I judged a skating test session yesterday, which is significant in many ways. It required a 5-hour car trip (I did not drive, although I did drive to and from my ride's house, about 10 miles total, with no problems). It required me to crutch around an ice rink, which is not exactly even footing. And, it required me to sit in the cold in an uncomfortable chair for 2 hours. Ironically the skating took place in Tacoma, which is where I had my PAO surgery just 5 and a half weeks ago. Those 5 and a half weeks feel like a lifetime!
I was a little nervous about this expedition, but I know that finding judges, especially dance judges, who aren't on vacation or at a competition and are willing to travel to Tacoma in mid-August is not an easy task. Of course I agreed to do it for the free food. (Just kidding, although the chocolate dipped strawberries were wonderful.)
Everything went just fine. I was a bit tired when I got home, and a tiny bit sore, but all in all I'm none the worse for wear. This was a good trial run since I have a lot of judging gigs coming up: a local test session August 30; refereeing a competition in Utah in mid-September (which will include my first plane ride post PAO); and judging Southwest Pacific Regionals, Pacific Coast Sectionals, and Junior Nationals (in October, November and December respectively, and all requiring plane travel).
I am now confident that my hip can handle all of this travel and judging, and I hope to do most of it without crutches or cane. Then at the end of the qualifying competition season it will be time for PAO number two (right now I am thinking early February, after Nationals). I hope to be recovered enough from that to judge Adult Nationals in April.
Showing posts with label Airplanes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Airplanes. Show all posts
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Around Anchorage
Last October, exhibiting the "Old Normal" - disco pants and all!
I spent the weekend in Anchorage, which is a 6 hour plane ride (plus a layover in Seattle and a one-hour time change) from Portland. Because of the distance from the lower 48, it's not the type of place you normally go for just a weekend, but I was asked to come up and judge some skating tests and always love going to Alaska, so I said yes.
I again found myself bumped to the front of the security line just because I have a cane. Again, I didn't argue with this; I suppose it's one of the only perqs for those with hip dysplasia and other disabilities. I felt kind of silly since I still envision myself as I was 9 months ago - healthy and young - and figured everyone in line saw the sham.
That was before I caught sight of myself reflected in the glass-lined walkway as I made my way through security. Who is that old, stooped over woman, shuffling along? Not an athlete or dancer with good posture and a spring in her step. That's the person I am inside my head, but the mirror told me the truth. I have certainly aged since August.
Once in Anchorage I did my judging and then went sightseeing with one of the coaches, her dad, and the other judges. Thankfully we were driven in a van and only got out to walk around when we got to our destination, where we had dinner and then came home. Quite the sedentary sightseeing, and so different from what I used to do.
I did do a lot more walking than usual though, and probably walked faster than my "new normal" pace. On Sunday morning I walked "around" the lake which was near the hotel. The old me would have done exactly that. The new me walked "around" -- meaning "near," not "on the perimeter of" -- the lake. That means I went from the hotel lobby to the lake, walked about a block along the shore, then turned around and came back. That was my limit. I was sore when I arrived home at midnight Sunday.
I hope that my future state "new new normal" after surgery is somewhat closer to the old normal, although I fear I will never really be "normal" again. It would also be nice to feel my age again, and not like this androgynous, clunky, staggering, shuffling elderly lady I've become. I hope to hold myself tall and walk like a dancer or an athlete again. I hope to some day really be able to walk "around" the lake; hell, I'd like to be able to walk all around Anchorage. I hope some day to be "around" normal.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Out Standing
I judged and refereed at a local skating competition yesterday. Judging was OK because I could sit, and the events weren't very long so I was able to get up and move around in between. But while ref'ing I had to stand for fairly long periods of time. My hips got very angry about that, to the point of hurting most of the day today.
