Chicks, Nails and Drooley Guy

I guess I've been a bit of a hermit for the past four months, living a fairly isolated life based from my livingroom couch.  I've had the advantage of being able to control my social environment and, for the most part, who is around me.

So I was in for a shock in the last couple of days as I commuted to work with the great unwashed.  I have forgotten what it is like to be in an environment where the confines of social norms are, indeed, for the greater good.  People are very kind to me ... they hold doors, they offer to help, they dodge out of my way once they see me.  But so many people are living on some planet where an awareness of other people, and what should and should not be done in public, are totally foreign to them.

There was music chick - her iPod was so loud that we could hear the words to the song from across the train.  And her taste in music was pretty lousy.

There was distingished gentleman - who agreed with me that if we could hear her music, it was too loud.  An affable and reasonably attractive, very well dressed, mid-40s guy.  But when he got distracted by his blackberry he started to chew his nails.  Ugh (but at least it was his fingernails)

There was space-invading sleeper man - the old guy who was leaning over into my space, couldn't get through a page of his magazine without falling asleep and his snoring kept waking himself up.  I didn't notice the drool until he got up to leave.

There was the guy who went bolting off the train to run to his car ... parked in a handicapped spot.

I had forgotten this part of the human experience, and I can't say I missed it.

Work 1, Me 1. I'm Calling it a Draw.

It's 5:30pm, I'm in my jammies on the couch with my feet up, debating whether I want to bother eating anything for dinner or whether my exhaustion will win and I'll end up asleep before 7pm.  I am a fan of eating, so if I'm choosing sleep over food (and let's face it - no way I'm making anything for dinner ... it would be ordered in), then I'm tired.

I may have started my day a wee bit early ... at 5:15am I woke to the realization that I had done nothing to prepare for the day - no lunch made, no clothes organized, no idea where my office keys are.  That's one way to launch yourself out of bed!  With an interesting mix of excitement and nervousness and uncertainty I caught the early train downtown and went to the gym.  Yeah .. I know.  First day back at work and I go to the gym first.

Score 1 for Me.

My coworkers seemed excited to see me, and judging from some of my conversations today, glad to hand my job back to me.  Not sure I want to take all of it back ....  :)  

The day would have been easier had my symptoms not decided to drive me insane.  Sitting became more and more uncomfortable (I missed my couch), and the numbness in my right leg was insane! But I have days like that at home too, so really, no net difference.  Might as well be at work where I am able to use my brain.  And my brain was great ... until mid afternoon when my body caught up to me.

The cool kids at the office invited me along for their Tuesday afternoon cupcake run.  Yahoo!!  I'm all in for cupcakes ... especially when butter cream cheese icing is involved.  But the ladies at the cupcake place .. really ... can you serve people ANY SLOWER?  I don't stand well for extended periods of time, so I crapped out and sat while my cohorts in crime waited in line and bought me a welcome back cupcake.  Which was promptly devoured - it never stood a chance (and is probably why I'm not that interested in dinner right now).

But my afternoon was downhill after that.  By 3:30 I was counting down the minutes and trying desperately hard to ignore the numb-induced-pain sensations in my feet and legs.  Sheer determination got me out the door, down the street (lookout ... cane lady coming through!! Get in my way at your own peril!), and onto the train. 

Score 1 for Work

I get to do this all over again tomorrow, but for now I'm very, very grateful for the people in charge who wouldn't support a full work week. 

Sheesh, imagine the professionals knowing what they're doing.  Again.

"Getting a Life" Isn't a Slam Dunk

You know it's time to get a life when:

• you purposely omit half your grocery list so you have an excuse to go to the grocery store again later in the week
• your parents stopping by to visit is A BIG EVENT
• you anxiously await the mailman and are disappointed when there's no mail
• you start replying to spam email
• you consider scambaiting a valid hobby
• you start doing half loads of laundry for something to do
• you comment on every status update your friends make on Facebook
• you actually go to "after the show" on www.drphil.com
• you're watching every episode of Criminal Minds, Big Bang Theory and any true crime show you can find even though it's rerun season

I found myself saying "yes" to many of those points, so, I started the monumental task of getting everyone on board with allowing me to go back to work.  I knew from past conversations with my employer that I am not currently the master of my working destiny.  Well ... that sucks.  The realist in me knew that as much as I enjoy my full-time salary,  the big bang approach wasn't going to work. Even I could admit that I'm probably not up to full time, five days per week, in the office. (Mind you, saying that I'm "probably" not up to it, hardly sounds like admitting it.)

