Have A Nice Trip

This evening, I got one of those dreaded calls from my dad; my mom had been taken to the hospital after tripping and falling on her face. The bad news: she had to have a broken tooth fixed (and she just had dental surgery literally about three days ago). She also has a hairline fracture on her knee and will need to wear a brace. The good news: she doesn't have a concussion, doesn't need surgery and can walk on her leg, despite the injury. Also, she and my dad can still go on their trip in the fall.

I don't know what it is with my family and why we keep falling and breaking things. Two years ago, my mom broke her wrist while hiking in Patagonia; my dad fell and sprained his ankle while walking around Easter Island (at least their injuries were "exotic.") Then my grandmother fell and broke HER wrist; and then this year, my mom and I were injured. I guess we're just klutzy people ... or perhaps we are cursed. Maybe I should change the name of this site to BROKEN Thighs Of The Beholder.

This isn't really about me today, but to bring this back to the theme of this blog for a moment, I did not binge, even though I was tempted. I was very stressed as I waited for my dad to call with news about the X-rays, but I forced myself not to buy chocolate and instead had a sensible meal of grilled chicken and rice.

Getting back to my mom, though, I'm glad that she's okay. I'm especially glad that the doctor gave her the go-ahead on their trip because she would've been really disappointed if she'd had to miss that. However, I think my family has filled our quota of keeping orthopedists in business. I'm all for us taking a break from anymore bad breaks for the time being!

Good News, Bad News

First the good news: my hard cast was removed today and I am now sporting an Air Cast, which looks a bit like a Storm Trooper boot. I'm also beginning physical therapy next week so that I can start regaining stength in my bad leg. My doctor says that it's healing well.

Unfortunately, it hasn't healed enough for me to start walking on it. The bone is still fractured, so I have to wait another three weeks. Damn.

This news, of course, messes up a lot of my plans. I'm going to need more time off from work, which I'm sure my boss will LOVE, and it means more work for Jon, who's been taking such good care of me. It also means three more weeks until I can stand on the scale again. So for any readers who've been keeping up with my "countdown," I'm afraid, it's kind of anticlimactic. Guess you'll have to tune in for Countdown, Part 2: Electric Boogaloo.

Meantime, I'll continue lifting weights, plus I'll now be getting my workouts at physical therapy. Not sure what they'll be able to have me do since I can't stand up -- I guess they'll have me stretch the foot or perhaps someone will manipulate it. My doctor is also having someone come by my place with this ultrasound machine that stimulates the bone growth. How high tech -- and weird! I wish they made something like that to destimulate fat. It would be sort of like liposuction, only instead of sucking out fat, you'd vibrate it and it would melt. If only...

At this point, I'm wondering if I ever really wil walk again, but since my leg IS improving, I guess I have to believe it. Still, I was feeling a little sad as I looked over some pics from the New Zealand trip that we took a few years ago. I was in decent shape at the time and was able to do quite a bit of hiking -- more than I'd anticipated. I hope that I'll be able to have another trip like that, if not in NZ than somewhere else.

My emotions have been all over the place during this journey. Some days, I'm fine and even happy and then there are days like today, where I'm a bit frustrated. All I want is to be healthy again -- in regards to my weight, my leg and my mental well-being.

One Week To Go...

Exactly a week from tomorrow I will be getting my hard cast off and will switch to a walking cast. Presumably, I will be able to put weight on my bad leg again and will slowly get back to normal.

This should be good news, but I'm apprehensive, to say the least. For one thing, I'm a wimp and I always seem to end up in some form of pain when I'm at the orthopedist's. Everyone who's recovered from a broken leg has told me that it feels "weird" at first, but I'm just going to go ahead and assume that "weird" is code for "painful." If I'm a little sore, I can deal with it, I think, but the last time I stood on that leg (when I accidentally put my foot down while trying to use crutches), I just about passed out from the agony. Of course, that happened two months ago, so I like to think that my leg has healed a lot since then.

However, I'm also nervous about returning to "normal." Prior to breaking my leg, my being able to walk wasn't necessarily a happy thing for me. Because of my weight, I slugged around and had terrible back pain. Even going to my office -- a 10-minute walk from the bus stop -- was a drag, especially because it's up a hill. I had all of my stops planned out. I'd walk two blocks, then sit on the steps by the church; walk another two and sit on the low ledge by the library; get my breakfast at the deli and then sit on one of the big flower pots in front of our office building while I fished out my work ID from my bag. So that was several stops in the course of a very short walk and yet I still couldn't wait to sit down once I made it upstairs to my office.

