tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15428175367419349942024-02-19T05:19:44.841-08:00Slow CheetahA mediocre athlete racing through life, events and hip surgery.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03255773212805645881noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1542817536741934994.post-4259381187910629512017-03-23T03:32:00.002-07:002017-04-13T15:45:41.176-07:00Crutch: The Unwelcome Sequel<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="text-align: left;">I admit that I stopped writing on Crutch, the original blog, because I lost hope of a full recovery and I didn't know what to say. In November, after attempting everything I knew how to do to recover, I tried running again. I was gentle. It was a very soft run/walk pace for less than 2miles. It hurt. It intensified for a few days and then it improved back to its normal level of difficult to miserable pain. So the next week I tried again.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH1rzLY_HwnXs7j3EN5TQNdt1AtcrUzoQOybprD3TW0xGtK6IHY0ehIeESjJ2XFP-DslD0LeDCsWsiydQ90K-TZz5JdvxBjsaIjBZ1w1rkxE5SdgjEapBOjzbbI68Q_Vle2FShA69srpQ/s640/blogger-image--1314118130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH1rzLY_HwnXs7j3EN5TQNdt1AtcrUzoQOybprD3TW0xGtK6IHY0ehIeESjJ2XFP-DslD0LeDCsWsiydQ90K-TZz5JdvxBjsaIjBZ1w1rkxE5SdgjEapBOjzbbI68Q_Vle2FShA69srpQ/s640/blogger-image--1314118130.jpg" /></a></div>
Bad idea. Intense, unrelenting pain radiated from my back into my hip and all over my leg. I thought rest would settle everything down. It didn't. I laid in bed in pain expecting things to get better, but it never did. Intense pain took over my life and left me with very little of myself. Every morning I woke up I would dread it because the pain cycle would begin again. I began to wish I were dead. <br />
<br />
I couldn't sit or stand for longer than three minutes without the pain becoming so intense I wanted to crawl out of my own body. Compartmentalizing pain took 90% of my brain function. I started avoiding people. I didn't want to explain how much it hurt or what my plan was for resolving it. I had one, but I was trapped until my new deductible year began again. I continued to work as much from the bed as possible, but it was absolutely miserable. The pain cave is a dark, deceptive place to reside. I was desperate to escape it.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTL2H3e4FL3Roil_lmtLyQvawc46Ur0Qk5QKPi5BIxIWd6VHFZnHFoQg0dvQl-vyHoWVF5w8gAaWgdNPd7JMxFWMcOKh1Z6HHQXD8CUXVaP_su57JJfk01qf-s9McVX-GCPF3Q5gfd478/s640/blogger-image--957148691.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqYF7gRDcc7P6SZYOuzVqKHZc_9gX9-6ZuLK3XEBPfUNaiY-aSw_tF9baCDNrEzDO3cDHdRRqfPWzs3znf2Y_IDNF2Vn7QtaGq0lVYTPX1HgnPIJQCUF9RUMNP5Krx4Jf7unUMagHkfnU/s640/blogger-image-120682437.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqYF7gRDcc7P6SZYOuzVqKHZc_9gX9-6ZuLK3XEBPfUNaiY-aSw_tF9baCDNrEzDO3cDHdRRqfPWzs3znf2Y_IDNF2Vn7QtaGq0lVYTPX1HgnPIJQCUF9RUMNP5Krx4Jf7unUMagHkfnU/s320/blogger-image-120682437.jpg" width="241" /></a><b><u>Thursday, January 5th, 2017</u></b><br />
I saw Dr. Gombera of the Fondren Clinic. The clinic X-rayed my right hip and I waited to see him. He listened to my history, assessed my pain location, then he told me he felt the pain wasn't coming from my hips. That it was possible the pain was never coming from my hips. He kept repeating, "Ask me another question." We would think of a concern, he would answer, and he would repeat, "Ask me another question." Finally he said, "You haven't asked me the most important question of all, should you have had the hip scopes in 2015 to begin with?"<br />
<br />
Rich and I looked at each other a bit stunned. With so many various issues seen and corrected in my previous bilateral hip scopes, we never considered any other answer. Dr. Gombera responded that I had a condition known as coxa profunda. <br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl0s7Erzl6C0VcwYXznnWwX2yhfYAImTn51HbKFFmKD0zVp0VqQuUREyOH0RSJn8ke_QmyLaEmmE93EPLv9AlbJ3VCzxC8QrSzpX-rpExQBZTVhq07RX4psDFkfSuoLM7oWU9AQJ4qjv0/s640/blogger-image-1103811868.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl0s7Erzl6C0VcwYXznnWwX2yhfYAImTn51HbKFFmKD0zVp0VqQuUREyOH0RSJn8ke_QmyLaEmmE93EPLv9AlbJ3VCzxC8QrSzpX-rpExQBZTVhq07RX4psDFkfSuoLM7oWU9AQJ4qjv0/s320/blogger-image-1103811868.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></b>
<b style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Coxa profunda</b><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"> refers to a deep acetabular socket. On pelvis x-rays it is seen as the acetabular fossa being medial to the ilioischial line. It should be differentiated from protrusio acetabuli, where the femoral head is seen additionally medial to the ilioischial line.-</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #006621; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: nowrap;">https://radiopaedia.org/articles/coxa-profunda</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNnEsC9cbhVlsTWzoLa7KXZFEmCaoYX3gEGAJDj2gwsV0LxFuBsPs5FY9yhRzWJlpcROitDt6lKIA87dfjhlNtu0wFPH93vwdUou-uEtOy80b4PgeF_iU91Zd585a634Cai3FAodNNjIE/s640/blogger-image--929535967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNnEsC9cbhVlsTWzoLa7KXZFEmCaoYX3gEGAJDj2gwsV0LxFuBsPs5FY9yhRzWJlpcROitDt6lKIA87dfjhlNtu0wFPH93vwdUou-uEtOy80b4PgeF_iU91Zd585a634Cai3FAodNNjIE/s320/blogger-image--929535967.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Basically, I was born with deep hip sockets. Dr. Gombera felt that my deep hip sockets restricted normal hip range of motion forcing my sacroiliac (SI) joint and my lumbar spine into more motion and force than they were designed to take. He didn't say it quite like that so I can't quote him on it, but his theory did make sense. It was a possibility. He did mention that if he operated on me, he would not scope me. He would want to do an open incision. He recommended I try pain management first. This was also logical. If the pain was generating from an unhappy SI joint, then I wouldn't need more hip surgery. We would need to treat the SI joint. If the pain was generating from the spine, same theory. Both of these offered a less invasive option worth trying first. So we did.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><u>Thursday, January 12th, 2017</u></b><br />
I wasn't particularly crazy about going to pain management. To be fair, it wasn't all their fault. It was the term "management." It doesn't imply a cure. I wanted a cure. I was tired. The tremendous pain, the unknown-all of it was getting to me. I liked his office manager, who was helping as nurse that day due to a staff shortage, and once I met him, I liked Dr. McHugh. He was used to moving at top speed and I slowed him down as I asked many questions. <i>(The kindest thing we could ever do to our health care providers is put the time to care about people the way they want to back in their day. But that's another story.)</i> He efficiently scheduled my procedure. <br />
<br />
<b><u>Friday, January 20th, 2017</u></b><br />
I had to be at Southeast Texas Medical Center by 6AM for an SI joint injection. I was told I could opt out or in for twilight (conscious) sedation. I opted out. There were approximately 40 of us there for various injections. Only two of us opted out of anesthesia. I didn't want to be sedated. I wanted to be aware if the short-acting numbing medication injected with the steroid would make any difference I wanted to be completely aware. I was most definitely aware they were in the right spot, but I never received the immediate relief other people had blogged about or written about on FB. Not at all. Richard drove and we had to throw in some various errands that day. It was all I could do not to lose my temper or crawl out of the car. None of it was his fault. We were both optimistic it would help and life doesn't stop just because you have pain. I went home, went to bed, and never improved. I ended up with several nights of insomnia and pain. It was a rough time. I kept my hopes up though. I wanted it to help.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Wednesday, February 1st, 2017</u></b><br />
I went back into Dr. McHugh's office for the SI joint injection follow up. I was pacing, my blood pressure was up, I was miserable. He offered a lumbar epidural based on a 2014 that showed a small herniation at L2-L3, but he argued the prudent thing would be to repeat the MRI. He was right. Once again, he moved quickly. He managed to get me in for the test the next day.<br />
<br />
<b><u>Thursday, February 2nd, 2017</u></b><br />
I had the MRI. It was a miserable wait since I can't stand or sit without pain, but I did it.<br />
<br />
<u><b>Tuesday, February 7th, 2017</b></u><br />
Dr. McHugh called and asked me if this pain started in my hip or my back first. I admit that I am not the best pain historian. I tend to live in the moment of whatever I am experiencing. I said my hip, but that the pain was diffuse and hard to pinpoint now. I just hurt. From my back to lateral hip. I was having muscle spasms from my shoulder all the way down my leg, on both sides, mostly the right though. He asked me to come to his office that afternoon. <br />
I hung up and called Richard. I said, "They found something, but it's not cancer or they would have asked me to bring you." The moment I said that, the phone beeped. I clicked over to answer and the receptionist at Dr. McHugh's office asked me to bring Richard. I clicked back over and told Richard it wasn't going to be good news. On the way over, I said to Richard, I've always wondered what people would do if they could go back to the last day, the last hour, the last 15 minutes before they heard the word cancer. There is something so free in never having to think the C word applies to you. <br />
<br />
We sat in Dr. McHugh's office waiting to see him. It felt he had some news he didn't want to tell me. He stumbled over the start a few times. He wouldn't look at us. His face stayed focused on his portable computer screen. He asked me if I'd ever smoked and I answered yes. He asked how long ago. It's been 12 years now. Then he told me that my MRI showed something that he felt was myelodysplastic or myeloproliferative disease. He didn't say the word cancer. We were locked in this strange politeness about who would be the first to say it. So I said it. <i>Cancer. Bone marrow cancer.</i> I asked him how certain he was I had this and he said he was 100% certain. He said if the radiologist had remarked on it on my 2014 MRI he would be less sure. I told him I brought the 2014 disc thinking it would probably turn out to be very important to this visit. He looked at it and saw the same, and I'm quoting the report here, not Dr. McHugh, "heterogeneity of the marrow signal noted with apparent patchy replacement of the anticipated normal fatty marrow signal." In other words, areas of my bone marrow were different in appearance than expected. He perked up a bit at this news and when my husband inquired how certain he was now, Dr. McHugh replied he was 50/50 about it. He wanted me to have an immediate CBC (complete blood count) and he referred to me to an oncologist. As you can imagine, we walked out of his office stunned. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTSQnXahX3cWz5VVBzA84YW6lSNALIpp0i6EzfiLxDqN5R0LOqBg2IVsfpVSIMzQRSTUIU1quPzY4iUTHAMOuGz6nYvQitI0aSU6e-b6-8pw7FRMP4qclVzqYMbu-03KSUYqlIY8QuHe4/s640/blogger-image--1390757337.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTSQnXahX3cWz5VVBzA84YW6lSNALIpp0i6EzfiLxDqN5R0LOqBg2IVsfpVSIMzQRSTUIU1quPzY4iUTHAMOuGz6nYvQitI0aSU6e-b6-8pw7FRMP4qclVzqYMbu-03KSUYqlIY8QuHe4/s640/blogger-image--1390757337.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
I cried. A lot. I'm not a much of a crier, but I have been here in the last several months. I didn't want cancer. Who does? I meant it from the nurse in me as well as from the patient and human being. <i>I DID NOT WANT THIS! </i> I didn't want treatment. I didn't want my life and time to be controlled by doctors, nurses, insurance, and hospitals. (The best part of this whole mess is that Humana is pulling their PPO plan out of Jefferson County so as of June 31st, I would have no health insurance and cancer.) I was angry, I was hopeless, I was still in decent amounts of pain, even with meds, and I was spending my nights wide awake reading, learning as much as I could. I even had the discussion about opting for palliative care. It's my life. It's my right. I get to decide about the quality of whatever time remains. </div>
<br />
People said well-meaning things that were completely wrong. I didn't want to hear how a person's aunt was told she had cancer and the doctors were wrong. Those stories left me wondering whether I should be jealous of the aunt or hopefully guilty that I might be lucky enough to <i>be</i> the aunt, when someone else wouldn't be. I didn't want to be told not to worry. It made feel as if my worry was invalidated. It made me feel less understood. I didn't want to hear about putting it all in God's hands. God and I were doing plenty of talking and believe me, you weren't in on those conversations. I didn't want to be asked how fatal it would be. Some people asked questions around it so they could make their own decision just how much would be left of me.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
It was hard to control my reaction to people. So I withdrew. I talked to a very small and very random group of people about it and no one else. It was too hard to try to empathize with their intentions. I wasn't strong enough. That's something I will always be ashamed of, that I wasn't stronger or kinder, but it's also something that changed me for the better. From now on, when someone tells me something this life shattering, I will listen, and only listen. I'll try at least.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAilOP3tfLJePBVhwn8j8gKOD_EHt6qzGTc_voNE9BylJ0q5DnTzoWOk7aUu7rX7tBHJIozDGt-05l1YlGCYpAnSqqhtmpkAn6V2LTWO4TtY-gDzM6g2_axkp6mrtJYAuAMy9Jt7JhWg4/s640/blogger-image-716432056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAilOP3tfLJePBVhwn8j8gKOD_EHt6qzGTc_voNE9BylJ0q5DnTzoWOk7aUu7rX7tBHJIozDGt-05l1YlGCYpAnSqqhtmpkAn6V2LTWO4TtY-gDzM6g2_axkp6mrtJYAuAMy9Jt7JhWg4/s400/blogger-image-716432056.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
<br />
But there were funny moments too. I stopped sleeping entirely. I was eaten alive with worry. One night, I walked into our bedroom and grabbed a bottle of melatonin from Richard's bedside table, desperate for some sleep. As I picked up the bottle, the pills rattled, waking him up from a deep sleep. His face was straight out of a horror movie. His eyes, his mouth, even his little nostrils somehow made perfect little 'O's and he screamed like a girl. (Just like he did once on a ultra run. A a guy ran up behind Rich a few moments later and asked Rich if he heard a woman scream.) I bent over laughing so hard I couldn't catch my breath, until finally I said, "You should have seen your face!" <br />
He replied, "You should have seen what was lurking over me!" <br />
I left the room to let him go back to sleep, but I laughed by myself for a good hour.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>I'm going to skip some things here because while they are relevant to the story, the details would simply make it a longer read and it's long enough. It is fair to say that Dr. McHugh worked hard to get me into an oncologist very quickly, but that I called on a friend instead. </b><br />
<br />
<b>Tuesday, February 14th, 2017</b><br />
Richard and I walked into Dr. Bob Birdwell's office armed with years of lab work and two very crucial MRI's. Dr. B was at the front desk and asked me for all of my reports. I was nervous to give it to him. I wanted to sit beside him so I could analyze his every facial expression as he determined my fate. He sent me to the lab instead. He wanted a repeat CBC and he, personally, wanted to look at my blood on a slide. He took my two CD's to a trusted radiologist friend of his and they studied them together. Then he came into the room and asked me gently and calmly as many details as he needed to put together a full picture. Then in a manner only this man has, he reassured me he was going to research a bit, look at my blood and it would take anywhere from 20-30 minutes, but that he would come back with an answer. I don't know if I could have waited anywhere else. I needed to be in the hands of someone I've spent thousands of miles cycling beside. I needed someone who truly saw me as a person and an athlete, and not another patient in their day. Dr. B was so good to me. He came back telling me that my labs looked perfect. He said I had a normal bone marrow reconversion process common in endurance athletes and in women using hormone replacement containing testosterone, which I do. (I had a complete hysterectomy in December 2014 and BioTE has given me some incredible quality of life. I don't even think about hormones anymore.) <br />
