I am 3 weeks shy of 36 years old. I remember my early 30s…running half marathons, teaching 7 fitness classes a week plus all the dance…embracing Pilates and loving hot yoga, and generally feeling pretty amazing.
And then I was derailed. In April 2014, I caught a cold. It was a horrible cold that snowballed into a debilitating chronic cough that turned into 2 years of ER visits, inhalers, CT scans, MRIs, endoscopies, cute specialists, and finally a reflux blocker that stopped the coughing long enough to heal my lungs.
I was broken. I had lost my strength, my endurance, my self. I couldn’t keep up with my dancers when I was teaching, I couldn’t teach fitness classes, and I definitely couldn’t run. I was broken, and things hurt all the time.
September 2016 was the beginning of the end. A two-day ballet syllabus refresher reignited my absolute love of ballet, but it also slightly tore my Achilles’ tendon. The minor tear became a major problem when I instinctually ran for a pedestrian crossing light a few weeks later and my entire calf balled up in pain. 10 weeks of physio followed, learning to balance without pain and accepting the slow progression of healing. It was humbling: this was the first major injury that I couldn’t brush off. It affected my job. I couldn’t teach dance properly for the first time in my career.
3 months later, I was healed, but I was busy. So. Busy. The mini goal of learning to run again at the end of my physio was swept away as I started my second full-time semester at university. Oh that’s right – in all of this, I’d gone back to school. Sitting for 2 to 3 hours a day, 5 days a week, plus the 45-minute commute each way did not make for a very active lifestyle. Add that to the ambivalence of jumping or creating any kind of possible Achilles’-angering movement, and I was as close to sedentary as I’d been in my life.
I kept promising myself that summer was coming and that things would be better. Life would calm down, and I would take care of me. Then May rolled around and I started a full-time office job. By the start of my third week, my lower back ached from sitting. I tried to stretch and walk it off, but it keeping aching. By the end of the week, I was in pain. Over the course of the weekend, I went from aching to sleeping. Sleep was the only thing that didn’t hurt…unless I moved the wrong way. Then I hurt. I was downing extra-strength Advil and Tylenol every four hours like candy. I contemplated heading to the emergency room, but Saturday evening brought me a TENS machine that numbed the pain as long as it was permanently attached to my back. It was my only relief.
Tuesday morning, I was able to head in for physio. The IMS needle therapy was a godsend. I was sore, but the pain was decreasing. I could sit and stand for a little bit longer, and I had a bit of mobility. I taught ballet on Tuesday night, and felt like a whole new person on Wednesday morning! I was all better! I joyfully opened my dance studio that afternoon, ready to jump and twirl with my preschool class…until the first jump. I knew immediately that I was definitely NOT healed. It hurt. It hurt a lot. I kept going…I didn’t’ have an assistant on hand to help. I modified what I could, and after 90 minutes I remembered the TENS machine stowed in my bag. I reattached the sticky pads to my back and made it through the last 60 minutes of ballet with my exam kids.
The pain didn’t stop. It got worse as the night wore on. I yelped uncontrollably when I moved in bed. The TENS machine was discarded on the kitchen table. It had lost its magic touch with this pain. I tried to remember if I’d ever felt pain like this before. My back felt like it was going to shatter, and every movement was agony. I managed to make it through the night, and as soon as my girls left for school, I painfully drove myself to the ER.
I had my reservations about taking up space in the ER. First, the waiting room was bound to add to my pain. Sitting was the worst, and I couldn’t imagine the hours sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chairs. Second, was this emergent? It wasn’t life-threatening…I could wait to see if my doctor could fit me in later in the day. But then I would also be shuffled from office to x-rays to pharmacy to…a lot of movement I wasn’t prepared for.
As it turns out, the walk from the parking lot to the triage desk was excruciating. The tears rolled down my cheeks as I sat at the nurse’s desk and despite the full waiting room, they ushered me into an examining room within 15 minutes of my arrival. I was examined and drugged within 45 minutes, and no major red flags were found. Apparently sudden-onset back pain with no trauma IS emergent, and both the resident and attending doctors said it was a good call to come to the ER. They sent me home with a handful of Percocet and told me to continue with physio. I also promised to teach my Thursday night dance class safely from a chair. I was a 35-year old participant in Sit and Be Fit…
Friday’s physio appointment was blissful. I was back to less-than-square one, but the needles did their magic. The Percocet worked its magic. The sleep did its magic. Today I am down to Tylenol 1s, and the pain is manageable. It was an 8.5/10 in the emergency room, and a 4/10 before physio. This morning, I would say it was only a 1 or 2. Still sore and uncomfortable, but not painful. As the day has gone on, it’s gone up to a 3 or 4 again, but with fewer painkillers.
So where does that leave me now?
Shaken, and realizing that this cannot continue. I have to get my body back. I have to be in control of this body as much as possible. I cannot have another 3 months of this nonsense, let alone another 3 years! And I have to do it smartly. I cannot go all-in like I used to. I have to take the baby steps necessary, and take them consistently each day. I am now in the “recovery” stage. I am not healthy or fit. I am injured…I need to get back to healthy first, and then fit. And then back to being amazing.
I don’t know how I let this happen. When I look back, it feels like one day I was unstoppable and the next day I was stopped. And then stopped again. And then beat down, injured, and lacking faith in my ability to ever DO anything again. I miss my strength and I miss my power. I miss what made me ME. Hopefully this time next year, I will be enjoying a pain-free evening run like I used to.
Hopefully, I will be me again.
MagzD Life 