Of course, it was even more difficult getting out to do things. If we went into the city, I'd try to find things to do that were right near a subway stop so that I wouldn't have to walk far. I'd planned to have my birthday at a lounge that was right off of the E train, but then they ended up rerouting it that night. We had to get off about three blocks away ... but for me, it felt like three miles. I was so sore and sweaty by the time we arrived and I know that Jon was sick of hearing me complain.

On weekends, I'd often stay in just because I didn't want to have to walk to the movies or to the park. It was more than me being lazy. I WANTED to go. I WANTED to do stuff. It was just hard to get up the motivation when I knew that I'd be hurting. Jon was always patient with me and never said anything when I wanted to take a rest -- even if it was at every block -- but walking was just plain hard for me.

That said, I have to admit that it's been a bit of a relief to be able to go places without having to experience back pain. I've managed to do a lot in the wheelchair and it's been well, nice, being able to go out and see stuff -- and actually enjoy the experience. A few weeks ago, Jon and I went to pick up my walking boot, then took in a movie and lunch at an outdoor cafe near the park. It was such a nice day, but had I walked there (it's about a mile and change from our place), I would've been hurting.

This is why I worry. Now that one of my legs isn't going to be in great shape, how much worse am I going to feel than I did before? I've been lifting weights and trying to watch what I eat, but I have no idea whether I've lost or gained weight or what. I FEEL pretty good -- I've definitely built up some upper body strength -- but I'm still obese. If it took all of my energy to walk a few blocks on two good legs, how on earth will I do it with one-and-a-half? Is it even going to be possible or am I going to have to take more time off from work, simply because I won't be able to move my huge body?

Jon keeps telling me that it'll take time and I'll slowly get my walking back. He's suggested that we keep the wheelchair for a while so that he can still take me longer distances and then I can work on walking around the house, around stores, a block at a time. As for going to work, I guess I'll just have to take it really slowly like the elderly man in our building who practically crawls to the bus stop with his walker each day. And then I'll be in physical therapy. I'm going to be honest with them about what bad shape I was in even before I broke my leg and see if they can assist me with some exercises that will strengthen my back, as well. I guess all I can do is my best and if I need to take more time off to improve, I will. They've done OK without me so far.

I want to get well and I want to get into shape again -- and I know that the only way that I'm going to do this is if I lose weight and push myself. But I'm really not looking forward to dealing with the constant pain that's going to come with it. Part of me wishes I had just one more month to be off of my feet.

Something Seems To Be Working

I worked out six days this past week, only taking a rest day on Saturday. Meanwhile, I spent a lot of time cleaning and moving around in my wheelchair, which requires me to use my arms and good leg. I've been putting in a lot of effort in building my upper body strength. And you know what? It seems to be working.

I don't know if it's because I'm getting used to only using one leg or because I am getting stronger, but over the past few days, I've had a much easier time lifting myself into a standing position without help. In the past, it would take several tries and some support from Jon for me to be able to stand up and move into my wheelchair or from the chair into the car, but now I can do this in one, swift movement. I remember that the first time I saw my orthopedist, it took three guys to help me out of my wheelchair up onto the examination table -- and I still had trouble getting up there. But when I went today, I was able to grab the table and hoist myself out of my chair without help -- a really big change.

Jon says that he can tell that my arm muscles have become more toned, but I'm not sure if he's just being nice. I can definitely feel a difference, though, when I lift myself. I feel a lot more in control, a lot more secure and a lot more balanced.

Meanwhile, I got my final hard cast today -- a bright, neon pink one that says, "I'm injured. Move the hell out of my way, fuckers!" I like it. It did hurt a bit when my doctor had to flatten out my foot to get it in the proper position, but not as much as I'd feared. And the good news is, when it comes off in three weeks, I'll be moving on to a walking boot ... and presumably walking again.

I'll admit, I'm a little nervous about the walking part. Before I broke my leg, I was having enough problems walking because of my weight and I'm afraid that I'll end up re-breaking my fibula the moment I step down on it. Still, I have three more weeks to continue losing some weight and building up my strength. Going through all of this pain has taught me that maybe I'm tougher than I give myself credit for. But trust me, with this bright, pink cast no one will stand in my way!

Making Strides

Yesterday was the most productive day I've had since my surgery last week. I wrote a couple of freelance pieces and Jon took me out to dinner in the wheelchair last evening. We didn't go far, just to the Italian place around the corner, but it was great to get out of the house and enjoy some fresh air for a couple of hours. It was nice to feel a little less slug-like and a little more human for a while.