<br />
I walked out of Dr. B's office so relieved. It was the best Valentine's Day present I've ever received. Later that day, alone in my car, I cried. I didn't want Rich to see it. I angry cried. I didn't cry for me. I cried for all of the people I left behind in that office. I was so furious that I couldn't take them all with me, that I couldn't share my un-diagnosis with them. I railed at God that He wouldn't let me share it. I begged, "Please, please, please God, just let me share this with one child. Just one child. Let them not have cancer too today." I cried until I was exhausted.<br />
<br />
<br />
<u><b>Monday, February 20th, 2017</b></u><br />
I didn't have cancer, but I still had pain, with no answers. I emailed Dr. Gombera's office explaining that I had gone through SI Joint injection without improvement and had an updated MRI of my lumbar spine that was actually clear. One good thing about the updated MRI is that the previous mild disc herniation resolved itself. I requested a CT with contrast. I was expecting an office employee to reply. Dr. Gombera replied explaining what steps he would normally take and why, but agreed that a CT with contrast would be prudent in my case. I was very impressed with his candor and his willingness to take the next step.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b><u>Friday, February 24th, 2017</u></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio2vEj7LgcnO9sRISM-VJ2qPAH1N2hSYsjZc2tIJowJXIpEpKI6NVLQHOkkXZwqRzAs3p8frY0LBYl9Q_bdpnUQZKcNv_kw0UEx17d1VSIpzgoK_aJaWykSXWGQKIzml5hMUy_TALpulA/s640/blogger-image--1874844923.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio2vEj7LgcnO9sRISM-VJ2qPAH1N2hSYsjZc2tIJowJXIpEpKI6NVLQHOkkXZwqRzAs3p8frY0LBYl9Q_bdpnUQZKcNv_kw0UEx17d1VSIpzgoK_aJaWykSXWGQKIzml5hMUy_TALpulA/s400/blogger-image--1874844923.jpg" width="300" /></a>Being so close to the Exygon & Baptist Hospitals Gusher Marathon, Exxpress Mart Half Marathon and Kinsel Ford 5K, Rich couldn't spare the time to go with me for my CT. I could have asked someone else, but I'm an independent sort of person and I knew I could handle it. Driving is painful. Everything is painful, but I deal with it. I drove there, had the test, and drove back. It was a long, hard day. It did feel good in its own way. One step closer to an answer. They injected a corticosteroid into the right hip with the test. It felt amazing around day 3. Unfortunately, it made me very aware of how much pain I have in the left hip. <i> I just can't hear the left hip over the screaming pain of the right hip. </i></div>
<br />
Dr. Gombera called me. He said, "You have a substantial bone spur wearing away at the labrum. It's not tearing it neatly, it's wearing it away. You are what I call a 'tweener', you have enough cartilage and you're an athlete so I don't want to take your hip if I don't have to, but you don't qualify for a scope. This will need to be an open surgery. I want you to see Dr. Mathews. He does hip replacements. I need him on your case. If we get in there and I don't think I can significantly reduce your pain, I want the option to replace it." When Dr. Cascio said the words "hip replacement" back in 2015, they sounded like the end of the world. Now, after more and worsening pain, poor quality of life and a cancer scare, I found myself telling Dr. Gombera, "Just replace it. I don't care. Do whatever it takes to get me off of medications and back to my regular life." He slowed me down. He told me we would do what was the absolute best for me. I asked him if I could have both hips done at the same time. He told me I wouldn't be able to handle what they were going to have to do to me in both hips. One at at time.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div style="clear: both;">
<b><u>Saturday, March 4th, 2017</u></b></div>
<div style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKy5EBZgBy1PVv45g2rQuhi1Im5l1J8A2F6is7beD1xIRBBLLv-ewFBtzBOMpoy1DBh9U8Tu96NKsGlrMP9pwyOyezA4IFEyWwz9MUDHufDsDr4nwgSzg0jGytTbd_2E_nbyWnfwcKFJI/s640/blogger-image-14845875.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKy5EBZgBy1PVv45g2rQuhi1Im5l1J8A2F6is7beD1xIRBBLLv-ewFBtzBOMpoy1DBh9U8Tu96NKsGlrMP9pwyOyezA4IFEyWwz9MUDHufDsDr4nwgSzg0jGytTbd_2E_nbyWnfwcKFJI/s320/blogger-image-14845875.jpg" width="240" /></a>We put on The Exygon & Baptist Hospitals Gusher Marathon, Exxpress Mart Half Marathon, and Kinsel Ford 5K. In the same day, we also held the ExxonMobil Heads or Tails Cycling Time Trial and the Roughneck, which is a hybrid strength and fitness event. We spent all day long and all night long on March 3rd hosting packet pick up, registering people, attending to race details and setting up. I went home and slept for 4 hours the night before the race, something I've never done in the 8 years we've held this event. I had to. My hips were only going to take so much punishment. People in the know did their best to keep me from walking. My buddy Christopher drove me around in the Gallagher Family Ranger, while I "race bossed." Then I spent the next 3 days in bed. My hips were toast. </div>
<br />
<br />
<b><u>Wednesday, March 8th, 2017</u></b><br />
I drove myself to Houston again for my first appointment with Dr. Mathews. He asked me a lot of quick questions to assess how well I was handing this decision and if I was making this choice from the right frame of mind. He was satisfied with my answer. I asked him how quickly I could have the left hip done. He said, "Looking at your scans and history tell me that whatever we do to the right hip, we'll do to the left hip and we can do that 2-3 weeks after your first surgery." My first surgery is schedule for March 30th, 2017. I'll have a 4"-6" scar on the front of my hip and thigh. I'll either wake up with my own bone or an entirely new hip. If I wake up with a new hip, technically running is out of my life forever. It's a simple matter of physics with shear force and loading. Right now, no study exists to tell me how much life running will take away from a hip replacement. Even Dr. Mathews, who has a hip replacement, agreed that it might be worth running if a study ever proved it only shortened the lifespan of a replacement by a year or so, but neither of us would be willing to give up five years of hip replacement life. There are a lot of unknowns, but at least there are options. I'm keeping my chin up.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><u>Thursday, March 30th, 2017z</u></b><br />
<b><u>Surgery Day</u></b><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-bsI_uLcLkdYLz1OOBpjHrEIvdyR40-Yshe8Y1lH3PzrjyL1IfYqLnBfHvqad2FWkc_nUmyUsbV-xGI02ijAqzLSwKbxC3i6eJ9qFrGWIWYN7ZJeKT3T8_jA_QNPZ0aO30NPzFI8eX94/s640/blogger-image--1341557555.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTL2H3e4FL3Roil_lmtLyQvawc46Ur0Qk5QKPi5BIxIWd6VHFZnHFoQg0dvQl-vyHoWVF5w8gAaWgdNPd7JMxFWMcOKh1Z6HHQXD8CUXVaP_su57JJfk01qf-s9McVX-GCPF3Q5gfd478/s640/blogger-image--957148691.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTL2H3e4FL3Roil_lmtLyQvawc46Ur0Qk5QKPi5BIxIWd6VHFZnHFoQg0dvQl-vyHoWVF5w8gAaWgdNPd7JMxFWMcOKh1Z6HHQXD8CUXVaP_su57JJfk01qf-s9McVX-GCPF3Q5gfd478/s640/blogger-image--957148691.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJsU7fnVQ2gpaNuPCP_OERXx-CP1zk_iLYX8UtlpHZm29taVCu6rbzhnb73z3Lh45Tv9g4lVDOvjzq2Pr8k8HxJ66igAmil4vq8wERVlXpvupiOq_Jc_cgrShRug2J75NSsPz4bs86aXU/s1600/blogger-image-164652997.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>What a day! I saw a very jovial anesthesiologist (he was so funny about everything); Andrew, Longhorn-crazy nurse anesthetist; Dr. Mathews, whom the entire staff commented is a fantastic surgeon; his Aggie lovin' PA Sarah; Dr.Gombera the nicest, calmest surgeon ever, and all the other people that go along with surge<br />
I feel very confident in my team. Dr. Mathews was <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJsU7fnVQ2gpaNuPCP_OERXx-CP1zk_iLYX8UtlpHZm29taVCu6rbzhnb73z3Lh45Tv9g4lVDOvjzq2Pr8k8HxJ66igAmil4vq8wERVlXpvupiOq_Jc_cgrShRug2J75NSsPz4bs86aXU/s1600/blogger-image-164652997.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJsU7fnVQ2gpaNuPCP_OERXx-CP1zk_iLYX8UtlpHZm29taVCu6rbzhnb73z3Lh45Tv9g4lVDOvjzq2Pr8k8HxJ66igAmil4vq8wERVlXpvupiOq_Jc_cgrShRug2J75NSsPz4bs86aXU/s320/blogger-image-164652997.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a>very clear he is leaning hip replacement. Dr. Gombera was there to do his best to save it if possible. I knew that these two brilliant minds would work together to do the best thing for me. It turned out to be a replacement. I don't have any details yet. Richard said the doctors did not tell him much other than they chose to do a replacement.<br />
I had a hard time with anesthesia. My O2 Sat dropped and my I went into tachycardia. I'm on a pulse ox and oxygen now. Simple enough. Things are looking much better now that I've had a fluid bolus. They had trouble waking me up as well. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-bsI_uLcLkdYLz1OOBpjHrEIvdyR40-Yshe8Y1lH3PzrjyL1IfYqLnBfHvqad2FWkc_nUmyUsbV-xGI02ijAqzLSwKbxC3i6eJ9qFrGWIWYN7ZJeKT3T8_jA_QNPZ0aO30NPzFI8eX94/s640/blogger-image--1341557555.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-bsI_uLcLkdYLz1OOBpjHrEIvdyR40-Yshe8Y1lH3PzrjyL1IfYqLnBfHvqad2FWkc_nUmyUsbV-xGI02ijAqzLSwKbxC3i6eJ9qFrGWIWYN7ZJeKT3T8_jA_QNPZ0aO30NPzFI8eX94/s200/blogger-image--1341557555.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="150" /></a><br />
It was a little crushing to hear my right hip required replacement, but it was also a relief. I remain undecided about how much I will allow myself to do in the running world, but swimming and cycling should be fine. Weights too. Even though this is a change, it comes with benefit of improved quality of life. I'm okay with that.<br />
<br />
Richard has been an excellent help. He kept me flowing in ice cream once the horrendous nausea abated. I shared my ribeye with him, and he has been enjoying the snack bag our friend Christi made for him. It's been a long day, but he's not complained even once. It's times like these that I know he loves me. He's not a man of words. He cares for me the way he believes I need it th<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTL2H3e4FL3Roil_lmtLyQvawc46Ur0Qk5QKPi5BIxIWd6VHFZnHFoQg0dvQl-vyHoWVF5w8gAaWgdNPd7JMxFWMcOKh1Z6HHQXD8CUXVaP_su57JJfk01qf-s9McVX-GCPF3Q5gfd478/s640/blogger-image--957148691.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTL2H3e4FL3Roil_lmtLyQvawc46Ur0Qk5QKPi5BIxIWd6VHFZnHFoQg0dvQl-vyHoWVF5w8gAaWgdNPd7JMxFWMcOKh1Z6HHQXD8CUXVaP_su57JJfk01qf-s9McVX-GCPF3Q5gfd478/s200/blogger-image--957148691.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="150" /></a>e most. He shows love rather than talk about it. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8yh6sMdZT5XGb7Lq8Tvi_TwMvt0iAylnNK2ANoNGKAtuwb5IKTr9tbt_XjkQ7Pt_HTrIo4RES2FKNSDqasQeE40eCrlYZTwebMXGzKBhukiCNiLWm1im4smLhp0nsBcMP8OHm4tJBirg/s640/blogger-image-928999272.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>Physical therapy came into the room, once I was able to awaken enough to notice. They helped me ambulate around the room with a walker. I wanted to go out into the hallway and work harder, but PT nixed that. She said I'm not ready. Oh, I am ready! I even brought my pretty Brooks running shoes and wore my Garmin so I can track my workouts. HA-HA!<br />
<br />
I have well-controlled pain and this actually feels a much better than the constant razor blades agony that I was experiencing. I'm grateful. The left side hurts too and the latest news is that we will replace it in 3-6 weeks now, depending on how well I recover and when the surgery schedule allows me a slot.<br />
<br />
But the cherry on the top of the day was when the nights<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8yh6sMdZT5XGb7Lq8Tvi_TwMvt0iAylnNK2ANoNGKAtuwb5IKTr9tbt_XjkQ7Pt_HTrIo4RES2FKNSDqasQeE40eCrlYZTwebMXGzKBhukiCNiLWm1im4smLhp0nsBcMP8OHm4tJBirg/s640/blogger-image-928999272.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>hi<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8yh6sMdZT5XGb7Lq8Tvi_TwMvt0iAylnNK2ANoNGKAtuwb5IKTr9tbt_XjkQ7Pt_HTrIo4RES2FKNSDqasQeE40eCrlYZTwebMXGzKBhukiCNiLWm1im4smLhp0nsBcMP8OHm4tJBirg/s640/blogger-image-928999272.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8yh6sMdZT5XGb7Lq8Tvi_TwMvt0iAylnNK2ANoNGKAtuwb5IKTr9tbt_XjkQ7Pt_HTrIo4RES2FKNSDqasQeE40eCrlYZTwebMXGzKBhukiCNiLWm1im4smLhp0nsBcMP8OHm4tJBirg/s200/blogger-image-928999272.jpg" width="150" /></a>ft patient care technician Michelle looked at my wristband and said in complete shock, "You're 42-years-old? I thought you were only a few years older than me!"<br />
<br />
"How old are you?" I asked.<br />
<br />
"Me, I'm 25," she replied, having no idea just how much my ego loved it.<br />
<br />
"Oh yeah? Post op, pale, no make up, awful gown, surgical with a drain?"<br />
<br />
Michelle, you are officially my favorite person at this hospital and that is no easy feat. The people here are wonderful! So far, this has been a great experience.<br />
<br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
<br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
<u style="font-weight: bold;">Friday, March 31st, 2017</u><br />
<u style="font-weight: bold;">Post Op Day 1</u><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9LnORN3yV7p2bQEFAnvTzvGWtbFeeq_VsM4XwM_-3jVyde7axRLz_5DOHIdxkt5Wd86W36tGi7Zi3wX-w4lKfTG2roVI9uOPK0-tcAWc6csOb5-qxy8bZDccj5f8Ts4NejjKbyvZ5ef0/s1600/Hospital+fasion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9LnORN3yV7p2bQEFAnvTzvGWtbFeeq_VsM4XwM_-3jVyde7axRLz_5DOHIdxkt5Wd86W36tGi7Zi3wX-w4lKfTG2roVI9uOPK0-tcAWc6csOb5-qxy8bZDccj5f8Ts4NejjKbyvZ5ef0/s1600/Hospital+fasion.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4HGEROkokJ_7CYAMoRyikqjvTbNiX_El1Llwxe756SR2xxbG_UClxSJ3lnCD7RF0CBjavutdP5SddDBOX1NUR3S7g_cQhCuubrEzq8DAhSPvj0GCGLrAVpwgygVAMPvrcO6DS6Tgs36I/s640/blogger-image--1453043429.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4HGEROkokJ_7CYAMoRyikqjvTbNiX_El1Llwxe756SR2xxbG_UClxSJ3lnCD7RF0CBjavutdP5SddDBOX1NUR3S7g_cQhCuubrEzq8DAhSPvj0GCGLrAVpwgygVAMPvrcO6DS6Tgs36I/s320/blogger-image--1453043429.jpg" width="240" /></a><b><u><br /></u></b>It's hard to sleep in a hospital. I had on my big blue JBL headphones to block out ambient noise and lose myself in a podcast to help me deal with the pain. Honestly, they kept me pretty well medicated so I didn't experience a lot of pain. I had great care providers. Tarsha was wonderful, Anna, Heather, and of course my favorite Michelle. She even brought me a piece of party cake in the middle of the night. <br />
<br />
Everyone was very kind. I can't say that enough. I've had plenty of hospital stays and there is definitely a happy overtone to this facility, which makes all of the difference in the world.<br />
<br />
As soon as they sun rose, I was ready to go home. I wasn't discharged, but I had serious plans to get out of there. My sweetheart, Richard, put my running socks and running shoes on my feet because he knew I was anxiously awaiting physical therapy. (I hate to brag, but I think I was valedictorian of PT.) I'm allowed to go home and do PT on my own. If anything, they kept telling me to take it easy. Dr. Mathews even gave me cautionary tales to keep me mostly in the bed for the next two weeks. I am beginning go suspect his read my blog and knows I'm ridiculously hard-headed or that I'm not his first athlete. Probably, the second reason. :-)<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVfLSHhNSQupx2h53anVmFCDH0XGiibZc5_Lzg-yw7IQKhe7bL1nlragl1g-GZDubqqhvpvlIoIrhD09ya0o7iaCP8gFIutsKNZInPLwYlc-Zo379Faf4HG4mbMVmf_Skb5Ll9NAisHls/s640/blogger-image--2075150003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVfLSHhNSQupx2h53anVmFCDH0XGiibZc5_Lzg-yw7IQKhe7bL1nlragl1g-GZDubqqhvpvlIoIrhD09ya0o7iaCP8gFIutsKNZInPLwYlc-Zo379Faf4HG4mbMVmf_Skb5Ll9NAisHls/s320/blogger-image--2075150003.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Dr. Gombera did come into my room to see me. He explained that they possibly could have saved my hip and given me a few more years, but I would find myself back in this same spot and they felt it wasn't the best for me. I completely like Dr. G. He's probably not even technically on my case anymore, but he came to see me all the same.<br />
<br />
Dr. Mathews came in and told me I have the latest and greatest in hip replacements that he feels provide longevity without complications. I have a ceramic, titanium device with the latest polymer for cartilage. I can live with that. Dr. Mathews has a hip replacement himself. You wouldn't think it is such a big deal but it is. It's comforting to hear from the voice of experience. They did reduce my substantial bone spur. There was no getting around that, even with replacement.<br />
<br />