But wanting to go back, doesn't mean I get to go back. It's amazing the number of people who get to meddle in your life when you're off on disability. I have three doctors, a physiotherapist, two disability insurers, my boss, human resources ... and then there are my friends and family who think they have an opinion  :)  Getting all but friends and family to agree (because really, they have no say) is quite the task, but as of this morning, the relevant parties have reached an "acceptable to all" solution.

YAY !!  My canes and I are going back to work next week!!

 For next week and September I'll start with two days per week in the office and see how it goes.  I'm confident that I can make it happen, and I'm sure I'll be tired at first, but you can't do until you do.  ("I can't do until I do" is my new favourite saying, closely followed by "I don't know what I don't know".) I'll never get  back to work unless I get back to work, and trust me, I'm doing everyone around me a favour.  People have been good at hiding their eye-rolls and most listen patiently to my latest update on how I'm doing, but even I think I'm boring now.

I officially declare it time to get a life.

Recovery - Approaching 16 Weeks

I'm tired of the symptoms.  They can go away now, thank you.

If I could wish one symptom away, it would be the numb feet. Getting out of bed in the morning takes some psyching because I know that the first stand of the day is going to hurt.  Ugh.  I hate mornings to begin with, let alone adding my first daily dose of pain to it. I can't get the coffee into me fast enough :)   Numb feet means I can't wear slippers, or flip flops or Jesus shoes - even my good foot that has full muscle control, can't keep them on. The numbness prevents my brain from accurately feeling the shoe on my foot and in all honesty, I can't always tell whether the shoe is on or off.

Interestingly, the symptoms from the nerve damage from the nerves my surgeon had to cut are much more tolerable.  Maybe because they aren't painful? Maybe because they limit me in different ways? Maybe because I can train my body to compensate? 

 The other day, someone told me I was so optimistic and cheerful.  In reality I am one breath away from depression every day.  If I let my brain wander down the path of focussing on the negative, I would crawl into bed and sleep for six months.  It isn't easy - I miss my swagger. I miss my stilettos. I miss the ease with which I used to do things.  That being said, there are things I can do now that I couldn't do a month ago.

• I got on an escalator.  Yipes! Sounds simple but you'd be amazed at how much coordination and balance is required to get on an escalator - especially going down.
• I stand with ease - motivated by wanting to say "HA - you idiot" to the occupational therapist who wanted to install armrests around my toilet.
• I use the stand-up shower. No more sitting in the bathtub.  (As an aside ... can you believe what they charge for those gazillion blade razors with built in shaving gel? .. I learned quickly that the balance required to stand in the shower, balance on one leg, apply shaving cream, keep that leg away from the water, and shave, all at the same time, is way beyond my abilities. But those all-in-one thingies are great.  More TMI).
• I don't use canes in the house - ever
• I can go up and down my stairs. I still wouldn't do that while carrying hot coffee, but I can carry small things

In terms of nerve healing - it's hard to tell.  I'm getting temperature sensation back in my left leg. It is nowhere near 100%, but my body is trying.  I would make the monumental assumption that if that nerve is healing, so is my proprioception nerve, but it is impossible for me to tell.  I'm able to pass the up/down test when my toes are pulled up, but I can't feel the difference between neutral and down.

Ever so slowly, I'm getting my life back. It may never return to what it was and I would sell my soul to be able to run, but I have an acceptable level of independence and a great excuse to make my kids unload the groceries from the car :)

The Crazy Lady Wants to go Back to Work

I'm really not very good with letting other people decide what's best for me.  It just goes against everything I believe about controlling your destiny and owning your life. 

But it seems I'm facing an uphill battle with my decision that it's time to get back to work.