I am supposed to be chief referee at a competition in another state 10 weeks or so after surgery. I have been reading on the Hipwomen list that traveling alone on a plane 10 weeks after surgery is probably going to be a Very Big Deal. Then to chief a multi-day competition after the plane ride/airport-to-hotel journey may be a bit ... much.
I really thought that after 10 weeks I'd be feeling great and able to resume such activities. But now I'm thinking, Not So Much. Even if I have the perfect recovery (not likely at my age, which for this type of surgery is advanced) it's going to be a major endeavor featuring muscle relaxants and walking aids and wheelchairs and fatigue and annoyance and mostly lots of pain.
I can still back out, but this is sort of an important competition to chief since it's supposed to lead to a referee's appointment, something I've been saying I was going to do for about 6 years. But obviously the timing stinks. I hadn't foreseen hip dysplasia in my future last year when I was setting goals for myself.
I also have said I'd be back at work in 6 weeks, because I only have 12 weeks FMLA on a rolling yearly basis and so need 6 for each surgery. But now I'm thinking that's not going to be possible either. It's a total shift in my thinking, but I realize this recovery is going to be longer and more difficult than I've let myself believe until now.
Outstanding.
I am supposed to be chief referee at a competition in another state 10 weeks or so after surgery. I have been reading on the Hipwomen list that traveling alone on a plane 10 weeks after surgery is probably going to be a Very Big Deal. Then to chief a multi-day competition after the plane ride/airport-to-hotel journey may be a bit ... much.
I really thought that after 10 weeks I'd be feeling great and able to resume such activities. But now I'm thinking, Not So Much. Even if I have the perfect recovery (not likely at my age, which for this type of surgery is advanced) it's going to be a major endeavor featuring muscle relaxants and walking aids and wheelchairs and fatigue and annoyance and mostly lots of pain.
I can still back out, but this is sort of an important competition to chief since it's supposed to lead to a referee's appointment, something I've been saying I was going to do for about 6 years. But obviously the timing stinks. I hadn't foreseen hip dysplasia in my future last year when I was setting goals for myself.
I also have said I'd be back at work in 6 weeks, because I only have 12 weeks FMLA on a rolling yearly basis and so need 6 for each surgery. But now I'm thinking that's not going to be possible either. It's a total shift in my thinking, but I realize this recovery is going to be longer and more difficult than I've let myself believe until now.
Outstanding.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Better Living Through Chemistry
Molly, me and Larry -- the photo is relevant because I know Larry will get a kick out of this post, and I love the pic!
A very well-meaning volunteer at a competition I recently judged thought he was doing me a favor when he suggested that I should contact his friend, a chiropractor who has "studied physics," who could fix my hip problem by changing the energy fields and the chemistry in my body. He approached me at a time when I had just lugged my bags several miles (or so it seemed) across a smoky Las Vegas casino, and I was tired and crabby and not really in the mood for advice, so I'll admit I wasn’t the most tactful in my replies. But really … give it up, already:
He: You should really contact ****, he can fix you right up. He has this amazing energy field program, which can correct almost anything that is wrong with you. The website is ...
Me: (with a tired smile) Surgery is the only thing that can correct my problem, but thank you for your recommendation.
He: Oh no, you don’t need surgery, you really need the energy in your body re-balanced. It’s physics …
Me: Look, I know you’re trying to help, but do you even know what’s wrong with me?
He: Well ...
Me: I have hip dysplasia. Do you know what that is?
He: Yes!
(And I’m thinking to myself no, you don’t, but you’re so convinced that your friend can help me that you don’t even care to find out what it is.)
Me: I have a structural imbalance – a mechanical problem. No amount of chemical changes to my body will correct it.
He: (interrupting) But the chemical changes will get rid of your pain!
Me: No, they won’t. You are wrong. I’ve done months and months of research. This problem is not caused by a chemical imbalance.
He: (Shaking his head at my stupidity) Well, if you change your mind, let me know and I’ll give you the contact information …
Me: (Frostily) Thank you.
