Love is Kind, Love is Patient, Love is Getting Me an Ice Pack ASAP

I've always wanted to sled but I never imagined my first time would be strapped to a wooden gurney going down the slopes and into the ER.

Tearing your ACL once is bad news bears. Embarrassing, even, if you are like me and tore it whilst performing a dicey little maneuver called the jumping jack. Tearing it twice, though, guys? It's hard to describe how much it sucks. Trying to put it into words just brings me back to the feeling of helplessness and dread I felt, snow soaking into my clothes and tears starting to freeze on my face, the white hot pain and clarity - this was no "oops I did it again" but rather a "god DAMN it I definitely tore that shit again." I've always wanted to sled but I never imagined my first time would be strapped to a wooden gurney going down the slopes and into the ER.

3 weeks post-op, however, I can walk without crutches! And I finally have the wherewithal to step back and try to make out a silver lining or some kind of lesson out of this silly, stupid accident. So here goes.

1. Your mom really loves you. The weekend before surgery, I hobbled to my favorite bookstore to get her a card. I wanted to give her a tangible, albeit small token of my appreciation for dropping everything TWICE - once when I tore it, and now again for my surgery, six weeks later - to be there for me. I ended up getting one that says "some things in life you just need your mom for" and it's true. I tend to go for the funny-cute cards (my recent favorite is a little illustrated penguin holding a giant Chapstick - 'You're the balm!' I mean HOW can you resist paying $7 for that.) but this one was too heart-achingly true. My mom is my hero, and she is thoughtful on another level. She bought me things I didn't know I needed, like an ankle pillow to prop up my foot to ease the swelling and an airtight shower leg cap to shield my incisions in the shower. She took out all the things I would need in the bathroom out of drawers and cabinets and put them within easy reach on the countertops - same with the kitchen - so I wouldn't have to clumsily teeter on my crutches to reach for something. Anything I mentioned to her that I liked, she would get three flavors of (looking at you, Emmy's Organic Cookies). Isn't she the best? It brings me to tears just thinking about it - I think there's something lovely and humbling to the admission that the older and more "grown up" you get, the more you need your mommy.

2. Certain people in your life are going to step up. Let them. Take my boyfriend - I'm a big fan of the guy. Everyone is. He is smart in an unpretentious way, easygoing, witty, deliberate with his words in a way that everyone pays attention when he speaks. Oh, and he is also s'cute. But what people may not see or realize is how incredibly supportive he has been over the last two months. While I obviously am not saying that this wouldn't have happened without my injury - I think needing (not wanting) his help, and having to really count on him made him realize that he needed to be my partner, for real. And he has been tremendous. When we're together he'll bring me my ice packs and prop up my leg, walk as painstakingly slow as I do, and even sit on the floor and perform the mind-numbing exercises (e.g. flexing your quad for 5 seconds 30 times) by my side. He brings me Tate's (yum) and flowers (also yum), leaves me long voicemails when he is on the road, and washes the dishes and lets me have 80% of the couch without even so much as a hint of annoyance.

Other people too - those who make it a point to text me about my surgery, who send me candles and cards from afar, and bring by Jeni's and cookies and cupcakes and chocolate chip banana bread (writing this out, it is honestly WEIRD that I have not gained 50 pounds from this ordeal). It's the lovely people in your orbit who you don't get to see enough that are the most delightful and surprising. Thank you thank you thank you. It's gone a long way in making me feel more loved and less like a burden.

3. We are super used to measuring our life in productivity - stop it. I am so guilty of this, and it hurts. Often I'll lie in bed on a bad day and berate myself for how little I have accomplished, how few steps I've walked, how poorly I've eaten, etc. Take that and multiply it by 10 when you literally cannot move. At first, I was working remotely full-time while starting rehab and weaning myself off the hard drugs. I can tell you definitively, that is not the move. If you ever have to get surgery or undergo any kind of strenuous ordeal (physical or mental), I highly encourage you to take a leave of absence and find out what steps you need to take before surgery. I eventually ended up taking it, but it was only after I had really suffered a hit to my self-confidence and set myself back on the road to recovery by trying to do too much. There are appropriate settings for using productivity as a yardstick for a good day. And there's a time and a place when you have to take a wider lens. In those early days, I had to re-calibrate and celebrate the (really) small victories. Taking a shower independently was a victory. Not having to use my other leg to lift my surgery leg when getting into a car was a victory. Damn it, being able to SEE my kneecap was a victory. My hope for you is this: even if you are fully able-bodied at the moment and doing your thing, PLEASE know that 1) there's more to you than just being a productive body in motion; and 2) there's a wider definition to productivity than just getting shit done.

4. Progress is a step-wise function. This is a related point to my previous one on productivity. There were days in my recovery where I felt like I was making great progress - I could push myself a little further here, I could last a little longer there. And then the next day would come and I found myself two steps back. What happened? Aren't you supposed to keep getting better? On those days, even things I'd thought I'd mastered a week ago seemed totally unattainable. The conclusion I have come to is that you ARE constantly making progress. You just may not see it. You just may not feel like it. And in order to continue making that progress, however visible or invisible it may be, however stuck on a plateau you feel, you have to convince yourself that you're moving forward. How wonderful it would be, to be like a linear graph - arrow shooting up and to the right. But life don't be like that all the times. So let's be patient, and let's be graceful, and let's definitely cry into our pillows sometimes, but let's not give up.


Have you ever hurt yourself real bad? How did you stay motivated?

What were some of your tips and tricks for staying motivated and patient with yourself during the recovery process? For those of you who have hurt yourself multiple times (I am so sorry) how have you managed another setback? For those of you caring for people who are hurt or healing, how do you make sure to practice self-care for yourself?