When I tell people I want to return to work in two weeks, I get the same reaction ... a slight pause (while their brain works 10 million miles an hour trying to figure out how to politely say what they want to say), a "hmmmm", another pause, and then "are you sure that's a good idea?".

When I first broached the idea to my point of contact at work, she didn't quite laugh out loud ... but I'm thinking it took all the restraint she had to stifle it.  I got the pause ... the "hmmm". ... and then "well, that's really a decision your doctor needs to make".   Sigh ... that should have been my first clue.

Then I ran the idea by my family.  My S.O. was direct ... he's the only person who can get away with telling me that maybe I don't always know what's best for me :)  Other family members were more polite but the message "it might be a little soon for full time working" was loud and clear.

And then the sisterhood bailed on me.  You know, those loyal girlfriends who support you no matter what.  The ones who take your side with enthusiasm when you love something today, even though they took your side with enthusiasm yesterday when you hated it.  And they don't call you out on your opinion sine wave.  Even the sisterhood gave me the hairy eyeball .... the "hmmmm" ... the "are you sure you're ready for that".

Okay, so why is everyone wrong except me ? !!  I will confess, that is the thought that went through my head. But then my next thought was that "eveyone else is wrong, not me" reminded me of a boss I had once. She was a crazy lady who believed that all her employees were useless but that she was fabulous.

I have to face the possibility that I am the common denominator, that all my friends and family aren't wrong, that maybe my doctors have an objective opinion and that a gradual return to work is the best way to go.

I did a smart thing, took the advice of the professionals, and did a dress rehearsal of going into the office this morning.  I will grudgingly admit that while not "hard", the experience was more tiring than I expected and I was happy to get back to my flannels and the couch this afternoon.

I guess I've surrounded myself with good people.  But it sucks to be wrong :)

Stilettos and Spinning

I have officially passed the three months since surgery and my "before surgery" life feels like a lifetime ago.

I'm sleeping well for the first time in a couple of years, but sometimes in my dreams I am walking normally and easily.  I wake up to the reality that my feet are still numb, I don't know where my right leg is and I definately don't walk normally and easily.

I am in the dark days - those days between medical healing and mental adaptation.  Energy has returned so I'm feeling cooped up, bored, and resentful of my inability to walk for any kind of distance.  The Olympics are only a minor distraction, and if anything, reinforces to me what proprioception does for the human body.  My mind is starting to atrophe from the lack of mental stimulation so I am making a hard push to get back to work sooner rather than later.

But somehow through these times, I still surprise myself with my acceptance of the need to push hard.  I drive to physio and try to talk myself into wanting to be there ... trying to reprogram the voice in my head that is saying "ugh .. I really don't want to be doing this today". I strive for something more positive, at least "okay, let's just get this over with".  Inevitably physio guy expects me to do things I don't think are possible, and while not always 100% successful, I manage to avoid making an idiot of myself. (Like Friday ... "I want you to go up these stairs, two at a time, no hands ... then down".  RIGHT.  You're out of your mind.)  After I was mostly successful at that, he admitted that he can't plan my program ahead of time.  I am often successful at things he doesn't expect me to be able to do and he has to make things up on the fly.  I took that as a compliment :)

And even in these days of mental defeat, I still manage to set outrageous goals for myself. 

Yesterday I took out my favourite pair of shoes ... 4" strappy silver stilettos ... and tried them on.  The smartest thing I did was to stay seated - clearly my proprioceptive skills are not ready to handle balancing on my toes and half a centimetre stiletto tip.  I would have snapped my ankle.

Today I tried a spin class.  I can't ride a bike - with no balance and my right foot likely to slip off the pedals, riding out in the real world would be asking for trouble.  But a spin bike is hard to tip over and I can clip in my feet.

I lasted 25 minutes and it was HARD.  I was only able to do the first two standing intervals, and my heart rate was through the roof almost immediately (I don't know what it actually was - I wasn't wearing my glasses so I couldn't figure out which was the start button on my heart rate monitor!  That tells you how long it's been since I've worn it.)

The stilettos will have to continue to be contained to the bedroom, but spin classes ... look out! You are next on my list of things to be conquered.