One thing we both noticed is that it's not only gotten easier for me to lift myself into and out of chairs, but I'm now doing more work in moving the wheelchair itself. Before, when Jon would drag me in either the wheelchair or the computer chair (I move on a computer chair inside our apartment because it fits through doors more easily), he'd be doing all the work, especially when he had to pull it over floor moldings. However, I'm now helping him along by pushing with my hands and good leg and it's made things easier on him. Truthfully, I haven't worked out much in the past few days because I've been so exhausted, but the weight training I have done seems to be paying off. I'm definitely going to do 20-30 minutes of it today so I can get back into that.

Since I can't stand, I haven't weighed myself, but I can tell that I've lost weight. At the start of this blog, I complained that my wedding and engagement rings had gotten tight and I had to use cream to put them on. But yesterday, they slipped right onto my fingers! Then when we were outside and I caught my reflection in a window, I could see a difference. I'm a lot less "chinny" now -- I have only two instead of three!

A big change in my eating is that I can basically only eat what's around me. Each day, Jon leaves me a basket of food with yogurt, fruits, a bagel and some cheese and crackers. Yes, I probably eat more cheese than I should, but the limit on foods is forcing me to get some control. I can't randomly wander to the fridge and binge on something in there. I've been attempting to fill up on fruits and veggies (Jon makes a great soup with root vegetables that I love) because I have this idea that eating healthy foods will heal my body.

My appetite has decreased, as well. When we went to dinner, I was so hungry and ordered chicken parm with potatoes. But by the time we'd eaten our shared appetizer of anti-pasto and I'd had a slice of bread, I was stuffed. I took literally two bites of the chicken and had them pack up the rest. It'll probably be my dinner for the next couple of nights.

I know that a lot of studies have been done on sleep and obesity and I wonder if my lack of sleep really has affected my weight. Usually, I sleep 6-7 hours on a good night and I rarely sleep through the night. But these days, I'm sleeping almost all the way through and have the entire day to rest and reflect. Yes, I get hungry, but I feel as if I'm feeding my body rather than my soul.

I think it would be funny and pretty cool if I end up losing a lot of weight during this time. I imagine that for most people, it's the opposite, but I'd like to be an exception to the rule!

Long Overdue Update On My Life

Sorry for the long hiatus between entries, but I had a little, unexpected "adventure" a few weeks ago. On April 1, 2010, I broke my fibula and sprained my ankle as I was exiting the express bus -- about a block away from my apartment. I just had surgery on my leg, in which a rod and plates were inserted to fix the bone and reattach the ligaments. I'm a little sore, not to mention mentally and physically exhausted, but otherwise okay. I'm trying to take each step (no pun intended) of this journey one day at a time.

One good thing to come out of all of this was that it forced me to get some medical tests, which I'd been putting off for a long time. I now know that my heart rate and blood pressure are good and that my vitals are decent. My blood sugar is a touch high, but I am thankfully not diabetic. And my liver values are slightly elevated, but not so much that the doctor was alarmed. I know that both of these values will decrease if I lose weight. Seeing all of these doctors, getting needles and getting my bone popped into place (which hurt like hell) has made me slightly less wary of medical-type people. That said, I've vowed to see my doctors more regularly once I recover. The doctor who gave me clearance for my surgery was a pompous ass, but everyone at the hospital was kind and supportive. I've put off seeing a doctor because I was embarrassed about my weight, but I've found that most aren't judgmental and truly want to help.

As for my physical activity, well, it's limited. At this point, I can't even get up without help. I can't use crutches because of my weight and my back problems, so I'm using a wheelchair. But my orthopedist assures me that I will walk again and has suggested that I get my start by using a walker with a knee support built in.

I can sit up and roll over without help, so I can exercise my arms and my good leg (and my bad leg to an extent). I've been trying to do some range of motion-type exercises to stay as mobile as possible and build up my upper body strength. It's working, I think. At first, I could barely get into a car without being supported, but now I can do it on my own.

In terms of food, I'm trying to eat healthy, fresh stuff that'll help in my weight loss and healing. I've been having grapes, cheeses, bananas, yogurts, vegetable soup. I'm not eating as much because I have to depend on Jon to get the food for me. But I'm eating plenty and am not hungry. I know that I need to lose the weight because it'll help me walk again.

I'll admit, when I could walk, there were days when I wish I didn't have to because my back hurt from it. Now I miss it so much. It's hard to even contemplate being able to walk again at this point, but everyone promises that I will and I'd like to be better at it than I was before. I'd love to get into good enough shape that I can do another walking event.

For now, I'm trying to keep my humor intact and remind myself that things could be worse. I could've hit my head when I fell. I could've been injured a lot worse. I could've been paralyzed. I know that this is just a bump in the road and is perhaps my chance to start over.