I Thought I Was Doing What I Was Supposed to be Doing

“That’s the problem,” he said. I looked down at my legs. I was sitting on a physical therapy table with my legs outstretched on the tabletop. I couldn’t see what he could see. He pointed to the concave shape of my inner thigh. “Your leg has atrophied.”

What?!? Atrophy might describe an old lady … maybe someone who’s in her late 80’s and immobile.  Not me! When I thought that I could speak without crying, I interrupted him with questions. “Is my other leg atrophied?” Yes, he said. Later that evening I would sob with Jody.

How could that be? Exercise has been a priority for me and after getting my knees replaced, I continued to exercise at least 5 days a week, whether it be aqua pool jogging, biking, or Pilates reformer. During my workday I piled on steps from walking the plant floor.

Over a month ago, I had graduated from physical therapy following my last knee replacement. What brought me back to the doctor was a constant pain where my IT band ended near the knee. My knees were terrific, but this new pain was causing me to limp.

What I learned is that all the exercising that I was doing was great, but my quads needed strengthening. If my quads were stronger, then the IT band wouldn’t have to work so hard. I needed to get my quads to fire.

I was introduced to Blood Flow Restriction Therapy. The physical therapist put a band similar to a blood pressure cuff on my upper thigh and pumped it up. This stopped the blood from flowing into my leg. I then did straight leg raises, quads over roll, and knee extensions. What this did was engage my quad muscles.

After two sessions with blood flow restriction therapy I was no longer feeling any pain.

I recently graduated from physical therapy again. I purchased a blood flow restriction band to continue the exercises at home. My goal is to climb Mount Fuji on our Japan trip this summer. No atrophy allowed.

Beth Does Yoga sortof

One-Legged downward facing dog

I’m a shadow of my former self is my first thought. I correct myself. No, Beth. You’ve never been graceful, subtle or smoothly moving. You are more of a lumbering sort, moving in a slow, heavy awkward way.

Class members are in an Eagle pose. Instead

of looking like the king of the birds, I have my hand reaching out to the beam support to keep my posture upright and my foot touching the ground, so I won’t fall over. Even with that help I am in danger of tipping.

Balance and Flex Together at the YMCA incorporates Yoga, Pilates and athletic training for balance, mobility, flexibility and core.

Sunday morning and I’m here with a mix of men and women. By the end of class, many will wonder why I’m here. I’m doing them a service as it will become clear that I’m the worst in the class.

My goal is to make it 55 minutes to the end part where we lay on our mat and meditate.

The class moves to a lotus pose. I stretch my legs straight. I’m not able to sit cross-legged due to my inflexibility. Class members don’t know that I’ve have had both of my knees replaced. The only hint is my yoga pants with Twin City Orthopedics stitched to the front. Who knew that you would get swag with a knee replacement?

Maybe class members think that I just don’t like following directions. That’s true too. But, once on the floor it will take me some time to figure how to get back up and it will not be graceful.

The class moves to a cat pose. Since this entails being on your knees, I move to the dolphin plank pose instead. Fluidly the group shifts from one pose to another. I alternate between the plank and downward-facing dog. Eventually, the class will meet me there.

I’m a lesson to others that they don’t have to follow along with the instructor and that they can make this class into anything they want. Indeed, it will at times look like I’m in a totally different class than them.

I’m also an example of how not to be embarrassed but a demonstration of positive thinking that anyone can strive to develop harmony in the body and mind.

On Monday, I will take my lumbering self to a Pilates reformer class. Overall strength, flexibility, coordination and balance are my goals. As well as not hurting myself.

Gracefulness is not on the list.

 

Being Heard

It wasn’t until I emailed a friend that I put the pieces together – I was afraid the doctor wouldn’t find anything wrong with my left knee.

I couldn’t stand for five minutes before I started feeling the burning pain. I contemplated going up or down the staircase before taking my first step. When my partner, Jody, asked me to walk our dogs with her, I groaned. Still, what if the doctor didn’t find any damage to my knee?

Finally, I had had it. I was in the back yard pulling weeds from our garden. My excruciating left knee pain had me sitting right back in the lawn chair. I can’t live like this, I thought. I grabbed my cell phone and sent a message to the doctor. I know an x-ray won’t show anything. Can’t we do an MRI? I am icing all the time. I can’t stand or walk without pain.

In April 2019, I had a full right knee replacement. That was going wonderfully. I had no pain. My flexion was back to normal, and I was soon to be released from physical therapy.

I’d had arthroscopic surgery on my left knee a few months prior to the right knee replacement. Next a cortisone shot in the same knee, but the pain remained. My left knee had always been more painful than my right knee, but it was the right knee that showed bone on bone.

