Should You Be Lifting That?

I don't like having to ask for help. I never have and probably never will.

I learned during the surgery that it is okay to accept help. I still don't like to ask for it though.

But what drives me crazy is when people judge me for what I am doing now - 11 weeks after the final surgery.

For instance, at work we were told that we needed to box up our office areas and take home any valuables because construction would be occurring during our vacation. So I loaded my office space into three boxes. Books, papers, files, and office supplies. I tried to distribute the weight evenly since I knew I would have to go down a flight of stairs and through several sets of doors.

Now we all had to do this. Everyone was busy.

My boss saw me carrying one of the boxes and said "Should you be lifting that?" 

No offer to help mind you. She was busy with her own work. But that isn't what irritated me. I didn't need the help. It was difficult moving the boxes, but I could do it slowly but surely.

What irked me was her judgmental tone. Yes I had just had major surgery. Yes I had just been out of work for 3 months. But no I am not completely helpless.

Did she expect me to be weaker? Sicker? Complain more? Do less? Did she think I was faking the surgery?

I don't know.

But what I do know is that I am strong. A hell of a lot stronger than most people. And I don't need her or anyone else judging me for it.

Some Things to be Happy About

After yesterday's rant, I figured I needed to do some soul searching and find all of the things I have gotten better at since the surgeries.

1. I can shower without having to sit down.
2. I can shave both legs in the same shower session. I was alternating one leg per day for a while there.
3. I can bring the groceries into the house without getting winded.
4. I can walk.
5. I can run.
6. I can lift my daughter.
7. I can lift weights heavier than my daughter.
8. I slept 5 straight hours last night.
9. It still hurts to go to the bathroom, but at least it doesn't make me cry anymore.
10. I haven't pooped myself in 6 weeks. 


So I guess I am getting better. I should probably start saying that when people ask how I am doing.

Frustration

There are many things that are frustrating with this process.

My frustration of the day is the slowness in my progress.

I am 11 weeks post-op and I know I shouldn't complain. Things could be a lot worse. Things could always be worse. But this blog allows me to vent so deal with it or don't read :)

I ran a 5K at 8 weeks post-op. It was my slowest 5K time ever in my life. 

I began lifting weights again. I eased back into it starting small at 6 weeks post op, but grew more confident these last two weeks and tested out some max effort lifts. I am 20 pounds off my power clean. I am 30 pounds off my push jerk. I am 50 pounds off my deadlift. I am 70 pounds off my back squat. I am 80 pounds off my overhead squat.

I also did some time trials. I am 15 seconds slower on my 500m row. I am 30 seconds slower on my 400m run. I am 40 seconds slower on my 800m run. I am 1:30 slower on my mile.

My husband told me last week that I look angry when I work out. 

That is probably because I am. 

Crossfit

Truth be told, I have always been athletic.

I love sports. For a while after college I ran. 5Ks to marathons and everything in between. But the colitis made consistent training difficult.

About 5 years ago a friend of mine opened a gym, a Crossfit gym, and I immediately fell in love.

The workouts were short and intense, compared to the hours I would spend running every day. It gave me the feeling of being part of a team. It fed into my competitive nature.

And the best part....

I was never more than 200 meters from a bathroom.

I Crossfitted 5 to 6 times per week, even in the days leading up to the surgeries.

Although I would watch my performances go down the tubes - not being able to lift the type of weight I usually would, being much slower, feeling gassed just a few minutes into the workout - I knew it was important to continue to Crossfit despite personal frustrations.

It made me stronger and helped me recover quickly from the surgeries. It also provided me a much needed emotional outlet.

I was even in the gym, working out, 6 weeks after the first surgery, bag and all. My doctor encouraged it. Even though I don't think rope climbs may have been the best idea I ever had, it was important that I take back my life.

I also received an overwhelming amount of support from my Crossfit family. Cards, flowers, gifts, meals, visits. Their positive spirit helped me through the toughest experience of my life.

I have been easing back into my workout routine over the last four weeks and the support is indescribable.

Even though I am now the last person to finish the workout, even though I can not lift as much as I used to, even though I can not perform dead-hang pull ups, ring dips, handstand push-ups, and a plethora of other movements the way I used to, my friends still cheer me on and assure me that I am amazing and will get my groove back.

Truth be told, they are the amazing ones.

With Gratitude

When I returned to work one of my colleagues asked me how the surgeries went.

I responded: 

"It was a great experience."

I immediately realized that I sounded like a freak.

Who says that surgery, especially a series of surgeries as complicated as this type, is a great experience?

I must explain...

During this ordeal, I learned an incredible amount about my family, my friends, and most importantly about myself.

I learned that my family will be there through anything. They will visit you every day in the hospital. They will bring you milkshakes. They will clean your bathroom. The gruesome moments that no one else sees, they see those, and they will do whatever they can to help even if it means just letting you cry. 