He didn’t make eye contact with me for the rest of the competition. Clearly he thought he was right and that I was a fool, because how could I ignore the obvious scientific evidence? Now I’m all for alternative medicine, and I don’t want to have surgery if I can help it. But I know there is no alternative. I am getting tired of helpful people who think they know what's best for me.
This includes the person who told me that her hip problem "went away" after awhile and she was sure mine would too. (What are people thinking? That nobody has a real medical problem, and all problems can disappear if you simply have a positive attitude? Not on my planet, honey.)
This also includes the person who implied, without even knowing the nature of my problem, that if I got in better shape I wouldn't need to take the elevator instead of the stairs. Right, if only I worked out more, I wouldn't need this darn cane! What do I look like, an idiot? And hey, I'm still in pretty good shape compared to the general populace.
Ah, then there was my return trip. There I was, minding my own business in the airport security line, when the TSA agent grabbed me and said I had to go into the "Express Lane." Now that was all well and fine with me since it saved me about 10 minutes of standing in line, but it was what she said next that got to me: "You'll just hold up the line and slow everyone down." Let's be real here. Not even OJ is running through airports any more. The line was crawling. I was keeping up just fine, and I wasn't carrying very much. There is no way that I was going to slow everyone down. Being an opportunist though, I suffered the insult and jumped to the front of the line. There has to be some benefit to being disabled.
Finally, as I was waiting to get off the plane at home, I noticed that the man in front of me had taken my cane down from the overhead compartment and was offering it to the sweet little old lady in front of him. She stared at him, obviously wondering why he was brandishing this cane at her. I tapped him on the shoulder and said, "can I have that please?" He looked at me with a frown, because I was obviously trying to interrupt his good deed for the day, and turned back to her. I tapped again. "That's mine," I said, pointing. This just did not compute for him. "The cane ... it's mine." Finally, with a sheepish look on his face, he handed it over to me. And away I went.
Postscript:
I did a little bit of surfing through the energy field websites today. Clearly I had a lot to learn. Now that I'm more educated, I can cancel my surgery (bold and italics added by me):
"1st The Base or Root Chakra – Colour is Red: It is created at conception and located at the base of the spine. It represents activity in general, such as movement, energy and survival as well as grounding. It connects with the base of the spine and also connects the liver and is associated with most illness. Red is also associated with pain, swelling and inflammation and all heat sensations. When this Chakra is working correctly, we have physical vitality and strength. We feel connected to nature with a deep understanding of nature’s rhythms and patterns.
When disturbed it affects the liver and all adrenal problems. Most major middle and upper back, hip and stability problems are caused by disturbances of the Base Chakra. Long term disturbances can cause chronic back and hip problems."
Glad I know this. I feel better already.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Lost in PDX
Here are the highlights of my trip to Lake Placid:
~The rubber tip of my cane fell off on the first leg of my flight, and by the time I figured it out it was too late to go back and get it as I was "running" (those of you pre-PAO know that "running" is the euphemism for "hobbling a bit faster than usual") through the Atlanta airport, trying to make my next flight. Atlanta - now that's one big airport, especially if one is hobbling.
~Traveler's "Tip": Always carry a spare tip. Wooden cane without rubber tip on marble floor does not make for a stable walking aid! In fact, it's rather useless and just served to get caught in my coat and backpack.
~When I arrive in Lake Placid I have to explain to everyone who hasn't seen me yet what the cane's all about. Helpful yet annoying acquaintence tells me my upcoming hip surgery will be a piece of cake. "A friend of mine had both of hers done at once and was back in action a couple of weeks later." A few repetitions of, "I'm not having them replaced" did not get through ... I finally resorted to the tried and true, "they are breaking my pelvis in 3 places" ... Blank look ensued. I smiled and went to get some hot chocolate.
~I am told by everyone that the hotel is a "short walk" from the rink. This "short walk" is downhill on snow and ice and I have a cane that is broken. The able-bodied judges, some twice my age, walk to the rink while I wait for the shuttle. Alone. Pathetic. Feeling sorry for myself.
