletes –and people in the end. Lucky us

I saw an orthropeadic surgeon a few weeks ago, and she told me I shouldn’t ski. What?! You mean to tell me that all my rehab and all my PT over the past months and all those times I unwillingly drug myself into the gym when I just wanted to collapse wasn’t good enough?!?!? Are you telling me that my knee is STILL in need attention and that I’m STILL not back to normal?! Ugh! FML!

Talk about disappointment in the midst of an already brutal, and sometimes seemingly elementary rehab process. Hearing that news sucked. But it wasn’t as bad as I thought, seeing as how I already heard that similar news about a year ago when I first tore my knee. If my knee isn’t getting stronger, at least my skin is getting tougher.

My first thought was, “What did I do wrong?” Then the guilt started creeping out. I should have gone to the gym more. I should have scheduled more PT sessions. I shoulda, coulda, woulda… This whole ordeal has taken enough of my time, stress and frustration. I had to give myself a break. After all, I have a life, and so do you. We can’t all make one singular ligament the sole focus of our crazy busy lives. We don’t all make a living playing professional sports, so sometimes the incentive to work the knee every day is non existent and just a hassle–at least it can be for me, your average former high-school athlete who wants to keep sports a part of her life for the rest of her life.

Before my doctor came to her conclusion about ruining my ski trip, she made me do the one-legged jump test. (You probably shouldn’t try this until you are ready to get back to sports.)

Stand with about 3-4 feet of clear space in front of you (hard surfaces work great)

Start with your non-surgery leg (I’m doing my best not to say “good/bad knee”)

Jump forward as far as you can. Stick the landing. Repeat with your surgically enhanced leg. It’s not that easy, huh? I didn’t do so hot. I didn’t jump very far and my landing was not stuck–I took an extra step like a nervous gymnast. The good thing was I had the confidence to attempt it–I did it without thinking twice. Just goes to show you how powerful confidence and attitude can be during rehab. That’s honestly what got me through this bit o’ bad news and allowed me to reset some goals and reevaluate my overall process and program. Now, instead of attempting the bunny hills next weekend like I would have, I plan on skiing in March at the level that I left off on; my therapist said she could even get me trained for jumping. We’ll see about that. I’m sure I’ll slowly immerse myself back onto the mountain, but this time I’ll certainly be stronger than expected. No use half-assing it. I’ve waited so long so, so hopefully I’ll be ready to conquer the mountain, as opposed to just bunny-hillin’ it.

Slow and steady wins the race. I imagine I will be as just like this girl, Corkthedork33, on her 1st post-op run:

On another positive note, I came across a good quote from Volklgirl on TheSkiDiva.com:

“A good day is any day you finish with the same number of bones you started with, and all the ligaments attached.”

Team Idiots Like Us

In that case, today, like most days, was a banner day. Take time to enjoy the little victories post-op–one wobbly gait at a time.

Prior to now, every time I would get up, I would feel like my leg was “stuck” and I would have to walk it out before it would straight. Walking is fine, it’s been that way for a long time, but removing the “stuck leg” step in the process is a small step for my day, but a big step towards recovery.

Here’s a little motivation to get you through the week. This video is from slimthugga34′s youtubechannel

Overall things have been going well. I think my biggest obstacle now is life getting in my way. It’s hard to stick to a 2/day PT schedule when you work long hours, socialize and overall are feeling a little bit more back to normal. Not that normal, though. I still try to make it to PT twice a week, but find myself cancelling a lot of those appointments due to the aforementioned commitments of “life.” Some of it I can control, while others I can’t.

Right now I feel like I’m in a weird holding period of “feeling fine to go about the normal day” but “not up to par with normal physical activities.” I can walk to work just fine, substitute the stairs for the elevator with no problem, but I’m just not back to my old physical regime–soccer two nights a week, the gym every other night, run 3 miles, then play various other sports throughout the week. I’ll get there. I just have to reevaluate the importance of pushing myself to go beyond getting through the normal day and getting back into normal activities. Besides, if I want to be skiing by the end of January, I think I have my work cut of for me.

If it helps any, at least it did for me, go back and look through the pictures of your progress. Maybe you have pictures after surgery, your scar progression or any pictures of you post-op. Now, think about where you are today–how you feel, how your strength is and your mobility. Finally, take your hand and give yourself a big ol’ pat on the back. Congrats, champ! You’re that much closer to your normal life.

I think about the bandages, the CPM machine, the pain killers that made me sick, the crutches, that damn brace in the middle of summer and my humility–none of those things are present in my life anymore. I hope you continue to shed layers of bad ACL experiences every day. 

After Surgery–ACL Scar                                                          

Photo from Gazette Online

As I braved the cold weather with the help of Hawkeye Vodka and watched the game from 30 rows up on the 50-yard line, never once did I  notice any player go down hard enough to stop the clock and cause a concern. Then again, when I tore my ACL I was able to get back up and I really didn’t know that I tore any ligaments. At this point, I can’t confirm when he tore it and if he played on it, but it’s certain that he won’t return to the field until next year.

It’s a sad loss, considering he was, according to Adam Rittenburg’s article on espn.com, ”Iowa’s top return man on both punts and kickoffs, averaging 20.1 yards on kickoff returns and 5.1 yards on punt returns. He also has seven receptions and five rushes this season.”