I have to schedule a two-week follow up visit with him and at that time, we set the date for the left side. I'm not dreading it nearly as much now. This isn't easy, but it's surprisingly easier than my previous hip scopes. I hope it stays this way. It took me a long time to mentally be ready to lose my own hips. I mean, I grew those myself. We've covered a lot of ground together. I would have kept them and framed them if they would have let me. But at the same time I'm glad to see them gone. None of us are guaranteed even the next day. I'd prefer to get as much out of life as I can and it simply wasn't happening with my own hips in place. <br />
One down, one to go!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
</div>
<b></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b></b></div>
<b><u><br /></u></b><u style="font-weight: bold;">Tuesday, April 1st, 2017</u><br />
<u style="font-weight: bold;">Post Op Day 5</u><br />
<u style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></u>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX9J5OQNpAWTDSAIXs63lfoLTmX1QlJOJitduBxCyYpBoSsvXlx9hDDKpEkmCACBFS5ftX303kF68MCrLb58hx1qbTGZEORYABi6pqhkMBj5bdMTTZZubimlLund6SdhZWLYcG1d-M7-k/s640/blogger-image--800268094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX9J5OQNpAWTDSAIXs63lfoLTmX1QlJOJitduBxCyYpBoSsvXlx9hDDKpEkmCACBFS5ftX303kF68MCrLb58hx1qbTGZEORYABi6pqhkMBj5bdMTTZZubimlLund6SdhZWLYcG1d-M7-k/s320/blogger-image--800268094.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Yesterday was a very rough day. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I woke up around 4AM and went downstairs to eat a little something leaving Richard asleep upstairs. The next thing I knew, I was very ill. Luckily, Richard heard me and came running to help. He cleaned everything up and put me in the shower. The rest of the day was spent eating very little, except some banana nut bread my friend Jody made us. For some reason I'm craving it and cannot get enough. By the afternoon, I was under control enough that my friend Christina was able to stop by. She brought me some mascara, real woman mascara-an absolute indulgence. I was delighted. I was mostly delighted to spend a little time with her. Diesel was even more so. He thinks all company is for him. He's probably right. He is pretty cute. I made it through the day and slept 12.5 hours that night.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwaKss6nH2FQbEst0YOTaBWU2Jwkt5CMnPb2aSBcqmBSExjCUtRkw0VEjYzomQhVvz6wwBNimPID-LnOu-eXkqcZgZ8urvSLMLiNroR0KzvSKHGGl7I_VDkajM06zT6KyojQAMSvA42U/s640/blogger-image-1425827331.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwaKss6nH2FQbEst0YOTaBWU2Jwkt5CMnPb2aSBcqmBSExjCUtRkw0VEjYzomQhVvz6wwBNimPID-LnOu-eXkqcZgZ8urvSLMLiNroR0KzvSKHGGl7I_VDkajM06zT6KyojQAMSvA42U/s320/blogger-image-1425827331.jpg" width="240" /></a>I woke up in much better spirits today. Some of the swelling is starting to go down in my leg and I think my incision is top notch! I can see this healing very well. My doctor is not requiring I go to physical therapy. I don't think he has any doubts I will aggressively, but intelligently rehab at home. I do have some wonderful physical therapy friends that will keep me in line if I need it. <br />
<br />
Someone did ask Richard today if I'll weigh more now that my hip is made of titanium, ceramic and a high grade polymer. He refrained from saying, "No, but she might end up weighing more from all the banana nut bread!" :-) (J/K- He didn't even think that much less say it, but I did and it is pretty funny.)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTL2H3e4FL3Roil_lmtLyQvawc46Ur0Qk5QKPi5BIxIWd6VHFZnHFoQg0dvQl-vyHoWVF5w8gAaWgdNPd7JMxFWMcOKh1Z6HHQXD8CUXVaP_su57JJfk01qf-s9McVX-GCPF3Q5gfd478/s640/blogger-image--957148691.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCulrMEF2zdYi-N-BjGvas_0CnpJcj9LrHziGjoIlYYDvzHK8ADBk3MCXRswRZKcTCR-buFFH6MiLx1SGVnGFKTVWfZ2XMkLIxw_bYDIuAVhpMDzaqflnyMzM84iSc12xSF9FDUYLyAbw/s640/blogger-image-1016720456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCulrMEF2zdYi-N-BjGvas_0CnpJcj9LrHziGjoIlYYDvzHK8ADBk3MCXRswRZKcTCR-buFFH6MiLx1SGVnGFKTVWfZ2XMkLIxw_bYDIuAVhpMDzaqflnyMzM84iSc12xSF9FDUYLyAbw/s640/blogger-image-1016720456.jpg" /></a><u style="font-weight: bold;">Wednesday April 2nd, 2017</u><br />
<u style="font-weight: bold;">Post Op Day 6</u><br />
<br />
Aspirin, even enteric coated, is making me seriously ill. I can't handle the Aspirin which is the substitute for Xarelto. Xarelto is a blood thinner, which with my insurance costs $342. I've refrained from using my blog to discuss problems with health insurance and the medical industry, but consider this more common than uncommon. <i>(Using medical insurance year after year teaches you a lot about protecting yourself and how financially devastating it is to need to use your insurance year after year. I could tell your horror stories, but I'll save it for another blog and another day.)</i><br />
<br />
My current plan is to take fish oil three times a day since it is a fairly effective blood thinner and ambulate as much as my body can tolerate. It's a beautiful day in Southeast Texas. so I laced up my shoes, gathered up my husband, and let my dog take me for a walk.<br />
<br />
<br />
Just when I was feeling like the toughest son of a gun on the block with my dog and my walker, my neighbor Danny came out. Danny is visually impaired and a huge fan of Diesel. I teased Danny about stealing my healing thunder as he came over to love on the dog. I was a little fatigued and my energy rapidly evaporated as I stood there, but I am so glad I did.<br />
<br />
<i>It was a breathtaking moment.</i> If this picture isn't love I don't know what is. It reminds me that in the middle of recovery, the battle to improve health and fitness in our community-which hasn't been easy, the struggles of chronic health issues and the horrors of medical insurance year after year after year, this exists. No matter what else happens in life,<b><i> this exists</i></b>; and love is far more powerful than any other force in the world.<br />
<b><u><br /></u></b>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4EGnc9wDpHzUEqFzEY2Tp1XZ3rimo95JhIXBkKqhBKHZ383MUAJ9nb0ND3msCw6lfmr-6ZqnooB4rXOSwSn9gfmJ09-nOaSKH_FInr0wRV-jmSiwqLzVEp6XJOF8gYkE7hJpIHcltAV0/s640/blogger-image--502585061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4EGnc9wDpHzUEqFzEY2Tp1XZ3rimo95JhIXBkKqhBKHZ383MUAJ9nb0ND3msCw6lfmr-6ZqnooB4rXOSwSn9gfmJ09-nOaSKH_FInr0wRV-jmSiwqLzVEp6XJOF8gYkE7hJpIHcltAV0/s640/blogger-image--502585061.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b><u>Wednesday, April 12th, 2017</u></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b><u>Post Op Day 13</u></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Today is my 2 week follow up appointment with Dr. Mathews at the Fondren Clinic and I am excited. It is also my first time to be in a car since surgery. It's a bit of a drive to Houston and I was hoping I would handle it well. I did for the most part. I had a little car sickness, but nothing terrible. For the most part, it was kind of great to get out of the house. (<i>You know it's time to get out of the house when going to the doctor sounds like fun</i>. :-))</div>
<div>
</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBfseuZBkbq8mgOk5M7nhIoL8ofoA7hq2u05xqUf8avsx7gyMY3Lv22zSAKXsm-kYqXB8BE-guvC5c8HTTQEzdVvbUZro_hJt1Svc7rBdqZyXYadXZ9sC4-Cb-0fbkExqibkAvJ8yySUU/s640/blogger-image-1178907469.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBfseuZBkbq8mgOk5M7nhIoL8ofoA7hq2u05xqUf8avsx7gyMY3Lv22zSAKXsm-kYqXB8BE-guvC5c8HTTQEzdVvbUZro_hJt1Svc7rBdqZyXYadXZ9sC4-Cb-0fbkExqibkAvJ8yySUU/s640/blogger-image-1178907469.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBfseuZBkbq8mgOk5M7nhIoL8ofoA7hq2u05xqUf8avsx7gyMY3Lv22zSAKXsm-kYqXB8BE-guvC5c8HTTQEzdVvbUZro_hJt1Svc7rBdqZyXYadXZ9sC4-Cb-0fbkExqibkAvJ8yySUU/s1600/blogger-image-1178907469.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBfseuZBkbq8mgOk5M7nhIoL8ofoA7hq2u05xqUf8avsx7gyMY3Lv22zSAKXsm-kYqXB8BE-guvC5c8HTTQEzdVvbUZro_hJt1Svc7rBdqZyXYadXZ9sC4-Cb-0fbkExqibkAvJ8yySUU/s400/blogger-image-1178907469.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHT5p_EyHyyu5bp1DSec4OfIuVJOoMykC3dCQgjyzY004zpfQvrnHNK23Avj-zISF5j3skKPhn-AVWKqMrfxN2OAY6zr8Zvg-1VQLd8HFR8cqxdNpCQkes70j3PFKiOpYD4qNX-oeWZ7Q/s640/blogger-image--1222205853.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHT5p_EyHyyu5bp1DSec4OfIuVJOoMykC3dCQgjyzY004zpfQvrnHNK23Avj-zISF5j3skKPhn-AVWKqMrfxN2OAY6zr8Zvg-1VQLd8HFR8cqxdNpCQkes70j3PFKiOpYD4qNX-oeWZ7Q/s400/blogger-image--1222205853.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
They X-rayed my hip again and then Sarah, my favorite PA, came in to see me. She's a whirlwind of efficiency and I can't help but get caught up in her energy and enjoy seeing her every time. She took a moment to compliment me on my "huge quads" she noticed in surgery. <br />
<br />
It was nice. It also made me that much more determined to get back to being the mediocre athlete I love to be, as I mumbled something about them being much stronger in the past. My mind flashed to the day before surgery when I scraped the crumbling 50 mile sticker off of my car. No more ultras for me.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the legs I have, but sometimes I can tell the difference in how they've changed since I can't be as active and it's hard. My mind wants us to be the same person we used to be. I suppose I'll have this battle with myself for the rest of my life now. <br />
<br />
She sympathized with my desire to run, but reminded me it is basically off limits. I was honest and told her I didn't know if I would be able to completely refrain, but I did promise her my attempts at running would be greatly reduced and wouldn't even begin until I've given my body 6 solid months of healing. She smiled. She's not approving my ideas, but she gets it. She knows quality of life is important. <br />
<br />
Then Dr. Mathews came in and showed me my chewed up femoral head. It was actually <i>GREAT </i>to see. It took away any doubts I had about the procedure. It solidified and validated my years of pain. <i>Maybe I shouldn't need that, but being a distance athlete involves a lot of mentally overriding pain.</i> I should be stronger, it can't be that bad, etc. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhSD_QJaQFmPUsxeKDhWDtajAAl6_o_o3t_D7JwDBNBzOygMzxojKTo3H88psCzVqlC-1LDBdI2sE66WgqkXYw9OnK9IuwwcvhBGEH1ovVfewAYBYgpz65YYEs4tGHVzjmu5F0__iAiQ/s640/blogger-image--1271653394.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKhSD_QJaQFmPUsxeKDhWDtajAAl6_o_o3t_D7JwDBNBzOygMzxojKTo3H88psCzVqlC-1LDBdI2sE66WgqkXYw9OnK9IuwwcvhBGEH1ovVfewAYBYgpz65YYEs4tGHVzjmu5F0__iAiQ/s320/blogger-image--1271653394.jpg" width="179" /></a><b>The confirmation made me proud of what I <i>have</i> accomplished. I've done all kinds of things like 100 mile cycling rides, a marathon, a few triathlons, one half IM swim, three ultra runs-the last one I DNF'd (did not finish) at 34 miles with hip pain. (HA!) I did all of that with endometriosis, hypothyroidism, ovarian cysts, and a couple of bum hips. Maybe I'm stronger than I think.<br /> </b><br />
I'm not quitting. I'm definitely not giving up. I'll adapt and be happy. My new hip is titanium with a pink ceramic head. PINK! I love it. I'm grateful for it. I can't wait to see what we can do. But before I get to fire up, I have one more hip replacement surgery schedule on April 27th. I'm almost there. <br />
<br />
The sacrifice is real, but the gratitude is bigger. I'm thankful for a strong surgical team. I'm thankful for a future. <br />
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<b><u><br /></u></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03255773212805645881noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1542817536741934994.post-71170500049145326602015-09-03T20:12:00.002-07:002015-09-03T20:14:38.770-07:00Anthony Quinn: Running On Soul<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; font-variant: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>I <strike>wrote </strike> compiled this article for the Southeast Texas Eventsbook in May of 2014 when Shelly Vitanza was kind enough to let me pretend to be a writer. The article is comprised of a candid diary written by Anthony's mother juxtapositioned against Anthony's answers about his life. The story speaks for itself.</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">
</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-large; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">
Anthony Quinn: Running on Soul</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0C2lRTvk8pdVtyBWxYkUqpFLDR1ZTOU3XFfqRpGP28qUgVZ2xb_LdFr9t1EwSSSr_d0J17jNsB5vtnPG8xSj608oHU9eVmRPEnAWPSttzkz85XIQKSv78DprWhI1LLX81ZVFG0HITKwI/s1600/2843_89077100489_2256661_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0C2lRTvk8pdVtyBWxYkUqpFLDR1ZTOU3XFfqRpGP28qUgVZ2xb_LdFr9t1EwSSSr_d0J17jNsB5vtnPG8xSj608oHU9eVmRPEnAWPSttzkz85XIQKSv78DprWhI1LLX81ZVFG0HITKwI/s320/2843_89077100489_2256661_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anthony and his wonderful mother</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Excerpt from Tony’s mother, Deborah Quinn’s Facebook note “G-d’s Voice”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My father was dying. He had bone cancer. </span><b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Several </span></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">days passed. It was a quiet afternoon with Mark at work and Jared at school. Tony had been napping in his crib and was just waking up. I gathered him up, blankets and all, and laid him in my bed. I happened to think about a scar near his right eye. I wondered if the scar was still there. As my finger passed over the scar it was The Father’s voice I heard. Not audibly, but as clear as any voice I have ever heard. He said, “Only a mother’s love could find that scar.” </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i> I never would have dreamed the storm that would shortly come.</i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="font-style: italic; white-space: pre;"> </span><i>The things He told me, and taught me, were to become an anchor. The lesson on that quiet afternoon would serve me well. </i></span><br />
<div style="font-style: italic;">
<br /></div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">How long have you been running?</span></i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">The 2013 Alamo City Run Fest in San Antonio Texas was my first competitive run. They have an amputee division in that event and I finished fourth overall. I wanted to return this year and win gold.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3636363636363635; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: large; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> “LET ME HEAR FROM YOU, LORD”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXeL1m7sCXlPPf9TJTd-hc3uIVVlsnbod0mYe2BpPXNFFnAKJI7S0xaoIIDd5DVNXXNfVGvynG4agQ_BkFgR19qqch2BSNsiiqileDYF735Lnk2DU3dWNMW-RrhK0rK-roEJEZlIBaStg/s1600/10537199_10201608637297872_4204477395675187248_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXeL1m7sCXlPPf9TJTd-hc3uIVVlsnbod0mYe2BpPXNFFnAKJI7S0xaoIIDd5DVNXXNfVGvynG4agQ_BkFgR19qqch2BSNsiiqileDYF735Lnk2DU3dWNMW-RrhK0rK-roEJEZlIBaStg/s320/10537199_10201608637297872_4204477395675187248_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Preparing to run Pleasure Island Bridge Half Marathon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> was the only prayer I could pray. I felt sure that the doctors were about to tell us Tony had cancer. But what they couldn’t tell me was the thing I most wanted to know. “Would my baby live?”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How old are you, where are you from? Which sports do you pla</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">y?</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">I'm 27 and was born and raised in Mauriceville, Texas.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Any sport a boy could possibly get involved in growing up in Southeast Texas. My main sport would have to be basketball. My older brother, Jared, was always a star. He helped win the 20-4A District Championship for LC-M in 1998. I’ve always tried to be as good as he is.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguKcWU7emrM-TqPqV2i3h29x_bPeOv181f3NnzFoeQmCXF_EMJfGjHJAz2NXnEE-dP1XOaFMULgZli5sMkIFx4jSANQ4bswyR15JGq4tZgRHdFq4yOUNVb5dqEjScciLRermnInlrB-1s/s1600/1780226_10152238450635490_1881999154_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguKcWU7emrM-TqPqV2i3h29x_bPeOv181f3NnzFoeQmCXF_EMJfGjHJAz2NXnEE-dP1XOaFMULgZli5sMkIFx4jSANQ4bswyR15JGq4tZgRHdFq4yOUNVb5dqEjScciLRermnInlrB-1s/s320/1780226_10152238450635490_1881999154_o.jpg" width="212" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Everyone</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> always asks how we discovered that Tony had cancer. In Tony's case it was discovered after an injury. He and Jared had been wrestling on the couch and Tony bumped his ankle against the coffee table. The next day he was still wincing when I put on his shoe. He started limping. I made an appointment for the following day with our pediatrician. The afternoon of the appointment he fell while he was walking across the lawn. He never cried that I remember, but he couldn’t support his weight. His leg was x-rayed. We were told the leg was broken, and that the x-ray showed a tumor- most probably benign, right above his left ankle.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We were sent for a biopsy, which was inconclusive. The cells they found were different from anything any of the doctors had ever seen. We were then sent to M. D. Anderson Hospital in Houston.</span></div>