~Shuttle passes the others, who look mighty cold out there. I smile smugly from the warm heated shuttle seat. Perhaps there is a silver lining after all.
~My husband calls from home to tell me that my handicapped parking papers have arrived in the mail. Yee haw, I will be able to go to the mall before the holidays!
~On Sunday I am scheduled to leave on the 5:15 AM shuttle for the two hour ride from Lake Placid to Albany to catch my 12:45 flight out. Um, OK, I guess sleep is overrated after all. The later shuttles all appear to be full so I half-heartedly set my alarm for 4:15 AM.
~I'm on the shuttle on time. It's one of those big tour buses. Thankfully there is a bathroom. However, the heater appears to be broken. I attempt sleep in a half frozen state and eventually give up and listen to the guy behind me snore. The scenery in the Adirondacks is beautiful, but this early in the morning it's too dark to see much.
~I am in first class on my flight and finally able to sleep after a couple of Baileys!
~I arrive in Portland to the rare winter storm which has shut down the city. After traveling all day, all the way across the continent, I am halted within 20 miles of my home and have to spend the night in an airport hotel room. The lesson learned - always pack an extra pair of underwear just in case you are stranded for an additional night. Thankfully I learned this lesson on a previous trip and I was well prepared.
~Screaming children run up and down the hotel hallways into the wee hours. The people in the room above me appear to weigh a lot and walk around the room dragging tree trunks or dead bodies, and/or jump on and off the bed, until midnight. Is this my destiny? Do these loud hotel people follow me around every time I travel somewhere? I swear I am not making this up.
~The next day dawns bright and early. My office is closed due to weather, which means I can spend most of the day getting from the airport to my house. I take the hotel shuttle to the airport, take the parking shuttle to my car, drive my car downtown and park it at work, wait for the bus for an hour and a half (temperature = 18 degrees, but note that it's really zero degrees with wind chill). I know my car won't make it up the ice covered hill to my house without chains, and the last time I left a car at the bottom of the hill and walked up, someone smashed into it. Thus I am leaving the car in the lot downtown. I would rather bus it and walk than deal with that hassle again.
~Buses are on "snow routes," which means they come sometimes, maybe, on occasion. I ride bus 51 which shares a stop with bus 15. Within 10 minutes, four (FOUR) #15 buses come and go. None carries more than a few people. Where is the 51? Can't someone simply reverse the damn digits and give me a 51 bus? I'm freakin' freezing out here! And hey, I have to pee, but I am not going to do that because if I do I know the bus will come while I'm in there.
~The 51 finally comes (I've been standing outside waiting for over an hour and oh by the way, I walked 10 blocks to the bus stop) (and 10 blocks may not sound like much to those of you with normal hips but for me it is about 9 too many), and today the bus is on "alternate route" status which means it goes everywhere it would on a normal day, except near my house, and so I realize it is going to drop me half a mile from my house vs. a few blocks away. I get on the damn bus anyway because what else am I going to do?
~I realize that I am not supposed to walk, much less on ice in subzero temperatures, for half a mile. Oops. Oh yeah, I'm disabled. Forgot about that. And did I mention I never had time to get the cane fixed? It's going to be pretty useless.
~Bus drops me off, I walk the half mile (very slowly) ... the standing in the cold waiting for the bus made my hips hurt, but the walking on ice is making them REALLY hurt. I am almost home, but then ...
~I live on a narrow winding steep two-way road which is only about one car width wide. We call it the Goat Trail. I realize I may have to slide on my butt down the iced over goat trail to get home. Luckily I am able to remain vertical, but it takes a very long time to negotiate the icy slope.
~I arrive home to a roaring fire and needless to say, run for the bathroom. It takes about 2 hours to thaw out.
~Next trip: Cleveland in January, oh joy. Another icy cold adventure awaits, but at least I know I'm up to the challenge.