I can’t stress it enough that these things can happen to anyone–even the fittest, NFL prospects. But of course, there’s always hope. So many famous athletes have bounced back to their same level of play, just look at Tiger Woods. (I’ll blog about him later on this week.) The important thing to keep in mind when a highly competitive and potentially lucrative athlete tears their ACL is to not come back too soon. Read: Jerry Rice. If you are unfamiliar with Rice, he is a Hall of Fame football player who returned to the field approx. 3 months after ACL surgery. His first post-op game, he broke his kneecap.

So Chaney, please take your time getting back to the game As much as it sucks to sit on the sidelines, it will be worth it to get reconstructed back to new. Enjoy being a spectator for once, especially in Iowa City–I know I did.

I wonder what kind of graft he’ll go for? (I’m always curious, especially with high-perfoming humans.)

While I was there, I could easily sit on an Air Zealand flight  for 12+ hours without complaining (just get up and walkabout a lot), hike through trails, climb on smaller mountains, climb into caves, do a TON of stairs, trampoline, swim and, of course, wine taste. So my trip wasn’t the adventure-filled one that most imagine, but that just leaves room to come back.

When I underwent my surgery, I had New Zealand in the back of my mind as my pure motivator to get through it all. When I finally got there and ventured through the North and South Islands, I found the active people and enticing activities inspiring me to keep at my PT so one day I could possibly return and go skiing, surfing, bungee jumping, skydiving and many other adventurous Kiwi hobbies. Although I’m reaching more positive points in my therapy, I know I still have more to do and a few more mountains to move. But what’s the fun of life if we aren’t constantly trying to better ourselves?

I hope your knee is getting better every day.

Your recovery is entirely up to you. Somedays you can’t crawl out of bed–and somedays you don’t want to. Sometimes you skip excercises and stop after a few squats. And somedays you really feel hopeless, but it gets better. Your knee finally starts bending, your gait starts looking normal and people stop telling you they feel sorry for you. Keep your mind strong, your excercise schedule strict, and before you know it, your knee won’t even bother you. I’m three months, two weeks post-op and can go through the normal day just fine. No running or contact sports yet, but that’s just another goal to reach for. My first goal was getting back to normal life, and that officially starts today.

I wish the same for you–and in an even speedy manner. If you have stories of what, or who, got you through rehab, please share them! We can learn from each other and grow stronger for it! Brighter days are certainly ahead.

“Make no little plans…” Daniel Burnham, Chicago architect. (1864-1912)

1. Think about your passions/hobbies pre-ACL surgery.

2. Make a plans to return to one thing a few months out, when you are mostly recovered.

3. Start an envelope/savings jar and start stashing away the money you would be spending at restaurants, bars, clubs, sports or traveling. Since you are confined to the couch and a brace, think of it as a nice savings plan for your big ”welcome back to civilation” celebration.

For me, I love to travel and play sports. So much so, that I tore my ACL five days before my ski trip to Whistler. (Ouch!) Since my tear and surgery, I haven’t been able to travel or play sports. But, no worries, mate. My ACL plan I made to help my mentally get through this process was to plan a trip to New Zealand. I get my travel fix and my adventure sports fix in whatever level I choose to participate, even if it is just watching an All Blacks game or my friends zorbing down hills. After this rehab process, I’ll certainly need some new adventures in my life–we all will. Sorry I encourage you to make plans. Back to my opening quote,  “Make no little plans. They have no magic to stir men’s blood and probably themselves will not be realized. Make big plans; aim high in hope and work…”

Pic from breakaway.co.nz I found this wonderful photgrapher, Kenny Muir, on Flikr. Maybe some of his travel photography can inspire you to make no little plans when your ACL is back and kicking. 

The rehab thing is definetly physical, but we all know it’s so much of mind game, too. As if being couped up on your couch for weeks isn’t enough, good luck trying to retrain your leg how to bend and walk again. Forget about that for now, go make your plans. I’ll be leaving for New Zealand in three weeks, almost three months after my surgery. I’m sure it’s worth the wait, that’s why you gotta plan big.

So here’s how two different sugeries and two different graphs are doing at two different points in their recoveries:

Cadaver Graft, 6 weeks out…Kate, my friend, walked into the bar like it was nothing. No crutches, no brace. Not even a gimp. If you didn’t know she had surgery, you couldn’t tell anything. Prior to her surgery, Kate enjoyed an active lifestyle of hiking, biking and skiing. (She tore her ACL skiing in Tahoe.) Now, she isn’t quite running just yet, but she uses the excercise bike and is building her strenght back up. She will be back on the slopes in no time for the season. She took off work for three weeks.

Me…still not running, but moving around just fine. I don’t even think about me knee anymore. I can sit cross-legged again, do light yoga and kneel on my knees. The scar hasn’t gone clear yet, but it is certainly starting to fade into oblivion. It will be gone in no time. I, too, plan to hit the slopes this season–that’s my current goal. Perhaps Kate and I will do an ACL ski trip, and this time she will conquer Tahoe, no fear at all. Details to come….

Any other ACL skiers out there? Perhaps we can all plan a ski trip together–a celebration of progress, if you will. 

Pic from tahoesbest.com