<i style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></i>
<i style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">How did you lose your leg?</span></i><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was diagnosed with Osteosarcoma when I was three and had my amputation some time around my fourth birthday at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3636363636363635; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-cb22c1dd-3e4e-8aba-6982-f6ff2e6d091c" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3636363636363635; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>TAKE THE LEG, SAVE THE CHILD"</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3636363636363635; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">room was very long, cold. Mark and I walked across the recovery room to see our son. I don’t remember seeing another stretcher in this massive place. I suppose they were trying to give us some privacy. Tony was still sleeping from the anesthesia. He was pale, but breathing. I looked down and saw how the sheet fell away past Tony’s left knee. Saw the place empty where his ankle and foot should have been. The amputation was over. We made it through the day with the help of our friends and family. And by the strength we took from Tony’s doctor, Dr. Jaffe. We loved, and love, this man dearly. He found us often during the course of that day. He would look at us and say, “Courage my friends, courage.” Just seeing him put steel in our spines. </span></i></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Tell me about physical therapy.</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Most of my memories of that time, and that's not saying a whole lot since I was three, had to do with being sick from chemo and not so much about physical therapy. Since then, however, I have had a few revision surgeries on the bone due to growth and can speak more on that. I get a lot of questions about phantom pain but I don’t really remember it being that big of an issue for me. I remember feeling like my 'foot' itching once after surgery but that's all I can recall on the matter. One of the most frustrating parts of being an amputee in the beginning is forgetting you're missing a leg. I remember falling several times getting out of bed because I forgot I had to put on my prosthesis first. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Landing on the end of your amputated tibia HURTS!</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1YsuC8fAgo3qW96Jg4qT-ERiaL8qYNc8MFCO7Yc_VuDIYrpxfXvHNO-E-F1zMcUGos3aABkPDyZrckNwydyKoeLLnRn_1xZOjvDU8PBT4gCflZgShddAkxxaNwcWvFmgTMoIMa1ypYlE/s1600/10616371_613291268781706_3906967221355979839_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1YsuC8fAgo3qW96Jg4qT-ERiaL8qYNc8MFCO7Yc_VuDIYrpxfXvHNO-E-F1zMcUGos3aABkPDyZrckNwydyKoeLLnRn_1xZOjvDU8PBT4gCflZgShddAkxxaNwcWvFmgTMoIMa1ypYlE/s320/10616371_613291268781706_3906967221355979839_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anthony charging up the bridge </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As far as physical therapy, a very important thing that I was to do was help restore the nerves or 'feeling' to my leg. I remember this involved rubbing a towel on the distal end of my leg as if to dry. This practice was initially painfu, but eventually the nerves were restored. Standing up straight was also initially very painful because of all the blood going down into the limb. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Crutches were a bit of a struggle for me. Primarily because I had to stand up straight to start, which, as stated was painful. Then I had to learn how to operate them. As it turns out walking on crutches with a missing leg is MUCH different. Also, there is a science to going up and down stairs on crutches and if you get the procedure wrong, well, good luck. The rest that I can remember in regards to physical therapy were basic leg strengthening exercises, balancing on those giant globe things, etc. etc. I am eternally grateful for the nurses, doctors and physical therapists at M.D. Anderson for their love and support during those times.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3636363636363635; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq24k-qTprVfmaBgDkyia60IfnXYfvWqM-Uqz4RGGvCy2mImJeqcjbEGM9h8TyHOuiSPt9PNu2U57sDRYqGqobv7Fz_uD1onWhYCEHCbWIBt5m0-dvRDJAAqIIjF2Z7Zs0G8-MORBUwrI/s1600/11219618_10203108003621093_7298678541098210190_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq24k-qTprVfmaBgDkyia60IfnXYfvWqM-Uqz4RGGvCy2mImJeqcjbEGM9h8TyHOuiSPt9PNu2U57sDRYqGqobv7Fz_uD1onWhYCEHCbWIBt5m0-dvRDJAAqIIjF2Z7Zs0G8-MORBUwrI/s1600/11219618_10203108003621093_7298678541098210190_n.jpg" /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><i><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></i></b></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3636363636363635; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The day after the amputation would mean getting Tony out of bed and having him walk on crutches. It was going to be horrible. I knew it. I also knew that I would have to be the bad guy. And I knew he would fall. It was as imagined, horrible. I was tough, Tony was in pain and so tiny. Four-year-olds should not be on crutches. And he did fall. And he was so angry. Angry at me…for making him try. And I was so angry with me. I didn’t feel strong enough to do this. Later that day, while Tony was sleeping and everyone else was gone, I sat in the window crying…angry crying…angry at everything and everybody. And most especially, angry with God.</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3636363636363635; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3636363636363635; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYpbGqT8JewQa2m7hpcoA5mVs6yBJ9mObYUO3xtYTc_9-hy5CsGj8KYuRBBpli81UuIv-__YZB1Y96lBn9kMCQ4knK5oL3YrQJHkaPnO0-xvde0IyJvMRP42mzrV78_cpZjiuqcqQ6GPc/s1600/10624901_10152766240540490_5739218045426411478_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYpbGqT8JewQa2m7hpcoA5mVs6yBJ9mObYUO3xtYTc_9-hy5CsGj8KYuRBBpli81UuIv-__YZB1Y96lBn9kMCQ4knK5oL3YrQJHkaPnO0-xvde0IyJvMRP42mzrV78_cpZjiuqcqQ6GPc/s200/10624901_10152766240540490_5739218045426411478_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anthony and his father</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: purple;">Who handled your life change the best?
</span></span></span></i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Good question. Probably me as I am sure it was an emotional thing for my parents to go through. I try to point out that because I was such a young age and don't remember too much that my whole experience with cancer, chemotherapy and recovery is really my parent's story. </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3636363636363635; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">I </span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">remember the colors, the children, and the parents. I remember calling a friend, and being amazed that you could reach home by phone from this place. It felt absolutely subterranean. As if we’d crossed time zones and continents. I was appalled at the brutality of this disease. I can’t tell you how terrified I was, and we had barely crossed the threshold. The house was a beehive…. activity everywhere. Their bravery did not escape me. Here were people cooking, laughing, playing, and talking. It was as if children with disfigurements and IVs and wheelchairs and vomiting were all normal. As if children dying were as common as a seashell lying in the sand. </span></i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3636363636363635; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>What’s your deepest, darkest secret about how this has changed your life?</i></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1t48CrdvVsKmG4DHWeQ31hW3ij9N1J06F6LYaKkC_KFcCQGJmaP7zhOSdVqAdQGjToRa9kJ2IrDxt_RRLmV4RZcVT74N2IRTg_tPEInMLRz245x1949T4NUScZ_RArIjDAM28hyphenhyphenAlD9s/s1600/11393521_10202735783595825_872515625623259128_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1t48CrdvVsKmG4DHWeQ31hW3ij9N1J06F6LYaKkC_KFcCQGJmaP7zhOSdVqAdQGjToRa9kJ2IrDxt_RRLmV4RZcVT74N2IRTg_tPEInMLRz245x1949T4NUScZ_RArIjDAM28hyphenhyphenAlD9s/s320/11393521_10202735783595825_872515625623259128_o.jpg" width="243" /></a></i></span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">I want to compete in the Paralympics, now. I want to win gold for the U.S. in both summer and winter Paralympics.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i> I remember a nurse coming in to tell us that they needed one more blood test. I fell apart on the inside. Tony was sitting on my lap while the phlebotomist drew the lab. Tears were beginning to stream down my face, and Tony saw them. After the blood sample was collected, Tony reached in the box and picked up a plastic flower finger ring. “Here Mommy, for you” ...followed by a very sweet fish kiss. This was the first glimpse at the strength and courage that God continues to pour into Tony’s heart.</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4mvW235VctEnJJ1TTfBnXXFKQoJT8FCN3TrclfdnvfKIutitQNlSmuKwWKbHBif8TEhH4ilMENcLc3vokJo93-eosfBbhqb8BoFMJDUWk0k1J3QWKc6jG1WIxPDwIykGVuQvA0Y1ClsM/s1600/11907178_10203108004221108_1651253309885182002_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4mvW235VctEnJJ1TTfBnXXFKQoJT8FCN3TrclfdnvfKIutitQNlSmuKwWKbHBif8TEhH4ilMENcLc3vokJo93-eosfBbhqb8BoFMJDUWk0k1J3QWKc6jG1WIxPDwIykGVuQvA0Y1ClsM/s320/11907178_10203108004221108_1651253309885182002_o.jpg" width="218" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>When did you decide to live as fully as you can?</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That question reminds me of that quote by William Wilberforce, </span><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>"We were too young to know certain things are impossible... So we will do them, anyway."</b></span><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> That's probably true in my case in that I was too young to know I was at any disadvantage whatsoever. I was always willing and able to participate in sports and be active. I was able to be active in large part because of Tom LeTourneau of LeTourneau's Prosthetics in Beaumont. He has given me the tools I need to continue to be active and confident in life. There aren't enough words that can express my gratitude for what Mr. LeTourneau has done for me over the years.</span><br />
<i style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 1.36363636363636;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What was the most painful part of all of thi</span><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">s?</span></i></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3636363636363635; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">Probably, the most painful part was the chemotherapy and being sick all the time. I remember throwing up a lot and having to deal with a pretty chest catheter. After I wasn't sick I was finally able to move on.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdTUkncq4_CfRwC5osnP1tt_HzZ_vY4Rgsy33-mx1doDuYmn_ajIA6Tvx_J785FRv2GLBxNTeGxg2qchUehAdWpuhl_EnLKdDIua6ElSLXIDy1nqwxXU3z5waNKHyF3kgyjEdxsC8nbD4/s1600/11951571_10203108004621118_6032208912690292608_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdTUkncq4_CfRwC5osnP1tt_HzZ_vY4Rgsy33-mx1doDuYmn_ajIA6Tvx_J785FRv2GLBxNTeGxg2qchUehAdWpuhl_EnLKdDIua6ElSLXIDy1nqwxXU3z5waNKHyF3kgyjEdxsC8nbD4/s320/11951571_10203108004621118_6032208912690292608_o.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<i style="line-height: 1.36363636363636;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Day</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">three post-op and I remember wondering what we were in for now. Each day there seemed to be a new test we were expected to take. Sure enough, the nurses announced that today would be the day we would take our child outside the building…something about becoming emotionally adjusted to the reactions of other people. It would prove to be quite an experience. </span></i></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3636363636363635; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i> I saw their reactions as we walked by them. Tony in a wheelchair…Mark pushing, me walking alongside. Lots of whispering, one man cried, most looked away only to look back when they thought we weren’t looking. I was watching. Lots of pity. I hated it.</i></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i> </i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuCqAZTLqK3wRvIAZeGd1GNFdL-sanlOUW98b6QGJfWrdahyyH9p2C9gWULGY0wYG5III4lT5-UVT9_zDiFyu8eGRClvYY10WHWua7kFSfZI_yZck4nTLut2Y2cfLvnElUeHupkiccg3w/s1600/11890421_10203108005341136_8866533856183738559_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuCqAZTLqK3wRvIAZeGd1GNFdL-sanlOUW98b6QGJfWrdahyyH9p2C9gWULGY0wYG5III4lT5-UVT9_zDiFyu8eGRClvYY10WHWua7kFSfZI_yZck4nTLut2Y2cfLvnElUeHupkiccg3w/s320/11890421_10203108005341136_8866533856183738559_o.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="background-color: white; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Where do you seek hope?</i></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I'm very fortunate to have been brought up by a large and loving family. We had relatives, friends and church family that were all so helpful to us during that time. I have said many times that because I was so young I was just along for the ride and looked up to my parents and older brother. Now, I have hope that one day I won't need to put on my prosthesis. Meanwhile, my hope is in the many selfless people who are fighting to end cancer and those who are working day in and day out to help those of us who have survived live better lives.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3636363636363635; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><b id="docs-internal-guid-520a9abe-3e4e-d275-491c-bdad75edefa8" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></b></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3636363636363635; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>I was walking behind Tony and Mark when I saw the bird. The bird came round the tree and stood in front of us, cocking his head to one side. We looked only to see that this particular bird was missing a foot and part of his leg. Exactly like Tony. The foot and left leg were missing in the same place as Tony’s.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Tony said, “Mom that bird can’t walk anymore.” The bird hopped within inches of us. Tony was wide eyed. “Mom, can I hop?” “Yes, you can, Tony.” Smile. Huge. The first in a long time. “Mom, but he can’t run and play anymore, huh?” At that, the bird hopped over to some others and they all began flapping their wings. In Tony’s mind, they apparently were running and playing. “He CAN run, and they’re playing with him.”</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3636363636363635; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i> Tony’s still smiling. “Can he fly, mom?” No sooner had he asked, the bird flew, and perched in a branch just over our heads. “He’s flying!” I still was trying to believe we were watching this one legged bird when Mark said “That’s the scripture.”<br class="kix-line-break" />“What?” I asked. “</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3636363636363635; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"></span></i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3636363636363635; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>The scripture, flying, walking and running-it’s the verse from Isaiah.” It was indeed. A four-year-old wouldn’t have understood the scripture had you read it to him. So here, God in His mercy played out the whole drama for him with a one legged bird.