~There's no place like home!
P.S. - I would like to write about my ongoing adventures with that marvel of modern machinery, the automatically flushing toilet, which is available in fine airports all across America, but that will have to wait for another day. It's a topic I've wanted to write about for a long, long time, so stay tuned. It's bound to be a very special post, and just in time for the holidays.
~The rubber tip of my cane fell off on the first leg of my flight, and by the time I figured it out it was too late to go back and get it as I was "running" (those of you pre-PAO know that "running" is the euphemism for "hobbling a bit faster than usual") through the Atlanta airport, trying to make my next flight. Atlanta - now that's one big airport, especially if one is hobbling.
~Traveler's "Tip": Always carry a spare tip. Wooden cane without rubber tip on marble floor does not make for a stable walking aid! In fact, it's rather useless and just served to get caught in my coat and backpack.
~When I arrive in Lake Placid I have to explain to everyone who hasn't seen me yet what the cane's all about. Helpful yet annoying acquaintence tells me my upcoming hip surgery will be a piece of cake. "A friend of mine had both of hers done at once and was back in action a couple of weeks later." A few repetitions of, "I'm not having them replaced" did not get through ... I finally resorted to the tried and true, "they are breaking my pelvis in 3 places" ... Blank look ensued. I smiled and went to get some hot chocolate.
~I am told by everyone that the hotel is a "short walk" from the rink. This "short walk" is downhill on snow and ice and I have a cane that is broken. The able-bodied judges, some twice my age, walk to the rink while I wait for the shuttle. Alone. Pathetic. Feeling sorry for myself.
~Shuttle passes the others, who look mighty cold out there. I smile smugly from the warm heated shuttle seat. Perhaps there is a silver lining after all.
~My husband calls from home to tell me that my handicapped parking papers have arrived in the mail. Yee haw, I will be able to go to the mall before the holidays!
~On Sunday I am scheduled to leave on the 5:15 AM shuttle for the two hour ride from Lake Placid to Albany to catch my 12:45 flight out. Um, OK, I guess sleep is overrated after all. The later shuttles all appear to be full so I half-heartedly set my alarm for 4:15 AM.
~I'm on the shuttle on time. It's one of those big tour buses. Thankfully there is a bathroom. However, the heater appears to be broken. I attempt sleep in a half frozen state and eventually give up and listen to the guy behind me snore. The scenery in the Adirondacks is beautiful, but this early in the morning it's too dark to see much.
~I am in first class on my flight and finally able to sleep after a couple of Baileys!
~I arrive in Portland to the rare winter storm which has shut down the city. After traveling all day, all the way across the continent, I am halted within 20 miles of my home and have to spend the night in an airport hotel room. The lesson learned - always pack an extra pair of underwear just in case you are stranded for an additional night. Thankfully I learned this lesson on a previous trip and I was well prepared.
~Screaming children run up and down the hotel hallways into the wee hours. The people in the room above me appear to weigh a lot and walk around the room dragging tree trunks or dead bodies, and/or jump on and off the bed, until midnight. Is this my destiny? Do these loud hotel people follow me around every time I travel somewhere? I swear I am not making this up.
~The next day dawns bright and early. My office is closed due to weather, which means I can spend most of the day getting from the airport to my house. I take the hotel shuttle to the airport, take the parking shuttle to my car, drive my car downtown and park it at work, wait for the bus for an hour and a half (temperature = 18 degrees, but note that it's really zero degrees with wind chill). I know my car won't make it up the ice covered hill to my house without chains, and the last time I left a car at the bottom of the hill and walked up, someone smashed into it. Thus I am leaving the car in the lot downtown. I would rather bus it and walk than deal with that hassle again.
