Coming In For a Crash

 

Picking Myself Up

I dozed on and off until about 6:30 in the morning but managed a few more minutes of sleep right before my alarm rang. Of course, I was closing to dozing off again before that horrible contraption gave out its annoying buzz. Now 7:45 it was time to get things done – letting the dogs out, feeding them both and French Fry. I put picked out some sweats, but quickly wished I would’ve left on the loose-fitting pajama pants I got for Chris and myself at Christmas that had the dogs’ faces on them.

Putting pants and clean underwear on and off is a struggle. I was fine to put my left leg into the pant holes, but you have no idea how much movement there is balancing on one foot as you step into pants. As someone who practices yoga and balancing, not to mention did all kinds of back flips on a nearly 4-inch-wide balance beam, I have pretty good balance. Today none of that helped me get pants on when my knee was basically flapping in the breeze. Using some good ‘ole ingenuity, I hopped one-legged onto a seat position on the bed, pulled my pants over both feet, hopped down and then pulled them up. Ta da. Dressed.

Pulled as together as I was going to get – which did not include brushing my teeth this morning or doing anything with my hair beyond getting it out of my face, and my face, well, IDGAF at that point -I sat with an ice bag strapped to my leg waiting for my mom to show up. She helped me out my front door and into the car, and away we went to the orthopedic urgent care clinic. We chatted about my lack of smarts on the way over.

Once we got there, I said, “Look, are you okay to see if there’s a wheelchair in there? Because I do not want to walk one more step further if I don’t have to.”

She laughed knowing that I that while I was joking, I did actually mean it, and played a good sport and found a wheelchair in the entrance. Then she pushed my hobbled ass into the building, planted me in front of the reception window where I filled out a litany of forms and might have even pledged my right kidney and maybe part an arm in lieu of payment if money became an issue. And yes, we were the first people to get into the urgent care clinic day, so chalk that up as my first win of the day.

Before I go any further, I must stop and talk about my mom. My mom is my biggest fan as well as my second biggest critic (after me, of course). She has no problem telling me when I need to get my shit together and directing my life onto another path if she feels I’m getting aimless. Even at 40, she’s as much of a parent as she was when I was 16. My first thought when my leg swayed aimlessly back-and-and forth like a leaf being tossed about on a breeze was to call my mom. Love Chris as much as I do, his reassurance and support wasn’t what I needed. Mom’s was.

And yet I still struggled with my sense of independence with letting this woman, who was in labor with me for over 24 hours, shoulder some of my burden. That is 100%, unequivocally all her fault. I was brought up by a strong mother who taught me to rely on myself and only myself. She told me there was nothing I couldn’t accomplish with her hard work and determination. I believed her then and I still believe that today. That belief in my got me to become a level 10 gymnast, a US-regional top-ten rated gymnast on the bars, and then helped me cross the finish line of three marathons.

Rocking it at Level 9 State

 

 Back to the present. Things moved rather quickly at the doctor’s office after filling out approximately 200+ pages of the same medical information such as: Name, DOB, marital status, insurance, known allergies to medications, substance abuse issues. It was tedious and repetitive, but the hardest part of the visit.

After cramping my hand from all the paperwork, we were immediately taken back into an exam room, and a doctor came in before we had even settled into the room. There was a lot of uncomfortable pushing on my deformed, swollen leg and then I was given an order to go to PT to get outfitted for crutches. I asked for a brace, but the doctor said that I would get one after the MRI once they had a diagnosis.

I was happy to get the crutches, but honestly, I was more interested in the brace. In the 12ish hours since I had hurt myself, I was finding out how much stability my knee had now lost. My shin felt fine, but there was a certain cooked, spaghetti noodle-feeling in my knee joint that was severely preventing me from putting much body weight on my left leg. Still, crutches were better than nothing. Leaving, my mom passed up the exit, and we ran into a middle-aged man wearing an Orange Theory logo jacket. Seeing us, he stopped to let us know we passed the exit and then politely inquired about my leg. I gave an abbreviated story of what happened, and then I found out this man would be my actual doctor for the coming appointments.

After establishing some chit-chat, my mom asked him about Orange Theory (OTF). She just recently got into OTF, a HIIT workout utilizing treadmills, rowing machines, and high intensity sets and reps for your work out and has even got to the 100-class achievement. Soon she was deep in conversation with this man instead of taking me onwards.

He asked if I was into OTF to which my mom replied that I had two big dogs that I love to run and walk instead. Apparently, I was now mute in addition to hobbled. My mother continued to tell the doctor how active I was, a former competitive gymnast and now a tumbling instructor, blah, blah, blah. As irritated as I may have been at being relegated to 2-year-old who was unable to formulate sentences adults could understand, I did become grateful that my mom shared this cult experience with my doctor. He began pushing on my knee – which didn’t feel great – and then changed my papers to add a brace to the therapy afterwards. Hallelujah! He also confirmed there was not some great stuff going on with my ACL and MCL, the severity to be determined by the MRI.

We met with the PTs who gave me a simple brace with reinforced stability on the inside and outside of the of my knee. The big ACL-tear brace is apparently $800, and if there isn’t a tear, insurance doesn’t cover it. I understood why I didn’t need that one yet. However, I was more than a little ecstatic to get the el-cheapo brace that didn’t make me feel like I hadn’t rendered my knee into a worthless piece of garbage.

Finally with the brace secured around my left knee and some trial runs with the crutches, we were discharged. My mom was set to push me in the wheelchair out the door, but my stubborn, independent streak won out. I had crutches now. I was more mobile and more confident in my mobility. I was also determined to not burden her further this morning. I took the elevator down, crutched myself out the door and got into the passenger-side door without the offer of help from my mom and off we were.

Now here it was, 16 hours after my injury happened, and I was suddenly an emotional mess. Since the fall, I had gone from a little worried (the actual crash), to relieved (toes were wiggling, I could walk in some sense of the word), to panicked (creepy lateral knee movements) to self-loathing (falling = failure), embarrassed, and finally settled on determination and acceptance which came about that morning.

In layman’s terms, my knee was now fucked. Worst case scenario would be that it’s torn, but either way there was going to be a long, winding, hard, up-hill road ahead of me that was going to take a lot of work. When I stepped into my mom’s car that morning, I was determined to rock the fuck out of whatever diagnosis they would give to me. I’m a lot of things: stupid, stubborn, hard-headed, slightly neurotic, but I’ve always been someone who isn’t afraid to put in the work and has never shied away from a challenge. 

I might not be fast, but I've always been determined.  Completing a marathon is an endeavor that is months in the making.

 

But now Determined Erin was suddenly tired. The road to diagnosis was going to take a few more days. My MRI was scheduled four days later, and my follow-up was another two days after that. My eyes were filling with tears as I looked over at my mom. I was so incredibly grateful that to have this mother who wasn’t about to stop picking up her baby, even if said baby was 40 years old. I also received a ton of text messages from Chris while he was at work checking on me and asked me all kinds of questions and giving me love and support.

I always knew I had their love and support, but it’s another thing to be at the mercy of that love and support and to see them take time out of their day to help you. I hate asking for help with every fiber of my being; it’s not my style. But I had no choice but to ask for help, and my family was responding back in spades for me.

I thanked my mom, my voice cracking a bit with uncharacteristic emotion from me. Note: I pride myself on being a soulless ginger.

My mom looked over and told me that it wasn’t bother – that I was her daughter who she loved more than anything and that she’d always be there for me.

The she looked at me and said, “You and your moon in Pisces.”