</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">H</span><i style="color: purple; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">ow long did it take you to get your blade? How hard was it to learn to use it? </i><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">Because the prosthetics I had always used basically covered any activity, I wanted to do I didn't get my running blade until much later. The running leg that I currently use is the Ossur Flex-Run. It's not quite what the Paralympians use now but it the same type. </span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ae585f9-3e4f-4085-740b-04b18dfe6ca3"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ7vRavNOCTPxzKu6byp5BPjztQ0tpUj-RveERI0bR6jfUAnT805mzd7mBgPY7vs24dHM5rYZ7euK-CuXKjuCy5ibIFUdvovjU5CKN4YN29hIij4QGq4penOnLxMdlpjX1EuC0kHOegXM/s1600/11154853_10202501384495994_2579708244220155843_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ7vRavNOCTPxzKu6byp5BPjztQ0tpUj-RveERI0bR6jfUAnT805mzd7mBgPY7vs24dHM5rYZ7euK-CuXKjuCy5ibIFUdvovjU5CKN4YN29hIij4QGq4penOnLxMdlpjX1EuC0kHOegXM/s400/11154853_10202501384495994_2579708244220155843_o.jpg" width="365" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ae585f9-3e4f-4085-740b-04b18dfe6ca3"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline;">It wasn't until 2013 that I discovered the Texas Regional Paralympics and began using it for competitions. I have to mention Texas Regional Games and Mrs. Wendy Gumbert for opening this amazing opportunity for me to compete in events with fellow amputees. Love you, Mrs. Wendy! Learning to run on one of these blades is extremely scary at first because you have no heel. The normal walking prosthesis that I wear contains features that help with balancing. Motion happens in several planes. A small shift requires the cooperation of a complex network I don’t have in that area of my body. A running blade is made for going in just one direction and to do so really fast. I have to balance my speed and how far forward I lean just or I fall. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ae585f9-3e4f-4085-740b-04b18dfe6ca3"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline;">I have only fallen once so far. Another issue is sweat. Sweat causes your leg to slip inside the prosthesis and if not addressed can come off completely. Dealing with this is important especially when running longer distances like a 5K. What's exciting about my upcoming running events, particularly, the Pleasure Island Bridge race, is that I am expecting a new one later this summer. It will allow me to run more smoothly and of course, faster.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ae585f9-3e4f-4085-740b-04b18dfe6ca3">
<i style="font-family: Arial; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></i></span></span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ae585f9-3e4f-4085-740b-04b18dfe6ca3"><span style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline;"><i>People </i></span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;"><i>always try to add the moral to the end of the story. I suppose it is an attempt to answer “why”. People have said, “See, God allowed that in your life because He knew you were strong enough to handle it.” I think it makes them feel better, as if nothing like this could ever happen to them because God reserves the hard things for the strong. Yet the scripture says God chooses the weak things. It says that we can do all things through Christ. We all ask why. Some are not brave enough to finish the question. The question is “why me? Why mine?” At the root of question is a feeling of self-righteousness. As if bad things happening to me/mine is an affront to my basic good nature as compared to someone else. The more I’ve thought about that question, the less I want to know the answer. Tony has taught me a better question. “Why not me?” You learn that question when you look into the face of a suffering child. “Why not me?”</i> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ae585f9-3e4f-4085-740b-04b18dfe6ca3">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<div style="color: #333333;">
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ae585f9-3e4f-4085-740b-04b18dfe6ca3"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ae585f9-3e4f-4085-740b-04b18dfe6ca3"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikA656eGrKglUSbWMGyguKGvGC2u-bxBUAFrqHmpQEcOP5nXdm388QI4qUuU0wi5sxm4ycmw40O32rdicJWUsZ_mKmlFKHxbpvDFsKDffFZznisYG25aokog-k6AHDKfvEqZiGyrz2IzQ/s1600/11950261_10203108004301110_655801030510746139_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikA656eGrKglUSbWMGyguKGvGC2u-bxBUAFrqHmpQEcOP5nXdm388QI4qUuU0wi5sxm4ycmw40O32rdicJWUsZ_mKmlFKHxbpvDFsKDffFZznisYG25aokog-k6AHDKfvEqZiGyrz2IzQ/s320/11950261_10203108004301110_655801030510746139_o.jpg" width="218" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ae585f9-3e4f-4085-740b-04b18dfe6ca3"><i style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.15;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">How did people react to you after your amputation?</span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ae585f9-3e4f-4085-740b-04b18dfe6ca3">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ae585f9-3e4f-4085-740b-04b18dfe6ca3"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 19px; line-height: 1.15;">I think my fellow classmates in Mrs. Tray's kindergarten class were curious about my situation but as could be expected their attention spans didn't last too long.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ae585f9-3e4f-4085-740b-04b18dfe6ca3">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<div style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px;">
<i style="line-height: 1.15;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Best memories?</span></i></div>
</div>
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ae585f9-3e4f-4085-740b-04b18dfe6ca3">
</span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ae585f9-3e4f-4085-740b-04b18dfe6ca3"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 19px; line-height: 1.15;">During my time playing basketball for Mauriceville Middle School (made the A-Team...that's right) I was able to use an already slipping prosthesis and flop for a foul (like a pro). I suppose it's hard not to call a foul when a player's leg comes off after contact. My happiest moments by far is when I have been in a wheelchair for a long period of time, usually due to revision surgery, and am able to finally take that first step again. It is an amazing feeling.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ae585f9-3e4f-4085-740b-04b18dfe6ca3">
</span></span>
<div dir="ltr" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ae585f9-3e4f-4085-740b-04b18dfe6ca3"><i style="line-height: 1.15;"><span style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></i>
<i style="line-height: 1.15;"><span style="font-weight: bold; vertical-align: baseline;">That </span><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">is the answer I learned. Yes. God remains faithful. I was so angry with Him. I would be ashamed to tell you some of the things I’ve said to Him…accused Him of. </span></i></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-6ae585f9-3e4f-4085-740b-04b18dfe6ca3">
<div dir="ltr" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<i><span style="vertical-align: baseline;">I do believe that the things we experienced were the result of prayer. Keep praying…it inspires a great God to place angels on elevators, weave dreams in the heart of a sleeping child and so much more. God sustains the flight of eagles. He whispers, “Fly, child!” to the small and frail. </span></i></div>
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></i></span><div dir="ltr" style="font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBnDLsGF2jGjYdSV-cAHZhQzk7kbCyRSspv9RDt1Sh1XCKVOIYxImuWXRvKawRtw-xV4edFv_Z9mZ4iER9JekDIYEIAANdwgEvBPqCZXNgvuQch3Ld5tzRv58MDi8_V92RaozOzWH9ly8/s1600/11220757_10203108005781147_8894906169772005966_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBnDLsGF2jGjYdSV-cAHZhQzk7kbCyRSspv9RDt1Sh1XCKVOIYxImuWXRvKawRtw-xV4edFv_Z9mZ4iER9JekDIYEIAANdwgEvBPqCZXNgvuQch3Ld5tzRv58MDi8_V92RaozOzWH9ly8/s400/11220757_10203108005781147_8894906169772005966_o.jpg" width="197" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large; vertical-align: baseline;"><i>Does your blade have a nickname?</i></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 19px; line-height: 1.15;">Nope. When I fall I usually call it a number of things though.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<i style="color: purple; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="line-height: 21.8500003814697px;"><br /></span></i>
<i style="color: purple; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><span style="line-height: 21.8500003814697px;">Talk about technology and its impact on amputee</span><span style="line-height: 21.8500003814697px;">s.</span></i>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 19px; line-height: 1.15;">Technology is allowing not just amputees but individuals with all different kinds of physical disabilities. One of my favorite upcoming technologies is one that will allow certain amputees to feel heat/cold in their hands/arms. We are very fortunate to live in the times we do where technology is really taking off. I think the most important thing for an amputee or physically challenged individual to have is a good attitude. No amount of technology is going to help you if you have no zest for life. Once you make up your mind that you're going to fight through whatever it is that life has thrown at you then you'll be able to appreciate the advancements we've made in technology and comfort.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 19px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKauoGQk-08WqUrPBCnwLPg4KugPpAZ3UlnIx7fplMAabk9jrhrKHTkKEhZdIUv_uheUoV74CqoEEya7fcHM52528stBeOliZnZO6Z8LfRjvx5Cn1eDHEetJeAdAIsL1XlxTTfFvfFGlQ/s1600/10688021_10201608636617855_5410301165832023754_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKauoGQk-08WqUrPBCnwLPg4KugPpAZ3UlnIx7fplMAabk9jrhrKHTkKEhZdIUv_uheUoV74CqoEEya7fcHM52528stBeOliZnZO6Z8LfRjvx5Cn1eDHEetJeAdAIsL1XlxTTfFvfFGlQ/s320/10688021_10201608636617855_5410301165832023754_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.15; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>What is the one thing you want to tell the world about who you are?</i></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; line-height: 1.15; white-space: pre-wrap;">I'm a believer in that whatever trials we go through that God still has a purpose for our lives.</span></span>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="font-family: Arial; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
</div>
<span style="background-color: white; vertical-align: baseline;">
</span></div>
<div>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></i>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;">There are times when He speaks not only to the place where you are, but also to the place He knows you are going. …things that seem to have no bearing at present, but things you must know, must remember on the path that unwinds before you. This God of wonders gives wings even to the obviously broken of us.</span></i></div>
<div>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div>
<i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #333333; font-size: 15px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03255773212805645881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1542817536741934994.post-64911700390641703152015-08-06T18:55:00.001-07:002016-07-16T12:47:15.548-07:00Crutch<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="background-color: yellow;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPOXxSU0Y8EH74AMLzp6lE09utLT_Oh1_3U3TFpUd_zs2gOFhO4qTXqF2VpGMrwTnI2O7U7Tl2hDCnpB7aikGG-ZcxP18flqI-TJWz0VoDNkKamb-MTSSmQC3UMs0lw3-DgTB342NX7ys/s640/blogger-image--1989614179.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="background-color: yellow;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPOXxSU0Y8EH74AMLzp6lE09utLT_Oh1_3U3TFpUd_zs2gOFhO4qTXqF2VpGMrwTnI2O7U7Tl2hDCnpB7aikGG-ZcxP18flqI-TJWz0VoDNkKamb-MTSSmQC3UMs0lw3-DgTB342NX7ys/s640/blogger-image--1989614179.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnPf95CM-RIjm5L59EylfAvaXr-5jlMo8JwdBRxpYUMmj-JvC0VLKkTeL_78nJmwGEDTAG4e4LaF1HS2hwAbht_MqBQXFvtXYD0YQBgk9ms679r7cMUwVbsDuIhNIac0xENeC43hfhBI/s640/blogger-image--956854590.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="background-color: yellow;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnPf95CM-RIjm5L59EylfAvaXr-5jlMo8JwdBRxpYUMmj-JvC0VLKkTeL_78nJmwGEDTAG4e4LaF1HS2hwAbht_MqBQXFvtXYD0YQBgk9ms679r7cMUwVbsDuIhNIac0xENeC43hfhBI/s640/blogger-image--956854590.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKy42EYszXUXUjVVrEDDDDQoTnc-wOhYVTNazYHd7u2_iKgYNlCrJ48xvZwtf_rV1uucwrYB5isL6kiEomQrjV_XJEE6zv15HyycFs49uLN9ZJ6QeKAi9AQfwC4ZKuFiJK5Cp1_R7FlY/s640/blogger-image-1467490029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="background-color: yellow;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKy42EYszXUXUjVVrEDDDDQoTnc-wOhYVTNazYHd7u2_iKgYNlCrJ48xvZwtf_rV1uucwrYB5isL6kiEomQrjV_XJEE6zv15HyycFs49uLN9ZJ6QeKAi9AQfwC4ZKuFiJK5Cp1_R7FlY/s640/blogger-image-1467490029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyu8nqr9Tf3Jk8MuC_lCsnF_MRntkrL5fD2peonxpd2Kb6TkN0sZ1LKtrzLVT2gtSLl8-XBAsq0ah0ZpKIeD_kdUha8ABpDyI6MMxE4TThZOkKLSKl_4t-4yL48UawP3dtM04PVK2yFYY/s640/blogger-image--1252077710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="background-color: yellow;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyu8nqr9Tf3Jk8MuC_lCsnF_MRntkrL5fD2peonxpd2Kb6TkN0sZ1LKtrzLVT2gtSLl8-XBAsq0ah0ZpKIeD_kdUha8ABpDyI6MMxE4TThZOkKLSKl_4t-4yL48UawP3dtM04PVK2yFYY/s640/blogger-image--1252077710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBBiaeJtL8kwCat9BOME4ELdkiGJkj5AdHXOTOKOS0OGZsMi2cgy046eH74uf8B_SdBrlJacVsOj6_-aZePa8o8XzP4FW0GiFqGR-lfyiBmBNQDun6jxF41K4Pps2oypG8ghoVp8P1gMc/s640/blogger-image-1918794716.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="background-color: yellow;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBBiaeJtL8kwCat9BOME4ELdkiGJkj5AdHXOTOKOS0OGZsMi2cgy046eH74uf8B_SdBrlJacVsOj6_-aZePa8o8XzP4FW0GiFqGR-lfyiBmBNQDun6jxF41K4Pps2oypG8ghoVp8P1gMc/s640/blogger-image-1918794716.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieZFXBt__wJUjapLfYiwKZdakv11sHreJEDe3mGidXIKFC6mvdAxCQTRvNV3bLomVVvZPSgDCVdibBNAhnfzGQgvdu1z0dZ-eQOFF1byYcIcTHT3IyQRI_zRXf_XcHGe0zqB9kpkBSk8Y/s640/blogger-image-1300619901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="background-color: yellow;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieZFXBt__wJUjapLfYiwKZdakv11sHreJEDe3mGidXIKFC6mvdAxCQTRvNV3bLomVVvZPSgDCVdibBNAhnfzGQgvdu1z0dZ-eQOFF1byYcIcTHT3IyQRI_zRXf_XcHGe0zqB9kpkBSk8Y/s640/blogger-image-1300619901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"></span></span></b><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR0PWcNLW1BdPtx-hoZUh50PxH5MAtD7Q_xH_S2yj0WNf16hIYM3PkkJXeBgKCGOsAuEk4YbcQvGr-xOnmkRSBFSmUTx0O9-9WmuQ-5VixjSNDdNDxvMr-HSmG5lSQakS3D_TE9d1cIJU/s640/blogger-image--259803454.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR0PWcNLW1BdPtx-hoZUh50PxH5MAtD7Q_xH_S2yj0WNf16hIYM3PkkJXeBgKCGOsAuEk4YbcQvGr-xOnmkRSBFSmUTx0O9-9WmuQ-5VixjSNDdNDxvMr-HSmG5lSQakS3D_TE9d1cIJU/s640/blogger-image--259803454.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>
<br>