~Buses are on "snow routes," which means they come sometimes, maybe, on occasion. I ride bus 51 which shares a stop with bus 15. Within 10 minutes, four (FOUR) #15 buses come and go. None carries more than a few people. Where is the 51? Can't someone simply reverse the damn digits and give me a 51 bus? I'm freakin' freezing out here! And hey, I have to pee, but I am not going to do that because if I do I know the bus will come while I'm in there.
~The 51 finally comes (I've been standing outside waiting for over an hour and oh by the way, I walked 10 blocks to the bus stop) (and 10 blocks may not sound like much to those of you with normal hips but for me it is about 9 too many), and today the bus is on "alternate route" status which means it goes everywhere it would on a normal day, except near my house, and so I realize it is going to drop me half a mile from my house vs. a few blocks away. I get on the damn bus anyway because what else am I going to do?
~I realize that I am not supposed to walk, much less on ice in subzero temperatures, for half a mile. Oops. Oh yeah, I'm disabled. Forgot about that. And did I mention I never had time to get the cane fixed? It's going to be pretty useless.
~Bus drops me off, I walk the half mile (very slowly) ... the standing in the cold waiting for the bus made my hips hurt, but the walking on ice is making them REALLY hurt. I am almost home, but then ...
~I live on a narrow winding steep two-way road which is only about one car width wide. We call it the Goat Trail. I realize I may have to slide on my butt down the iced over goat trail to get home. Luckily I am able to remain vertical, but it takes a very long time to negotiate the icy slope.
~I arrive home to a roaring fire and needless to say, run for the bathroom. It takes about 2 hours to thaw out.
~Next trip: Cleveland in January, oh joy. Another icy cold adventure awaits, but at least I know I'm up to the challenge.
~There's no place like home!
P.S. - I would like to write about my ongoing adventures with that marvel of modern machinery, the automatically flushing toilet, which is available in fine airports all across America, but that will have to wait for another day. It's a topic I've wanted to write about for a long, long time, so stay tuned. It's bound to be a very special post, and just in time for the holidays.
Friday, December 5, 2008
Hip Travels
I just realized that I'm going out of town next week by myself. On an airplane. To a place with lots of snow.
Yikes!
I hadn't even really thought about it since in the past I've traveled a lot on my own. But now I realize that I'm going all the way from west coast to east coast with a layover in the middle, then catching a shuttle for a two-hour ride to my destination in Lake Placid. All with luggage. Lots of luggage. We're talking big huge down coat, snow boots, hats, etc.
It didn't even occur to me when I booked this flight that I might have to walk a long way from my arrival gate to my departure gate during the layover. That has never been an issue before, but now it is. Should I get wheelchair assistance? OMG, I can't even go there yet. Maybe I can ride on one of those motorized vehicles. When I get to Albany, how will I negotiate my luggage by myself? My last trip (first with cane) included Perry to help me; this time I'm flying solo.
Lake Placid is a winter wonderland in December. I sure hope that they are providing door-to-door service from hotel to rink because I don't want to walk in all that wonderland. I can't believe I'm actually saying that! I can't believe I'm afraid of falling down in the snow and ice but I am, more from the perspective of embarrassment than possible further hip damage. After all, I skate and I'm not afraid to fall at the rink. But who wants to see a lady with a cane fall down? Who wants to be known as the lady with a cane who fell down? Worse yet, who wants to be known as THE JUDGE WITH A CANE WHO FELL DOWN? I get a headache just thinking about that. The skaters already think we are too old and decrepit as it is.
I am sure I'll do fine. I'm just realizing though how much more difficult life has become, and how much I used to take for granted.
P.S. - I know those of you who have traveled home by airplane after being discharged from the hospital post PAO surgery are laughing out loud and thinking, "Ha, you ain't seen nothin' yet honey!"
Yikes!
I hadn't even really thought about it since in the past I've traveled a lot on my own. But now I realize that I'm going all the way from west coast to east coast with a layover in the middle, then catching a shuttle for a two-hour ride to my destination in Lake Placid. All with luggage. Lots of luggage. We're talking big huge down coat, snow boots, hats, etc.