I learned that those who I thought were friends were not really the friends I thought they were. I was shocked when I went 13 weeks without any contact from some of my colleagues whom I previously considered friends. No text messages, no checking on how I was doing via Facebook. I wasn't expecting phone calls, cards, or flowers, but I was shocked by how quickly I was forgotten.

In this, I learned who my true friends are. The many who sent cards which helped keep my spirits high. The overwhelming amount of flowers I received in the hospital - some from friends I had not seen in months. The time taken out of busy schedules to come visit, many driving well out of their way to simply sit on my couch with me. The meals that showed up at our door that kept us fed throughout the entire first month of the ordeal. The emails, the texts, the phone calls, the Words with Friends games. I will never be able to express my gratitude for these friends.

I also learned that "Til death do us part" truly meant that to my husband. He was there every step of the way. He was a full time dad to our new child, a full time caregiver to me, all while working his full time job. He never lost his cool either, or at least never let me see it. He cooked the meals, cleaned the house, did the laundry, and comforted and catered to me. Soup with saltines at 9pm? Grilled cheese at 7am? Run to the store for more Imodium? Trip to the emergency room because I thought I had a blockage? He never acted like I was an inconvenience. He once told me that he loved me because I could help him move our furniture. He has now seen me, someone he fell in love with for her strength and independence, at my weakest and most vulnerable. And I think he loves me more now than he did when we got married. 

And from this all I have learned a lot about myself. You never know what you are made of until you are tested. This was the biggest test I ever faced and I am proud to say I passed. I am still adjusting and I've heard it can take up to a year. There are good days and there are bad days, but I guess I was right...

It has been a great experience.

The People I Hate

I know hate is a strong word. But right now it is the only word I can find to describe how I feel about certain people I have encountered over the last few months. These are all comments that were said to me over the last 4 months...

Person # 1 - Mr. or Mrs. "I Know More Than You"
"You should eat gluten free, dairy free, organic, macrobiotic..."
"You should exercise more/less."
"You should drink more water/drink less water."
"You should do yoga, pray, avoid crowds, carry hand sanitizer."

Thanks for the advice idiot - I've been there done that for the last 16 years. Trust me your brilliant idea was my brilliant idea 10 years ago and IT DIDN'T WORK. It's not like I just woke up one day and said "Boy I would really like to have my large intestine removed today." Right now I just want to punch you in the face.

Person # 2 - Mr. or Mrs. "My Life Is Worse Than Yours"
"I had a cold and couldn't work out last week. God you don't know how hard it was."
"I feel awful. I didn't sleep well last night."
"Things have just been crazy with work. I haven't worked out in 4 weeks. I feel like I'm starting from scratch. You know how that is."

Wow! Your life is so hard. I feel so awful for you. Living with half a brain must be difficult. Are you seriously going to complain about your cold to me? I don't feel bad for you. You think not sleeping last night was hard? I've done the crying baby thing and you know what I would rather do that any night of the week. I haven't slept either but it's because I am up every hour to go to the bathroom. I wear a diaper because I can't control my bowls. My diaper rash is worse than my daughter's. God I hate people sometimes!


Person # 3 - Mr. or Mrs. "Let's Compare Surgeries"
"It can't be that bad. When I had my C-section...."
"You will be fine. When I had my hysterectomy...."
"When I had my foot surgery..."
"When I had my knee surgery..."
"When I had my gallbladder out..."

Guess what! I don't want to talk about your surgery. If I did, I would have asked. And your surgery was nothing like my surgery so let's not compare. 

Person # 4 - Mr. or Mrs. "Insensitive"
"At least you don't have cancer."

Yes someone said that to me. They didn't have cancer either. Even if they did, their words would not have helped in any way, shape or form. 

Teaching & Learning

Teaching is a great job. Thankless at times, but so rewarding.

The hardest part of the job...
not getting to go to the bathroom when you need to.

I went back to work four weeks post-op, full-time.

I still had my back-up outfit stashed in a draw in my classroom. I wore long thin maxi pads as diapers (sorry guys I have no tricks - buy Depends). I taught sitting down. I didn't eat until I got home for the day or I ate very little, mostly chicken and rice.

I was lucky because my students, although they might not have understood, took pity on me and behaved. Or at least most of them did.

It was a bad idea all the way around. I should have listened to my doctor's warnings.

It has been ten weeks since the second surgery and I have not made any substantial gains. I blame it on my own pigheadedness.

I am fortunate to be heading into summer vacation soon and I fully intend on using the time to finish healing. I am living my life, don't get me wrong. I am not a hermit. I am living because I have learned the tricks of the trade - many that I have shared with you in this blog.

But I have learned that I still have some healing to do.