<b>7/16/2016-The first surgery is almost a year old now.</b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div>It's bridge running season and we've been even busier than usual. Diesel is going about his usual Sports Society for American Health ambassador running life. I've never met a dog that loves to run or loves runners more. These are his people.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Jg6CeTjk59DyX8O6q0MWI2MhXmYrntXgMozzRCNzUm_Bax21uUrBRyCj3NLfBRnzMn676ywfO5Sp1i_YPfGA3JC_RD2I60ZIGa-ye8D09BcnH7gs2a_rPfX-lTBB6nbqSHpmJ63csAA/s640/blogger-image--914145024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Jg6CeTjk59DyX8O6q0MWI2MhXmYrntXgMozzRCNzUm_Bax21uUrBRyCj3NLfBRnzMn676ywfO5Sp1i_YPfGA3JC_RD2I60ZIGa-ye8D09BcnH7gs2a_rPfX-lTBB6nbqSHpmJ63csAA/s640/blogger-image--914145024.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>My friend Jody and I have learned how to wield chainsaws.</div><div> We're making trophies for an existing event, Roughneck, and for another event we are launching, that I cannot quite announce yet. <i>Ooooh! Titillating you! </i></div><div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiled_7HvEs-BtumIyF70I19_6R8FR585ZsPcw_dgs7cEWc553MsKHWBthyphenhyphenZcRo8RgauRkyxcrP2Lr1Y0oRl8CgLON2X6wa-UtT5LLXkIIrUaHCo11qon5F7FvFSagsh-50gdgaSCyYT-g/s640/blogger-image-2017187050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiled_7HvEs-BtumIyF70I19_6R8FR585ZsPcw_dgs7cEWc553MsKHWBthyphenhyphenZcRo8RgauRkyxcrP2Lr1Y0oRl8CgLON2X6wa-UtT5LLXkIIrUaHCo11qon5F7FvFSagsh-50gdgaSCyYT-g/s640/blogger-image-2017187050.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOwWk8GQrhqVF1N7k2YRKYd7BiY7wjlT8jKL9h_uvBeGJ2-ARciaHBF0fPahw3DApuX9UNrGVSdcV0C17lHsL3YaEe9c1pSkBIV9miIbDDQ22vna0qSCJe7wy1EmdoTL92vFE5E6hV4Rk/s640/blogger-image-258679706.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOwWk8GQrhqVF1N7k2YRKYd7BiY7wjlT8jKL9h_uvBeGJ2-ARciaHBF0fPahw3DApuX9UNrGVSdcV0C17lHsL3YaEe9c1pSkBIV9miIbDDQ22vna0qSCJe7wy1EmdoTL92vFE5E6hV4Rk/s640/blogger-image-258679706.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Meanwhile, my husband Richard, completed his first crossfit competition. He participated in the scaled division.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilg5WLpKltT7IJAFM7e0fJSlJHltdS4KdQ0Ju3Q1zeOMKA1RDhSXkYB3DVkReO-yICvpeGs31K9eVotQF7q8x_30yj4MzdHnHdkILyGxNNH9KtmWzNVnaPIYNyranrK6Wacl3XFYV-TV0/s640/blogger-image--824632125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilg5WLpKltT7IJAFM7e0fJSlJHltdS4KdQ0Ju3Q1zeOMKA1RDhSXkYB3DVkReO-yICvpeGs31K9eVotQF7q8x_30yj4MzdHnHdkILyGxNNH9KtmWzNVnaPIYNyranrK6Wacl3XFYV-TV0/s640/blogger-image--824632125.jpg"></a></div>Then he crawled out of the arena. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkGIGEQBSEf1Ciy5BAzvg1e2BcTnTl_qa2OtFgWVIMr6ffwrpPKJA7l3KEQTL3Iazywe0wwppGdyl-qGkXi92tJFw6AsnL-jvENx0Sva1BX7tIsBVAztctt7Y94uf2R34CjAw8lUfMHU/s640/blogger-image-522987502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLkGIGEQBSEf1Ciy5BAzvg1e2BcTnTl_qa2OtFgWVIMr6ffwrpPKJA7l3KEQTL3Iazywe0wwppGdyl-qGkXi92tJFw6AsnL-jvENx0Sva1BX7tIsBVAztctt7Y94uf2R34CjAw8lUfMHU/s640/blogger-image-522987502.jpg"></a></div></div>He placed 10th, which is pretty great for someone who has had 3 months of crossfit training, and had that time interrupted by a hip flexor tear and a major oral surgery. <i><b>Don't let his look of agony fool you, he had a blast.</b></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm making progress, but still struggling with my hips, primarily my right hip...my problem child to begin with.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> It's frustrating. I probably need another CT scan with contrast, but I cannot afford another $5000 out of pocket, only to have this problem roll into 2017 and have to start over paying another $5000 out of pocket. I requested a scan at my last two 2015 appointments with the orthopedist, but he refused. It gets a little tough during the bad days when I wonder if a different answer would have had a different outcome. But it's not fair to speculate and I will find out eventually.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I have been working on my running form.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> I take advantage of the downhills at the SSAH-Bridge Runners training runs. I did okay last night. Not great, but I got through it. Then today, I kicked a ball for my dog, heard and felt something pop in my right gluteal, and had to lie down on 100+ degree Texas concrete and fry like an egg for a moment until the discomfort let go. </div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="font-weight: bold; clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1oQF8wDbkDRx1iVpvBzciJx-fpW6DBuxnMkDhShYaIDljuDkZh09TFUSy6fdDvqp84lppcb3AcsoGif2Ux-HpmudlsNRJi0u8fAsN6-bW-Ua7_w4ucBy-2QM5BoLp3gqOhM8QKa_Oq4/s640/blogger-image-1043900264.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1oQF8wDbkDRx1iVpvBzciJx-fpW6DBuxnMkDhShYaIDljuDkZh09TFUSy6fdDvqp84lppcb3AcsoGif2Ux-HpmudlsNRJi0u8fAsN6-bW-Ua7_w4ucBy-2QM5BoLp3gqOhM8QKa_Oq4/s640/blogger-image-1043900264.jpg"></a></div>It let go. I got up and went on about life. </div><div><br></div><div>Between running errands and heading to the gym, a man in a white SUV pulled up next to me and signaled for me to roll my window down. Complying, expecting to hear I had a flat tire or had maybe done something accidentally to offend him, I was caught off guard when he smiled and yelled, "50 miles?" He was referring to a very old sticker on the back of my car. When my brain caught up, I smiled and replied, "Yes, sir. All of it on foot." He power pumped his arm out of the window and yelled back, "Way to go!"</div><div><div class="separator" style="font-weight: bold; clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtWUd48YgsA2IDFfoX8T-Pamg5QcRJHZLswZ2AL5RERepqCsZv81f80xI-Sc4qCFYR9VNbwCtMgeH-uKZKdIxCI48jEWMm4-6dw_GjF3jByBdkoaEUh9PK7hdoNKovA658pYYCjSLHF1o/s640/blogger-image-577139922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtWUd48YgsA2IDFfoX8T-Pamg5QcRJHZLswZ2AL5RERepqCsZv81f80xI-Sc4qCFYR9VNbwCtMgeH-uKZKdIxCI48jEWMm4-6dw_GjF3jByBdkoaEUh9PK7hdoNKovA658pYYCjSLHF1o/s640/blogger-image-577139922.jpg"></a></div>It was motivating and crushing all at once. I completely appreciate his acknowledgement and support. I'm grateful for his unintentional reminder that I went for it while my body still could. (I was sick with multiple issues when I did most of my ultra running, road cycling, adventure racing, marathoning, triathlons, body building, etc. That's a story for another day.)</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">But I'd give anything to be that athletic girl again. There are so many things I wanted to do. So many goals now that I may never accomplish.</span></div><div> I'm not ready to say <i>won't </i>ever accomplish. I'm still fighting. Because that's all any of can ever really do, right? Keep fighting. </div>
<div>
<div style="line-height: 18.48px;">
<div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
</div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"><br></span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"><br></span></span></div>
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold;">
<span style="background-color: cyan; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">Start blog in chronological order with the entry below.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<br>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPOXxSU0Y8EH74AMLzp6lE09utLT_Oh1_3U3TFpUd_zs2gOFhO4qTXqF2VpGMrwTnI2O7U7Tl2hDCnpB7aikGG-ZcxP18flqI-TJWz0VoDNkKamb-MTSSmQC3UMs0lw3-DgTB342NX7ys/s1600/blogger-image--1989614179.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPOXxSU0Y8EH74AMLzp6lE09utLT_Oh1_3U3TFpUd_zs2gOFhO4qTXqF2VpGMrwTnI2O7U7Tl2hDCnpB7aikGG-ZcxP18flqI-TJWz0VoDNkKamb-MTSSmQC3UMs0lw3-DgTB342NX7ys/s640/blogger-image--1989614179.jpg"></a><br>
<b>8/5/2015-Hip labrum repair, cam and pincer correction, bone spurs and other extra bone removal, iliopsoas and umbilical hernia repair. Oh yeah, and some piriformis release. Surgery day! </b>Surgery was a breeze. The car ride home was even manageable. I needed to wee a lot. Post op instructions came with orders to sleep in booties velcroed to a foam barrel. It's surprisingly comfortable. Around 2:30am I awoke with an urgent need to tinkle. Rich snoozed heartily on the other end of the sofa. I am not allowed to bend at the hip so there was no way I could reach them and no way I could walk in them. <i>I was trapped in that [insert profanity].</i> I called his name softly, getting louder and louder as panic set it. Here I was trapped in the booty-barrel prison unable to get out of it with a growing urgency to pee and a husband that can sleep through hurricanes. True story. He slept through both Ike and Rita. The situation was dire. After two minutes of loudly screaming his name he finally woke up and managed to get me to the bathroom. Whew! I maintain my status as a continent adult. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
<b>8/6/2015-Post op Day 1. First day of PT </b>(physical therapy). I walked in like a rock star. I was a solid ten out of ten! They could not believe how well I could move. Another lady was also there for PT. Six months ago, she had the same surgery by the same doctor minus the bonus hernia repair. She said she barely moved for four solid weeks. My ability to ambulate was blowing her mind. Talk about stroking my ego. I'm a very competitive healer. I was FEELING GOOD ABOUT MYSELF! Then I went to the bathroom and got toilet paper stuck <br>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidg0JaK9G2ICLof5FzbMkgfMQ6ZRQ1mQZGNvV2rO0ZvyshQO2UwvfjNSnVzvHvBPB0erOaZP4nKYxXJbcymBFPTuxWXC08HuClELHVJVjkzV05FeKzjg4eNHWYcAmVCqBJME4QTUyCxnA/s640/blogger-image--1438303750.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidg0JaK9G2ICLof5FzbMkgfMQ6ZRQ1mQZGNvV2rO0ZvyshQO2UwvfjNSnVzvHvBPB0erOaZP4nKYxXJbcymBFPTuxWXC08HuClELHVJVjkzV05FeKzjg4eNHWYcAmVCqBJME4QTUyCxnA/s320/blogger-image--1438303750.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Right hip</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
in the back of my shorts. I couldn't get it out. I had a paper tail. <i>Oh dear baby Jesus!</i> They had to turn me around and dig it out of my britches. Humiliating. That may have lowered my average.</div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieZFXBt__wJUjapLfYiwKZdakv11sHreJEDe3mGidXIKFC6mvdAxCQTRvNV3bLomVVvZPSgDCVdibBNAhnfzGQgvdu1z0dZ-eQOFF1byYcIcTHT3IyQRI_zRXf_XcHGe0zqB9kpkBSk8Y/s1600/blogger-image-1300619901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieZFXBt__wJUjapLfYiwKZdakv11sHreJEDe3mGidXIKFC6mvdAxCQTRvNV3bLomVVvZPSgDCVdibBNAhnfzGQgvdu1z0dZ-eQOFF1byYcIcTHT3IyQRI_zRXf_XcHGe0zqB9kpkBSk8Y/s320/blogger-image-1300619901.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Richard, adorable husband</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br></div>
<div>
<b>8/7/2015-Post op Day 2.</b> I slept most of the day. Richard is exhausted and slept quite a bit too. Napping is not something he does so this recovery is wearing on him. He's still an angel. Not complaining. He loves me. That only makes me more determined to be as independent as possible and to get him a good night's sleep in our bed. So today while he went to pick up the lovely meal our friends Blair and Charlie Foxworth provided, I crutched my way over and climbed the stairs.<br>
<br>
About halfway up I realized I was committed to the task. If you've ever run long distance you will recognize the feeling. Once you are out on a run, the only way to get back is the way you came. It's actually one of my favorite moments, my favorite thing to feel. It's just me against the world. Against the odds. Against myself. It's the moment my spine goes solid, my heart beats determination and my mind creates a game plan. I know exactly who I am and exactly what I can do. I made it! I looked around the upstairs as if it might have disappeared or radically changed in the two days since I've seen it. Then I crutched my way down the stairs before Richard could come home and catch me in the act. He handles it better if I am successful and tell him later rather than witness whatever shenanigans I might be up to. I didn't do it because I thought I couldn't fail, I could have very easily found myself stuck on the stairs waiting for him to come home, but a fear of failure is no way to go through life. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBBiaeJtL8kwCat9BOME4ELdkiGJkj5AdHXOTOKOS0OGZsMi2cgy046eH74uf8B_SdBrlJacVsOj6_-aZePa8o8XzP4FW0GiFqGR-lfyiBmBNQDun6jxF41K4Pps2oypG8ghoVp8P1gMc/s1600/blogger-image-1918794716.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBBiaeJtL8kwCat9BOME4ELdkiGJkj5AdHXOTOKOS0OGZsMi2cgy046eH74uf8B_SdBrlJacVsOj6_-aZePa8o8XzP4FW0GiFqGR-lfyiBmBNQDun6jxF41K4Pps2oypG8ghoVp8P1gMc/s320/blogger-image-1918794716.jpg" width="185"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A picture of us both wet at a much happier time</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>8/8/2015-Post op Day 3. Shower time! </b>According to my instructions, I can remove all bandages and shower today. I have a bad reaction to most adhesive tape so I scratched all of the bandages off yesterday. My skin is red from the adhesive, but intact. I don't regret it. We knew going into this surgery that I would be unable to flex my hip more than 90 degrees. We don't have a low edged, walk-in shower so we made plans for me to shower outside. Thank goodness this is Texas and it is 100 degrees outside. It worked out even better than expected and without the constraints of shower walls or a tub to contend with, Rich was able to maneuver freely to help me. I had enough privacy that I'm not expecting any nude photos of the experience to show up on the Internet. Mobility is such a luxury. So is shower privacy. Ever tried shaving your armpits underneath a giant, wet T-shirt? I feel like I'd be a good candidate for the next space mission. Someone write NASA.</div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
<b>8/9/2015-Post op Day 4. </b>Pain and fatigue are wearing on me. The hernia repair is more painful than the hip, but the hip makes it harder to sleep. I must sleep on my back with my surgical leg straight and slightly internally rotated, my feet strapped to the foam barrel. I'm a side sleeper so this is tough. I insist Richard leave me alone for an hour or two every day so he can get his workout in. He leaves the dog in charge of my care. <i>Good job, dog.</i></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1P3pm5ARmzaie49DcAzWhdwZzF63mc3aYAJAk153mv604igOz8qnjL3LiQ0bpGxj5-0vPoJJ9oPylqoGCxNZvqfsmzTc4jcoeMJcjx_Y8PerBlBmSYtZieEidk80HJTboIHTDIj9DvqE/s640/blogger-image-1226167366.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1P3pm5ARmzaie49DcAzWhdwZzF63mc3aYAJAk153mv604igOz8qnjL3LiQ0bpGxj5-0vPoJJ9oPylqoGCxNZvqfsmzTc4jcoeMJcjx_Y8PerBlBmSYtZieEidk80HJTboIHTDIj9DvqE/s320/blogger-image-1226167366.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
If everything I have read about the hernia repair is correct, the pain should significantly decrease in the next few days. Once this happens, I plan to crutch around my neighborhood in the ultimate display of power. <br>
<br>
<br></div>
<div>
<b>8/10/2015 Post op Day 5.</b> I decided today was the day I would start to wean myself off of the painkillers. I don't like them and I feel a responsibility to be functional as soon as possible. The world won't stop without me, but I am half of a team in this marriage and it's hard to see my adorable husband<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"> carry all of the weight. </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">It's true, but also self-imposed and </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">ridiculous. I know it. I still struggle with it. </span></span></div>