It didn't even occur to me when I booked this flight that I might have to walk a long way from my arrival gate to my departure gate during the layover. That has never been an issue before, but now it is. Should I get wheelchair assistance? OMG, I can't even go there yet. Maybe I can ride on one of those motorized vehicles. When I get to Albany, how will I negotiate my luggage by myself? My last trip (first with cane) included Perry to help me; this time I'm flying solo.
Lake Placid is a winter wonderland in December. I sure hope that they are providing door-to-door service from hotel to rink because I don't want to walk in all that wonderland. I can't believe I'm actually saying that! I can't believe I'm afraid of falling down in the snow and ice but I am, more from the perspective of embarrassment than possible further hip damage. After all, I skate and I'm not afraid to fall at the rink. But who wants to see a lady with a cane fall down? Who wants to be known as the lady with a cane who fell down? Worse yet, who wants to be known as THE JUDGE WITH A CANE WHO FELL DOWN? I get a headache just thinking about that. The skaters already think we are too old and decrepit as it is.
I am sure I'll do fine. I'm just realizing though how much more difficult life has become, and how much I used to take for granted.
P.S. - I know those of you who have traveled home by airplane after being discharged from the hospital post PAO surgery are laughing out loud and thinking, "Ha, you ain't seen nothin' yet honey!"
Monday, November 17, 2008
Back from the desert
I am back from judging the Pacific Coast Sectional Figure Skating Championships in sunny warm Scottsdale, Arizona. It was a good test of my pain levels, doing things that really should hurt. I sat for long periods of time in an uncomfortable seat at ice level which, obviously, means it was cold. I had to stand a few times to give critiques. I carried stuff. I slept in a hotel room bed that was not even remotely comfortable in any position.
Then at night Perry and I did some walking outside where it was warm. After all of that I would have expected a lot of pain, but I didn't really have much. I even went without the cane on the last day when we went walking around Tempe. I'm not sure why I felt so good but I suspect, sadly, that it's because I haven't skated in over a week due to a combination of a bad cold and being out of town. I guess I have to admit that skating is not good for me, even though it doesn't hurt much while I'm doing it ... the residual effect is what keeps me up at night in pain.
Well, being stubborn, I'm still not ready to let it go. I even have some goals for myself. I passed my Silver Samba in October, the first international dance for me. I'd like to pass the Cha Cha Congelado and perhaps the Rhumba before surgery next summer. The Rhumba is so much harder for me than for normal people. With legs that turn in, it's almost impossible to force those choctaws. I can do it but it's not pretty.
I'm starting to worry about all of the reports from post-PAO gals that their operated leg is still "gimpy" and their quadriceps (which are "moved" during surgery ... I don't know if that means "cut" or not, but I suspect so) are never the same after. I can't imagine skating on two gimpy legs when this is all over. It just won't work. I have huge quads and use them for almost everything I do on the ice, so it worries me to think they are going to be cut or moved or whatever and maybe never come back. On the other hand, the post-PAO ladies who seemed to be in better shape before their surgeries tend to do better and I'm hoping to be one of those. Plus I know what it means to work hard in the gym and not give up on my gimpy-ness.
Testing 3 international dances before I go under the knife will make me very happy. If I'm unable to skate at all post-surgery, I can always point to those tests and say that I used to be an ice dancer.
Then at night Perry and I did some walking outside where it was warm. After all of that I would have expected a lot of pain, but I didn't really have much. I even went without the cane on the last day when we went walking around Tempe. I'm not sure why I felt so good but I suspect, sadly, that it's because I haven't skated in over a week due to a combination of a bad cold and being out of town. I guess I have to admit that skating is not good for me, even though it doesn't hurt much while I'm doing it ... the residual effect is what keeps me up at night in pain.
