Moving Forward...life before, during and after a meniscus transplant

I went to PT this morning and got sent home after 6 minutes on the bike. It sounds like I’m being reprimanded for being bad or something!  No, I was having too much pain. And my knee is swollen even though it was first thing in the morning. So I got sent home.  I’m not even sure what I did to it. It being my knee.   PT lady said it could be the weather which has been fluctuating between high 50’s and winter cold with snow showers seemingly every other day. Regardless, I woke up today feeling sore in my knee and thigh, and my first step down the stairs hurt like hell. So I am icing it, and resting (as much as a mom rests), and pouting, and will try PT again Thursday. This is a really weird space to be in, physically and mentally. Still in the upside down I guess. I’m really trying to focus on the progress I’m making, but the progress is frustratingly slow and microscopic...which is what I was told this would be like. But being told how something is going to ...

I’m not sure about all of you, but this week has kicked my ass.  The bright side:  I guess I’m totally dealing with it. Rolling with the punches. Handling whatever happens without losing my mind. But, as a mom, is there any option other than  “just roll with it?” If there is, please tell me now!   The down side:  I hate feeling like I can’t get more than just my head above water, and I feel like I’m one annoying phone call away from flipping out. Haven’t flipped out yet, but came close! Deep breath! Nothing major, catastrophic, or life altering has happened. But man if there aren’t (seemingly) hundreds of little things piling up and making me feel like I’m just barely getting by.  I mean little things like our garage door opener breaking. And it broke at a time when I was rushing to get my sick kid from school to take him to the doctor earlier this week. The car was trapped in the garage!  Dramatic sounding right?!  So I climbed up a ladder and lo...

11 weeks.  Who cares, right?! Yes I’m still counting the weeks.  And I still care.  I kind of feel like one of those moms who has a one year old but refers to the kid’s age as 52 weeks.  Or a mom of a 4 year old who refers to the kid’s age as 48 months.  I’m not sure when I’ll stop referring to my surgery in post-op time. Not sure if/when I’ll stop counting. This has been a big deal for me, this whole process from June (diagnosis) until now. The more I can do physically, the more “normal” I feel, and the more I realize how this impacted me in ways I wasn’t really aware of.  I’m walking well. So well that people forget that I’m still having to focus on each step. No thanks, I take the elevator everywhere, no stairs please. Nope, not taking the scenic walk, let’s find the shortest distance possible and walk that way. Still kind of stuck in a place where I look normal but still feel far from it.  Swelling is minimal. Pain is minimal most of the time. It’s...

https://www.lookingglassbc.com/2018/01/Staying-On-Course Staying on course without running As mentioned in my previous post, I wrote a piece for The Looking Glass Foundation that was accepted and published on their blog. I am immensely grateful for the opportunity to contribute to this particular community!  I put the link above and will also have the content pasted below if you’d rather not click on a link within a link. Thank you for your support everyone! Staying On Course: Coping With The Loss Of What Helped The Most By Sara Cohen For as long as I can remember, I’ve struggled with my relationship with my body. For the past 23 years, I’ve been actively recovering from an eating disorder. In the past 5 years, I’ve finally felt like I was in a place where recovery wasn’t an active struggle. It isn’t that time finally caught up and I stopped caring about food or my body, or that the eating disorder magically disappeared. What happened is that I started running. Running is some...

If you don’t know what the “Upside Down” is, please stop reading this and go watch Stranger Things. Then come back and read this. The show is gold and should definitely be watched over reading this silly blog.  Ok. I’m at 10 weeks post-op, which is 2 1/2 months, which is also 70 days.  I’m happy to be so far out and yet I still feel so far away... from the end... from the finish line... wherever/whatever that is. I’m feeling a little stuck in the upside down. Far away from being freshly surgical but far away from back to normal. Functioning well but still having trouble.  The upside down.  Someone asked me the other day, after asking how my bunion surgery went...wait.  What?!  Bunion surgery??   Sorry that’s not what I had done, but thanks for asking how it went. I think. Anyway, this person said that it looked like I was all healed. Well, yes, healed but still recovering physically with PT. So the person then asked when the rehab will be over and how ...

I don’t have anything profound to say. But I have a little bit to say about several things. So this is like the “kitchen sink” of blog posts! On being sick I have been sick for 11 days now. Not just sniffling sick, but real sick where I have moments that I wonder what part of my brain is being eaten because I feel so terrible. It’s a virus that’s going around, apparently. It takes weeks to get over, apparently. It sucks pretty bad, apparently. I typically pride myself in not acting sick when I’m sick, but this is some bullshit. That’s all, just had to complain about how sick I’ve been, because my kids and husband are tired of hearing about it.  On the obnoxious cold It turns out that my knee is NOT a fan of the polar vortex cold weather. The second I step outside it aches and throbs and I limp when I walk. Somewhat disheartening but my PT says it’s: a) normal  b) to be expected  and  c) going to be this way for a long time We also had a “bomb cyclone” blow through he...

One of the first things I said to Alex when not running became my reality was, “I want you to find a new guide to run with.”   I knew I needed to say it right away because I meant it, but worried I might not be able to say it later once the reality of not running really had time to settle in my mind.  Guiding Alex, running with him, being his eyes while doing something I loved, was really something special for me, for us. It wasn’t easy or always fun, but it was ours and it was special. It was a unique challenge to find a combined goal and to trust each other and work together in that way. It was a really fantastic opportunity we had, and I’m glad we had it while we did.  {I should stop and explain to anyone who doesn’t know, that Alex is my husband and he’s blind, and we ran together for the past 5 years, with me guiding him by tether during races} So I wanted him to find a new guide, and continue to run outside and participate in races. I really did, and still do...but ...