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnPf95CM-RIjm5L59EylfAvaXr-5jlMo8JwdBRxpYUMmj-JvC0VLKkTeL_78nJmwGEDTAG4e4LaF1HS2hwAbht_MqBQXFvtXYD0YQBgk9ms679r7cMUwVbsDuIhNIac0xENeC43hfhBI/s1600/blogger-image--956854590.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnPf95CM-RIjm5L59EylfAvaXr-5jlMo8JwdBRxpYUMmj-JvC0VLKkTeL_78nJmwGEDTAG4e4LaF1HS2hwAbht_MqBQXFvtXYD0YQBgk9ms679r7cMUwVbsDuIhNIac0xENeC43hfhBI/s200/blogger-image--956854590.jpg" width="200"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adorable husband</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyu8nqr9Tf3Jk8MuC_lCsnF_MRntkrL5fD2peonxpd2Kb6TkN0sZ1LKtrzLVT2gtSLl8-XBAsq0ah0ZpKIeD_kdUha8ABpDyI6MMxE4TThZOkKLSKl_4t-4yL48UawP3dtM04PVK2yFYY/s1600/blogger-image--1252077710.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyu8nqr9Tf3Jk8MuC_lCsnF_MRntkrL5fD2peonxpd2Kb6TkN0sZ1LKtrzLVT2gtSLl8-XBAsq0ah0ZpKIeD_kdUha8ABpDyI6MMxE4TThZOkKLSKl_4t-4yL48UawP3dtM04PVK2yFYY/s320/blogger-image--1252077710.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lateral incision-I took the stitches out</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKy42EYszXUXUjVVrEDDDDQoTnc-wOhYVTNazYHd7u2_iKgYNlCrJ48xvZwtf_rV1uucwrYB5isL6kiEomQrjV_XJEE6zv15HyycFs49uLN9ZJ6QeKAi9AQfwC4ZKuFiJK5Cp1_R7FlY/s1600/blogger-image-1467490029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKy42EYszXUXUjVVrEDDDDQoTnc-wOhYVTNazYHd7u2_iKgYNlCrJ48xvZwtf_rV1uucwrYB5isL6kiEomQrjV_XJEE6zv15HyycFs49uLN9ZJ6QeKAi9AQfwC4ZKuFiJK5Cp1_R7FlY/s200/blogger-image-1467490029.jpg" width="150"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anterior incision, the angry one</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">The</span></span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> pain from the hip has been throbbing</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">, aching. It's painful, but manageable. The pain from the hernia repair, however, feels like Satan's fiery claws have split me open and left shards of evil to twist through my soul. It never stops hurting. It hurts when I breathe, it hurts when I eat. It hurts when I laugh or basically exist. During my outside shower, which felt amazing, we noticed one of my incisions is a little angry looking. We decided a little dab of antibiotic ointment can't hurt. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"> Rich ran through the house looking everywhere for antibiotic ointment. He came back with puzzled expression on his face. "I couldn't find the Bacitracin, but I found like four tubes of hemorrhoid ointment." Raising one eyebrow he inquired, "Do you have another medical condition that we need to discuss?" I held my abs and laughed so hard I thought the pain might kill me. I keep hemorrhoid ointment around the house because it is good for shrinking things; everything from bug bites to saddle sore to eye bags. I'm not secretly hoarding hemorrhoid ointment. We've been so focused on this surgery and the upcoming races and all of the other stresses of life that we hadn't laughed that hard together in days. Laughter is something Rich and I do well. It's probably as basic to our marriage as love and respect. Why am I stressing so much? I think I'll take another painkiller</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"> and laugh</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"> with my husband tonight. Life's pressure will still be there tomorrow. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>8/13/2015-Post op Day the Gemini in me has lost track and the world sucks!</b> I cried a lot today. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyUcLl6xzmelaegtG-CbcfWj9SrJMVIPMZxfjFwS22JYNagswEEpV9NbnC8kD9SkzV9U2yYqHP_sv33ivYRhZAxFahB_5Od4OiIKTwe0V7H5U0a0-bI0VVhosGGx8vmwXV1ljF-HTzLUA/s1600/TV.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyUcLl6xzmelaegtG-CbcfWj9SrJMVIPMZxfjFwS22JYNagswEEpV9NbnC8kD9SkzV9U2yYqHP_sv33ivYRhZAxFahB_5Od4OiIKTwe0V7H5U0a0-bI0VVhosGGx8vmwXV1ljF-HTzLUA/s200/TV.jpg" width="200"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No! No pictures today! Sad face!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'm not much of a crier so by a lot I mean seven silent tears like you used to see that Native American man shed on those old anti-pollution commercials. I cried in PT. I cried at home. In front of Richard, I sobbed five great big sobs while he stood there rationalizing with me. I'm miserable. Not well enough to be good and not bad enough to have it all go by in a haze. After PT, we had an impromptu lunch with friends. While everyone was away from the table ordering, a thin man with tattoos and the look of a life lived pushing up against the edge of anything with an edge, came over to the table. Reading the misery on my face I didn't know I had left unguarded, he put his leg up on a chair and hitched up a leg of his blue jeans showing me his prosthesis. "I've got five of these beauties now, you know. I stayed awake for two solid days and then had a bad wreck on my Harley." He said it without self-pity. He reminded me that it all heals. It all heals. Everything heals. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"></span><br>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>8/17/2015 Post op Day 12.</b> I care enough to count again now that it feels more like progress and less like an unending sludge of days. From 9AM to 4PM I was out of the house doing combination of PT and Sports Society business. We have a race coming up August 21st. So what's it like to be 12 days post op? The abs are feeling like they won't rip free and leave my guts spilling out anymore. I'm finally a little less bloated. If you ever have an umbilical hernia repair, expect a lot of abdominal swelling. Dr. S, the general surgeon, said he bullet-proofed my abs and considering that most of the wounds are on the side of the leg I can use and not the side of the operative leg. I'm starting to believe him. Those abs have done a lot of work whether it hurts or not because they've had no choice. And the leg? It's weird. I<strike>t never has hurt in the context of regular pain. It's more like this uncomfortable feeling that wears on me the longer the day goes on.</strike> <i><span style="font-size: large;"> I lie! I lie! It hurt. It hurt quite a bit. I must have been on painkillers when I originally wrote this.</span></i> I have two tiny incisions. You've seen those. Hard to believe so much surgery can happen from two tiny wounds. Now that some of the healing has really progressed, I can devote most of my time to loathing the foam barrel I'm sleeping in. I can get myself out of those stupid booties at night to go potty. I can't get myself back in them though and no marriage can survive one spouse waking the other one up every night in the middle of the night for two straight weeks. I've opted to be married and satisfied using a firm, king size pillow to keep my leg in slight internal rotation all night. Being locked into sleeping on my back makes my gluteals go to sleep. Tingly, numb gluteals wake me up and the second I'm awake I have to go make tinkle. SIGH. My second loathing would be the brace I'm supposed to wear when I'm doing any more ambulating than going to the powder room. It keeps me from flexing the hip past a 90 degree angle. It's hot and it digs into the abdominal surgical area. So painful. Still not as bad as that stupid foam barrel. I asked why avoiding external rotation and not flexing past a 90 degree angle were so important and my PT told me that those activities place stress on the labrum. It makes sense so I am compliant with those two things. I really don't mind the crutches, the third piece of recovery gear, this experience has made me aware that I need is more shorts with pockets. Tomorrow I go see the othro for the first time since surgery. Nervous. Hoping for good news.</span><br>
<br>
<br>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>8/18/2015 Post op Day 13. </b></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHroQQLlgtRx3Jaukw3ibRcZL4l0PZlpb6pjEOi35wqVGJNms87qqey-w8zcAcqF_PGT85DByQoJbuaygg1R0lbpyYTpMoA0KvUTPWebPy5IQnGZXnOGOamQ5LIg7-rgxpHMAOV3gllIU/s640/blogger-image-1049609315.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHroQQLlgtRx3Jaukw3ibRcZL4l0PZlpb6pjEOi35wqVGJNms87qqey-w8zcAcqF_PGT85DByQoJbuaygg1R0lbpyYTpMoA0KvUTPWebPy5IQnGZXnOGOamQ5LIg7-rgxpHMAOV3gllIU/s200/blogger-image-1049609315.jpg" width="200"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre hernia repair</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNgLodY9R_K_rwyx_-ztyErdk2ldst7VpqlZALEZIO3q7_-ifOdf2DR5YoLYvibFYbQN4Nlt_noO9La7-hyoIlbtVVOOQO0yd9nEF2AHHS8TNfMFeb23mtVJeBsPakChu30UMF9eqP0C0/s1600/blogger-image-168607401.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNgLodY9R_K_rwyx_-ztyErdk2ldst7VpqlZALEZIO3q7_-ifOdf2DR5YoLYvibFYbQN4Nlt_noO9La7-hyoIlbtVVOOQO0yd9nEF2AHHS8TNfMFeb23mtVJeBsPakChu30UMF9eqP0C0/s200/blogger-image-168607401.jpg" width="200"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fancy disposable shorts</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAVIscAraUXJslSHJUOv1H6C6afgwYkwbvgd1M9T3dFTQ2IFch2Emb59DPW9M82oSNkZfSBkZzKDUhgY1kZPO5VvFoS-mLJ_tiYwx3OqJ0FyFL3w5-6w9-V620XrwuBZHpY9WEY79e19M/s640/blogger-image-1511305359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAVIscAraUXJslSHJUOv1H6C6afgwYkwbvgd1M9T3dFTQ2IFch2Emb59DPW9M82oSNkZfSBkZzKDUhgY1kZPO5VvFoS-mLJ_tiYwx3OqJ0FyFL3w5-6w9-V620XrwuBZHpY9WEY79e19M/s200/blogger-image-1511305359.jpg" title="" width="200"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the mend</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The hernia is healing well. It was small. It was also surprisingly painful on a run, especially a sprint. While it wasn't crippling, I decided to have it repaired while it was still small. As I said earlier, Dr. Shimer promised me he could bullet-proof my abs. I plan to test that. Maybe not literally. My entire abdominal area is still slightly swollen and I'm retaining fluid. Someone else wrote about surgery and said they retained fluid too. It doesn't look like it in the pictures yet, but the abdominal area looks much better. Flatter. <br>
<br>
The ortho appointment went well. I received my op report and some fancy disposable shorts for a follow-up X-ray. Dr. C told me I could wean off of my crutches. I was delighted. He also told me I could free myself of the leg brace and the stupid barrel contraption in a week. <br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<br>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX2PJnJ3nsx574Iw3kWVed5f3X7O-bAwyEy4I12L1sL7m-KsNmSr1BgBVOufyAqrid2fZNVxjQPtu7t5ZIgMN01_58pgDVv3eFuhFWr_3tpzAnv3bDqU78j6ZXauMUzo9Dr9ZWt1ED1sw/s640/blogger-image--232611207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX2PJnJ3nsx574Iw3kWVed5f3X7O-bAwyEy4I12L1sL7m-KsNmSr1BgBVOufyAqrid2fZNVxjQPtu7t5ZIgMN01_58pgDVv3eFuhFWr_3tpzAnv3bDqU78j6ZXauMUzo9Dr9ZWt1ED1sw/s400/blogger-image--232611207.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Op Report-Crossed out Tear should read Repair</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>8/21/2015 Post op Day 16. Race Day. </b>My husband started a non profit in 2010 and named it the longest name possible on the face of the earth, <a href="http://www.sportssocietyforamericanhealth.org/">Sports Society for American Health</a>. <b>SSAH </b>for short. (He's an biomedical engineer turned children's book author so he can be a bit wordy.) 15 years ago, he was speed skating competitively. As part of his training, he would skate across town to his job. One day a driver failed to yield the right-of-way at a stop sign. The bumper of the automobile shattered Richard's lower leg. The first EMT on the scene looked down and said, "Oh, they are going to have to amputate that." The chance of amputation was high. He was young and athletic; this was devastating news. The doctors gave him a 30% chance of saving the leg. He went through three surgeries, including a fasciotomy, in less than a month. If they could save the leg, he wasn't expected to walk for a full year. Following his doctor's guidelines and consulting his Physical Therapist brother-in-law, he not only walked, he won a national speed skating event. <br>
<br>
Skating was harder now. A friend named Ray Solis talked him into road biking and later triathlons. It had an impact on Richard. Being a biomedical engineer he recognized the impact fitness-rich circulation, functional muscles, organs that could withstand trauma and repeated anesthesia-that his physical health in general, had on his recovery. It was something he could no longer take for granted. He had a desire to share it with an area ranked as the 5th unhealthiest in the nation. Sports Society was born. He started out hosting cycling races, speed skating races and triathlons. Now we host several running events, a cycling time trial and a children's duathlon. <br>
<br>
Today is the day we direct the Sabine Causeway 5K. That means I have to work. The race is a 5K spanning a bridge that connects Texas to Louisiana. The runners run over and back-twice. It's a beautiful evening race with an incredible sunset. That meant I was going to have to be seated or standing for about 9 hours straight. Not an easy thing to do yet. Most days I am depending on getting prone and icing my hip between any activity to get work done. I won't have that luxury. I took just enough of my leftover painkillers to take the edge off so I could make it through hosting the race. For me that means half of a Percocet. We have a very experienced, capable crew of race volunteers. The race went smoothly. YAY! I used one crutch during the race. I've been ambulating around my home without it, but I knew this day would be too much and too dangerous without an aid. <br>
<br>
<br>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuv9Iu4o_zIeIv63N6E-fAlCfwZeeC3RXE7yGsM0iHuV2Kclo_6dhM3SczQkvU5YfUOSmfPotT7s23NWysnvg14aLNHULkvqEvN0BjC3vachCNMHk1wzdrkIMiZXoZicYNKKVBvV8yASc/s640/blogger-image--1919763457.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuv9Iu4o_zIeIv63N6E-fAlCfwZeeC3RXE7yGsM0iHuV2Kclo_6dhM3SczQkvU5YfUOSmfPotT7s23NWysnvg14aLNHULkvqEvN0BjC3vachCNMHk1wzdrkIMiZXoZicYNKKVBvV8yASc/s400/blogger-image--1919763457.jpg" width="298"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Race Crew-I'm wearing green...and a visor...and I have my thumbs up. :-)<br>
<br></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>8/22/2015 Post op Day 17.</b> <span style="font-size: x-large;"> OUCH! </span><br>
<div>
<b>8/23/2015 Post op Day 18.</b> <span style="font-size: large;">OUCH!</span></div>
<div>
<b>8/24/2015 Post op Day 19.</b> We're getting there. Finally. Ice, rest and getting back on the crutches two days<br>
<b>8/25/2015 Post op Day 20. </b>They let me do this in PT today. Well, not stand on the railing of a bridge, but they did let me stand on one leg. It was sort of scary, but liberating.<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0NOH4eob_Ow_wTXqt_WiHTAgSB36tw_hlUcLo1pRS8QEhiijcuqGyH4qOJmYsnYm9DW9c5HlIlQaatA9qF68Yw5RVJ-cm095LSkaoQ_04R40_2GP4nFmw5H-ryuEIqG5-4W3MPm_n6uU/s640/blogger-image-336722207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0NOH4eob_Ow_wTXqt_WiHTAgSB36tw_hlUcLo1pRS8QEhiijcuqGyH4qOJmYsnYm9DW9c5HlIlQaatA9qF68Yw5RVJ-cm095LSkaoQ_04R40_2GP4nFmw5H-ryuEIqG5-4W3MPm_n6uU/s640/blogger-image-336722207.jpg"></a></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> I go to Triangle Therapeutics which is a great facility. They have a full gym complete with high end equipment in another area of the building.</span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>8/28/2015 Post op Day 23. </b>I'm finally able to get on an upright bike. I also have permission from my PT to do some light upper body weights. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8iYoBYgZ2hyphenhyphenpj_abb-hfadp-E6ePbP6vKXV-bXomAKVt7qIUV20Ari5Sqkj0WwuTSDEDLLoSIXHGLTHuGixkEAb64J6uwiaGQQQ7QMajPr7cMhu0mI5uKy-1TLUemLN2ul-7HptY2joc/s640/blogger-image--1183131442.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8iYoBYgZ2hyphenhyphenpj_abb-hfadp-E6ePbP6vKXV-bXomAKVt7qIUV20Ari5Sqkj0WwuTSDEDLLoSIXHGLTHuGixkEAb64J6uwiaGQQQ7QMajPr7cMhu0mI5uKy-1TLUemLN2ul-7HptY2joc/s200/blogger-image--1183131442.jpg" width="200"></a><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie7KIwRQfvbZnF3Lua0IEgeS_8tXNOUBuMkA4CLm2lXVOuit2Z14RVkK0VJhKU2dY70hrzXHDAT0glcZxwM6PoOAK0R6crvI7zVYv9Hbk-Pt4XAHLbbkKTk3N1NYLgs2M3HaFk6_nkx4w/s640/blogger-image--160171725.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie7KIwRQfvbZnF3Lua0IEgeS_8tXNOUBuMkA4CLm2lXVOuit2Z14RVkK0VJhKU2dY70hrzXHDAT0glcZxwM6PoOAK0R6crvI7zVYv9Hbk-Pt4XAHLbbkKTk3N1NYLgs2M3HaFk6_nkx4w/s400/blogger-image--160171725.jpg" width="300"></a></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b><br></b></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>8/30/2015 Post op Day 25.</b> The sacroiliac area on the operative side has been killing me. This is very similar to the pain I had before the surgery. From the reading I've done, most people feel this in the front, in the groin. My worst pain has always been in the gluteal region. Specifically, in the sacroiliac, central gluteal and at the greater trochanter. Sleep helps. The pain increases as the day goes on. I'm still not encouraged to flex my hip beyond 90 degrees and I cannot stretch my piriformis, some of this simply muscle tightness, but the fear is always there, the fear that the surgery won't work, that it will fail and I'll be faced with having it again, or worse, with only the option of a hip replacement. </span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq9tpeN67juQ7FMKpxJ2s-BBspodxokwOzsPAR2NmlrV0HThtSEf51eRFentvBc3I3LFgRYrlzvEOImlCNSdy2m9Iw-i3G_OOK5kwiKNkAkJE3_Sv2FZ7E5tvbFoEPvB8Zm8MguUn2mNs/s640/blogger-image-2052171123.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq9tpeN67juQ7FMKpxJ2s-BBspodxokwOzsPAR2NmlrV0HThtSEf51eRFentvBc3I3LFgRYrlzvEOImlCNSdy2m9Iw-i3G_OOK5kwiKNkAkJE3_Sv2FZ7E5tvbFoEPvB8Zm8MguUn2mNs/s200/blogger-image-2052171123.jpg" width="150"></a><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>9/1/2015 Post op Day 27.</b> MRI with contrast of the left hip, the good hip. Symptoms in the left hip crescendoed about three weeks before I had surgery on the right hip. The left hip is less painful in the gluteal and more uncomfortable in the front of the hip. I suppose that's more typical for a labral tear/FAI, assuming I have one. I've found stats claiming 30% of people have this issue in both hips. Of course I wanted Dr. Internet to tell me it never happens; that to have FAI in both hips is impossible. <i>Curse word!</i><br><br> The common response to telling people about this surgery is "Oh, okay, so you did too much." People assume that I wore out my joints with cycling, swimming, lifting and running. That is inaccurate. I may have unveiled it sooner in my life, but the current medical thinking is that this condition is caused by a malformation of the bones in the critical growth years, in childhood. I didn't start exercising, really exercising until I was in my 30's. I grew up water skiing and I did make a stab at running cross country one year, but the truth is I didn't fall in love with athletic activity until later in life.</span><br>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">So what happens in an MRI with contrast? I undress and lie on my back. My groin is cleaned and draped to keep the field as sterile as possible. The joint is X-rayed. The radiologist uses lidocaine to deaden the area. It's a painful area. Lidocaine is a painful drug. Lidocaine works by moving into the cell and blocking a sodium channel responsible for pain. Pain occurs when sodium moves into the cell and builds up in this channel until an electrical impulse is large enough to be sent to the brain. Remember sodium is an ion. It has an electrical charge. It's not that I don't have pain, or that my nerves aren't aware of something happening, it's that they cannot build up sodium to send the ionically charged signal to the brain. So it never gets processed as pain. It is not this action though, that makes Lidocaine painful. From what I understand, it is the pH of the solution that makes it burn. Once the area is numb, the radiologist slides a needle down to the joint and injects a contrast. He takes another X-ray to confirm everything has landed in the right nooks and crannies. I'm immediately taken over for the MRI. The MRI is fast. Lying on a hard surface, with my feet taped together so that the left hip is in internal rotation, holding my muscles tense so as not to move is taxing on the right hip. By the time everything is done, my left hip hurts due to the extra, unwelcome fluid in the joint and my right hip hurts from everything else. On the car ride home, I find everything hurts. I'm tired. I'm sick. I just want to get in my bed and lie down. An hour later we are home. I take half of a pain pill and one of my leftover muscle relaxers and spend the rest of the afternoon in bed. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilSDoWnv2IH0Xzx_fphaMOc02sR2vvnQTpe_LieifdCCmcezOWrgQGhp9oOLYGDkGQiFRG5_veqh9o2kco1bgardNgU1BpPrAKVyg1KfhYQxZ5tkwj1mjjEwO69RTAAX1ScjBvzBGZ8Vc/s640/blogger-image--1329001870.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilSDoWnv2IH0Xzx_fphaMOc02sR2vvnQTpe_LieifdCCmcezOWrgQGhp9oOLYGDkGQiFRG5_veqh9o2kco1bgardNgU1BpPrAKVyg1KfhYQxZ5tkwj1mjjEwO69RTAAX1ScjBvzBGZ8Vc/s200/blogger-image--1329001870.jpg" width="200"></a></div>