What if the doctor didn’t find any injury to my left knee? Even to me, it seemed like with the medical care that I was receiving, I shouldn’t be experiencing this pain.

When I emailed my friend, my thoughts took me back to the sexual abuse I endured as a child. I was nine years old when I told my mother. She punished me. I’ll never tell you again, I said to myself. No matter how bad it gets. I didn’t say anything until I was eighteen and afraid for my younger sisters who were still at home. I went to the police knowing my parents wouldn’t or couldn’t protect my sisters.

The sexual abuse that I endured in my family and the results of that abuse were not validated by my parents or siblings. I wasn’t seen. I wasn’t heard.

I made an appointment to see the doctor. An MRI was ordered. Even though I knew there was pain, I found myself standing and walking to prove to myself that the pain was still there. The pain hadn’t disappeared. Still, I had doubts. What if I was the only one to know how painful my knee was? Prior x-rays showed nothing. I knew the pain wasn’t in my head. I knew the pain was real. What if I was the only one who would recognize the pain? The idea of not being believed haunted me the same as when I wasn’t believed as a child and the same as when my family shunned me for telling the truth when I was an adult.

Jody accompanied me to doctor appointments. I found it comforting to have her with me. Her caring touched me. Some people might think, of course your spouse would support you. I didn’t think like that. It was more normal for me to go it alone and authenticate my own truth. That was what I grew up with. It was in the waiting room that I told Jody that I made a connection between not being validated about the sexual abuse and my fear of the MRI not showing anything.

The doctor discussed the MRI results line by line. Postoperative changes of prior partial medial meniscectomy with increased tearing of the body. High-grade chondral loss. Increased bone marrow edema with a suspected new fracture. Moderate to large joint effusion.

In short, my left knee was a mess. A knee replacement was scheduled.

I had one final question for my doctor. “I don’t want to be a complainer,” I said. “How bad should it hurt before I call you?” Without hesitation she said to call her anytime.

A little piece of me healed. My knees will heal, cells will rejuvenate, same as my soul.

Jody and our son and daughter are traveling to Japan next summer. We will climb Mount Fuji. I imagine, even now, reaching out to the heavens in thanks for the blessings around me and within me.

I Stepped Out Of The Car …

Juan Jose and Crystel – summit Whitefish, Mountain.

I stepped out of the car. My legs crumpled under me. A stark reminder that I needed to make a date to have both of my knees replaced.

Gingerly, I straightened. Re-balanced. Even so, I walked lopsided towards the gas station. I took short little steps uncertain in my movements. With each footstep forward, I adjusted my back, testing my knees to hold me. To onlookers, it may have appeared that I had one leg shorter than another or hip problems. A little old lady shuffling into the station, focusing

Jody

on each step to avoid slipping on the icy asphalt.

In the car, I didn’t feel pain. Juan Jose’ had been driving the first leg of our journey to Whitefish, Montana. Sitting in the front passenger seat, I was able to maneuver my legs, stretch, elevate my knees, and shuffle my butt around. The suddenness of being unable to move or walk properly after resting in the car 2 ½ hours was frightening.

I hadn’t realized how unstable my knees were. I was well-accustomed to my knees burning and throbbing, having learned to lessen the pain with ice, ibuprofen, and exercise. Being crippled after sitting in a car was an eye-opener.

Dogsledding

I had planned our Whitefish, Montana trip to celebrate my 60th birthday. I wanted to introduce Juan Jose’ and Crystel to mountain downhill skiing, snowmobiling, dogsledding and cross-country skiing in Glacier National Park. Bucket list items.

In the previous few months, there were several occasions that Jody asked me if I wanted to alter my plans. Perhaps, be less adventurous, more knee friendly, more old-ladyish (though she didn’t put it that way).

I had planned this trip for well over a year. Reservations were made. Friends would be joining us. Knee replacement and sedentary activities would have to wait.

snowmobiling to the top of the mountain

The most difficult part of our trip would prove to be getting out of the car after a long car ride.

It wasn’t downhill skiing 6817ft from the summit at Whitefish, Mountain or being a passenger on Crystel’s snowmobile as she drove to the top of the mountain or journeying with Jody by dog sled.

I was comfortable in the car, but when I stood to take those first few steps I was crippled.

I’ll be seeing the doctor tomorrow to set a date for my double knee replacement.

Only thing is, I am registered to ski 15k on the Birkie trail February 22, 2019 and I have a trip to Florida planned the first week in April. I plan to paddle board, be a passenger on Juan Jose’s jet ski and walk on the beach.

I’ll pen the knee replacement surgery in my calendar. Stop adding adventures. Promise.