Well, being stubborn, I'm still not ready to let it go. I even have some goals for myself. I passed my Silver Samba in October, the first international dance for me. I'd like to pass the Cha Cha Congelado and perhaps the Rhumba before surgery next summer. The Rhumba is so much harder for me than for normal people. With legs that turn in, it's almost impossible to force those choctaws. I can do it but it's not pretty.
I'm starting to worry about all of the reports from post-PAO gals that their operated leg is still "gimpy" and their quadriceps (which are "moved" during surgery ... I don't know if that means "cut" or not, but I suspect so) are never the same after. I can't imagine skating on two gimpy legs when this is all over. It just won't work. I have huge quads and use them for almost everything I do on the ice, so it worries me to think they are going to be cut or moved or whatever and maybe never come back. On the other hand, the post-PAO ladies who seemed to be in better shape before their surgeries tend to do better and I'm hoping to be one of those. Plus I know what it means to work hard in the gym and not give up on my gimpy-ness.
Testing 3 international dances before I go under the knife will make me very happy. If I'm unable to skate at all post-surgery, I can always point to those tests and say that I used to be an ice dancer.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
The Cane on the Plane
Ode to my walking stick, with thanks to Dr. Seuss
I like my cane
It’s very plain
It helps me walk
Avoiding pain.
My cane, my cane
Sometimes a pain
Rules out umbrellas
In the rain.
A lovely cane
It’s wood, nice grain
Tonight I’ll take it
On a plane.
I live in the Pacific Northwest. Granted, it doesn’t rain as much as we lead people to believe – some of that is hyberbole and meant to keep the rest of you from moving to our little slice of paradise. But for the past couple of weeks it has been pouring.
With the cane in my left hand and my backback on my back, I could in theory carry an umbrella. But usually I have a latte or a water bottle in my right hand, or something that doesn’t fit in the backpack which I’m carrying to a meeting across the street. Normally this is OK with me so I haven't been carrying an umbrella to work. However, last night I went to the salon, where they styled my normally curly/frizzy hair. If I keep it dry this style lasts a couple of days. Without an umbrella I’m doomed.
I pulled my jacket (no hood! Damn!) over my head and “ran for it” (meaning hobbled a bit faster) and made it with very little damage to my head. The return trip was equally difficult and the rain was coming down harder. Now I’m watching the frizz start to pop out everywhere on my head despite the seemingly hours-long blow dry session last night.
Luckily this won’t be a problem in Scottsdale where it’s warm and dry. We leave tonight and I’ll get to see how amenable TSA is to walking gear, which in theory could be used as a weapon. Stay tuned for a full report.
I like my cane
It’s very plain
It helps me walk
Avoiding pain.
My cane, my cane
Sometimes a pain
Rules out umbrellas
In the rain.
A lovely cane
It’s wood, nice grain
Tonight I’ll take it
On a plane.
I live in the Pacific Northwest. Granted, it doesn’t rain as much as we lead people to believe – some of that is hyberbole and meant to keep the rest of you from moving to our little slice of paradise. But for the past couple of weeks it has been pouring.
With the cane in my left hand and my backback on my back, I could in theory carry an umbrella. But usually I have a latte or a water bottle in my right hand, or something that doesn’t fit in the backpack which I’m carrying to a meeting across the street. Normally this is OK with me so I haven't been carrying an umbrella to work. However, last night I went to the salon, where they styled my normally curly/frizzy hair. If I keep it dry this style lasts a couple of days. Without an umbrella I’m doomed.
I pulled my jacket (no hood! Damn!) over my head and “ran for it” (meaning hobbled a bit faster) and made it with very little damage to my head. The return trip was equally difficult and the rain was coming down harder. Now I’m watching the frizz start to pop out everywhere on my head despite the seemingly hours-long blow dry session last night.
Luckily this won’t be a problem in Scottsdale where it’s warm and dry. We leave tonight and I’ll get to see how amenable TSA is to walking gear, which in theory could be used as a weapon. Stay tuned for a full report.
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