<br>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaRp5jVYcfctG7Ww2ylB9fTJ4PfYxP8hWPgUZkoTsuxgP35t3Od1BnTTK90PZuUuhYDwMtzpMqX1lBTG5d88sPhLSnsWwmLihLg98gqiEHKNHTAOXcj8-fKXeY0jDWnBIoV0ViwLKrjaM/s640/blogger-image--806864903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaRp5jVYcfctG7Ww2ylB9fTJ4PfYxP8hWPgUZkoTsuxgP35t3Od1BnTTK90PZuUuhYDwMtzpMqX1lBTG5d88sPhLSnsWwmLihLg98gqiEHKNHTAOXcj8-fKXeY0jDWnBIoV0ViwLKrjaM/s200/blogger-image--806864903.jpg" width="169"></a><b>9/2/2015 Post op Day 28. </b>Richard instructed me to rest today so as soon as he left the house I did what any reasonable person would do and hauled myself to the grocery store. Rich has done a great job of taking care of me, but my body is craving more vegetables, more nutrition. Richard is a machine that can apologetically run off of pizza and hamburgers.<br>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcbxYYXzI4jHPYShURakurNviedxUzePOIreCrRjJ-Mg3NlCevN4ZQC7Q6g2QfZBPiqQQjp27HfKy8QAeZkyBXsw5R23d2sBOdjePPF7kUHQJoTUBk82JEYb1NZXwAyO-A24wncYSeNm4/s640/blogger-image--1789739271.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcbxYYXzI4jHPYShURakurNviedxUzePOIreCrRjJ-Mg3NlCevN4ZQC7Q6g2QfZBPiqQQjp27HfKy8QAeZkyBXsw5R23d2sBOdjePPF7kUHQJoTUBk82JEYb1NZXwAyO-A24wncYSeNm4/s320/blogger-image--1789739271.jpg" width="240"></a> Sometimes I almost hate him for it. <br>
<br>
So I bought all of these fruits and vegetables and turned them into meals. <i> <span style="font-size: large;">It took me all day. </span></i> Wash, chop, cook, sit down, rest and repeat.<br>
<ul>
<li>On the menu:</li>
<li>Swiss Chard and Lentil Soup with Sausage</li>
<li>Dark Chocolate Chili with Steak</li>
<li>Chicken Curry </li>
<li>Almost Blair's Salad </li>
<li>Fresh Fruit Bowls</li>
<li>Ginger Soup and</li>
<li>Black Bean and Egg Breakfast Burritos</li>
</ul>
<br>
Leah at The Loft trimmed my hair and straightened it. If I could just reach far enough down my leg to shave around my ankles, I'd almost feel pretty again. DAMN MY T-REX ARMS AND LUSCIOUS LEG HAIR GROWTH! On the days I fail to contort my way down there without breaking any of the leg bending rules, Rich shaves it for me. Did I mention that he is amazing? All you women should be swooning over my man.<br>
If I find out tomorrow the other hip has to be done, I'm buying a long-handled razor online.<br>
If you think I'm kidding, click <a href="http://www.glamour.com/lipstick/blogs/girls-in-the-beauty-department/2010/04/i-tried-it-a-superlong-razor-e">here</a><br>
The pain is mostly in my lower back today. I wish I could say it wasn't fatiguing, but it is. I'm so ready to feel like a normal person. <br>
<br>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaRp5jVYcfctG7Ww2ylB9fTJ4PfYxP8hWPgUZkoTsuxgP35t3Od1BnTTK90PZuUuhYDwMtzpMqX1lBTG5d88sPhLSnsWwmLihLg98gqiEHKNHTAOXcj8-fKXeY0jDWnBIoV0ViwLKrjaM/s640/blogger-image--806864903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfgOabJUPErqNfnb5xwbPWLGZwSh-tt35DUiyW9I8F3t8gb3KpJJxn907gfMht74XJU85NRVNnUX20yTI-Ie6U5loGAK5iFwHvLcEZDF1pzpulV1-2Q5-zDQTRNhh5dtjSAyitqIeJEXo/s640/blogger-image--330987041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfgOabJUPErqNfnb5xwbPWLGZwSh-tt35DUiyW9I8F3t8gb3KpJJxn907gfMht74XJU85NRVNnUX20yTI-Ie6U5loGAK5iFwHvLcEZDF1pzpulV1-2Q5-zDQTRNhh5dtjSAyitqIeJEXo/s640/blogger-image--330987041.jpg"></a></div>
<br>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFLF5hnOd8aKVUaUjEW0kxg04nyQl464cCswCH71Upk3_VE5N0-hpzO23wdf7vSVesFRzz9wV31-DFMAasORLqaDQ7hBQMPVTou7FAkjnq3ONMJg7J1n_kyf7tgqritA6c0m2oBEppSEQ/s640/blogger-image-862229551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFLF5hnOd8aKVUaUjEW0kxg04nyQl464cCswCH71Upk3_VE5N0-hpzO23wdf7vSVesFRzz9wV31-DFMAasORLqaDQ7hBQMPVTou7FAkjnq3ONMJg7J1n_kyf7tgqritA6c0m2oBEppSEQ/s320/blogger-image-862229551.jpg" width="320"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MRI of the Left Hip</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>9/3/2015 Post op Day 29. </b>Even though I knew, it still left me fighting my emotions. Air squeezing out of my lungs. Tears stabbing and threatening my eyes. Hope exists in spaces deprived of sunlight and oxygen. Hope thrives in conditions incompatible with life. Hope is hard to kill and painful when it dies. <br>
<br>
Logically, I know this is okay. Emotionally, it takes away exercise for a longer period of time. Exercise is what I use to cope with stress. Exercise is sanity. Running, cycling, swimming, kayaking, mountain biking, weight lifting-these are my reasons to exist. Promoting health. Encouraging people to find their athletic potential and thus their life potential- it's not just my work. It's my joy. I miss being a part of it.<br>
<br></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both;">
So now I wait for the next surgery date. Dr. C also ordered a corticosteroid shot for the right sacroiliac joint. We agree that the SI pain needs to be addressed. It's hard to wait. Rich and I are self-employed with no paid time off. It's hard for both of us to work around this. There is good news. <a href="http://casciosportsmed.com/">Dr. Cascio</a> released me from PT today. I will go to my appointment tomorrow, but then I'm on my own. He is also very pleased with how well the right hip has responded to surgery. I feel bad. I was so caught up in my disappointment that I forgot to tell him how grateful I am for his help.<br>
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPRCNOoxUiwckBp12xOJI71dypA8Oq6bQivstFtU2QX9BAr2brsAJ4mETT_1FmTYVQG6B6IGrlF_6bODHDshvgnBUhwEhBgwQIALC4pqwAA1aQE0H9qs4M-bgPZ4efK_FfaD4Ms9UrLg/s640/blogger-image-1670455339.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPRCNOoxUiwckBp12xOJI71dypA8Oq6bQivstFtU2QX9BAr2brsAJ4mETT_1FmTYVQG6B6IGrlF_6bODHDshvgnBUhwEhBgwQIALC4pqwAA1aQE0H9qs4M-bgPZ4efK_FfaD4Ms9UrLg/s320/blogger-image-1670455339.jpg" width="213"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AHHH! I'm losing my tan!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>9/13/2015 Post op Day 39. </b>I find myself doing more and more things without thinking about the hip. I realized what I haven't mentioned is the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lateral_cutaneous_nerve_of_thigh">lateral cutaneous nerve</a> and how it feels after surgery. I get flashes of fast, stabbing burning shocking pain below the lateral incision. Those little witchy lightening bolts don't seem to be related to any specific movements so I can't avoid them. That doesn't stop me from trying.<br>
Years ago, I had two big dogs and no fence. There was no way I was surrendering my pets to an animal shelter and no possibility of erecting a fence. I settled on an electronic system with a shock collar to keep the dogs contained. The dogs learned that a warning chirp came before they entered shock territory and this sound allowed them to relax and patrol their borders. No chirp, no problem. Chirp, back up and no shock. It was a great solution. They did well with it. Learned it fast, loved having full run of the yard. One night, I walked outside to feed them and found my poor dogs pressed up against the house, afraid to move. Without moving his head a centimeter, the male rolled his eyes up to my face and then out to the yard. I realized the crickets sounded just like the warning chirp. I uncollared them for the night as they both audibly sighed and relaxed. The lateral cutaneous nerve pain is my shock collar. It gets better as I go. I haven't felt it in a week or so now, but like the dogs, I'll heed any warning chirps.<br>
<br>
Today was absolutely beautiful so Rich took Diesel skating and while I rode my mountain bike. Again, it's not smart to be riding a bike at all, but it keeps the crazies at bay. I do what I have to do.<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br></div>
<br>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimJHXop3SlVK0lsXjpNP-6Tk9wcpkonCMVerVSQTmkO1kavhU01SFK4CyKGpqY7hzblFRos7yWr2ZJ8IxV0xZtG_i_ErxdJrYixdMJ-1hdsKqXiMYrdzMqmfJ8NREVon0BFWzmqjGxtJg/s640/blogger-image--2086725121.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimJHXop3SlVK0lsXjpNP-6Tk9wcpkonCMVerVSQTmkO1kavhU01SFK4CyKGpqY7hzblFRos7yWr2ZJ8IxV0xZtG_i_ErxdJrYixdMJ-1hdsKqXiMYrdzMqmfJ8NREVon0BFWzmqjGxtJg/s640/blogger-image--2086725121.jpg" width="480"></a><br>
<br>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div>
<b>9/14/2015 Post op Day 40. </b>I showed up to be a part of one of the fantastic local running groups tonight. The <a href="http://www.facebook.com/GTSTRUTTERS" target="_blank">Golden Triangle Strutter</a>s is a free group started by two brothers, Jeremy and William Fermo. It's a completely free club that meets at least once a week. It's pretty neat and it has spurred a lot of pride. It's good thing that's happened, putting this area on the running map. We're considered the 5th unhealthiest region in the United States. Such a shame as this area is full of great people, but groups like Sports Society for American Health and the Golden Triangle Strutters are chipping away at it. This area can also be tough to break into. Fitness groups create a great opportunity to socialize. This is an incredibly friendly group.<br>
<br>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipUUzSBueQFW_OJ8AwYGoVgVHbOJSXXMnvQiKn4emvP9HcRHvoeIob6PQAao23Aa1TuxZsyvEYM1Lrz7f9CwZ-9eRYvbMt6lrQxbfGxidHhDkedpqMCsXJmJmQrfTsCWO2bU4AYmuXVXU/s640/blogger-image--539281661.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipUUzSBueQFW_OJ8AwYGoVgVHbOJSXXMnvQiKn4emvP9HcRHvoeIob6PQAao23Aa1TuxZsyvEYM1Lrz7f9CwZ-9eRYvbMt6lrQxbfGxidHhDkedpqMCsXJmJmQrfTsCWO2bU4AYmuXVXU/s400/blogger-image--539281661.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm the idiot doing jazz hands</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So I showed up tonight hoping to walk a bit. A friend offered to walk with me and by the time it was over I'd hoofed it for 2 miles, enjoyed some good conversation, and played with one frisky golden retriever. The hip burns a little post walk, but it was worth it. If the world ever does collapse, I'm convinced that it's the amateur runners, the Saturday cyclists, the fitness enthusiasts, the weekend warriors that will step up and lend a helping hand. It's hard to explain, but having spent over a decade around recreational athletes, it is undeniably in their nature.<br>
<br>
<b>9/18/2015 Post Op 6 Weeks and 1 Day! </b>Everyone who has had surgery knows that the 6th week is the magical week for surgery. It's the day you can usually go back to all activity and/or work. It's the day you are released from care. <i><b>The day that you can resume all activities!</b></i> It doesn't quite work that way for activities with this surgery as I was told early on that this is a 4 month recovery. For that reason, you won't find me running any 5K's yet, but it still felt good to hit the six week mark. <br>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3dVvXSRb6zMlqNTXP7eMztnML4vemEremytNrAshk_elcnrLN4kYvS0d4oNB4XTiHl8IufDDNceWClm8DeUV3HGZqO6LL5FollRSAlKtMCReSFabFiTMMejywKJdo3Fa3wFGyCQwv7l0/s640/blogger-image-480459351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3dVvXSRb6zMlqNTXP7eMztnML4vemEremytNrAshk_elcnrLN4kYvS0d4oNB4XTiHl8IufDDNceWClm8DeUV3HGZqO6LL5FollRSAlKtMCReSFabFiTMMejywKJdo3Fa3wFGyCQwv7l0/s320/blogger-image-480459351.jpg" width="240"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very thoughtful T-shirt gifted to me from my friend Robert.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br>
On Wednesday the 16th, I sat in <a href="http://casciosportsmed.com/" target="_blank">Dr. Cascio's</a> office and completed the surgical registration process to have surgery on my left hip on the 28th. Rosie is my office nurse. She's fantastic. She's a bulldog about caring for her patients and a fantastic communicator. She remarked on how quickly my right hip recovery was progressing. That felt so good to hear. The thing about FAI surgery is that it is more painful that a complete hip replacement so sometimes it's hard to tell if you are making progress. I did ask her how long it would hurt. It's rarely more than mildly painful, but even mildly pain is fatiguing. <i>I try not to push my body into doing anything that would require taking anything, even something as mild as Tylenol, for pain. That's my barometer for activity</i>. Rosie said it was not unusual for pain to last as a long as 6 months. Pre-op and hospital pre-admit took a total of three hours. A person could make a career out of being a patient. <br>
<br>
On Thursday the 17th, I went the monthly social run hosted by our local running store, <a href="http://ontheruntx.com/" target="_blank">On The Run-Beaumont</a>. I won a pair of free Saucony running shoes! It couldn't have come at a better time. I was just looking at my old pair of running shoes and wondering if their wear patterns would be good for me now that my body will be a little bio-mechanically different. Who knows, but like any good sports enthusiast, I have my superstitions. </div>
<div>
<br>
<div>
<b>9/25/2015 Post Op Week 7.1. </b>Dr, Cascio's office called with my left hip surgery time on Monday. I'm first case. Go me! Less time to be hungry. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsMjxp4QwEdNKC6078CUhmBLFeSdhb77bWkT7LNQKuoTH0RF8TqEODeB1YOssmG_3MpJhgO-WKwr5RHyEW8jsqQxeq75EzIHAPSWxhF_Q_FchQqQqsXi-Ro0v7VHxq6lTfiCR1AKRaC4g/s640/blogger-image-1407029027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsMjxp4QwEdNKC6078CUhmBLFeSdhb77bWkT7LNQKuoTH0RF8TqEODeB1YOssmG_3MpJhgO-WKwr5RHyEW8jsqQxeq75EzIHAPSWxhF_Q_FchQqQqsXi-Ro0v7VHxq6lTfiCR1AKRaC4g/s200/blogger-image-1407029027.jpg" width="200"></a>Meanwhile, my right sciatic nerve flared up yesterday because I wore stupid shoes. My friend Greg asked me to define "stupid shoes". It was a fair question and something I've been pondering for a long time now. </div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Shoes were originally invented to protect delicate human feet and enhance walking. Shoes were the garment king of functionality! Somewhere along the way, shoes took an ugly turn as heels grew higher and more torturous. Read this great article from the New York Post to learn more about the <a href="http://nypost.com/2015/01/25/the-history-of-high-heels-from-venice-prostitutes-to-stilettos/" target="_blank">history</a> of high heels. </span></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both;">
From wedges to kitten heels, to stilettos- high heels <span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">more prominently display our lady lumps, make us look taller, thinner and more like a goddess. Yet, more than once I've watched a woman hobble across a room in obvious pain. They say their shoes are comfortable. It's a lie. There is no such animal as a comfortable high heeled shoe. It's mythical like the unicorn, and the bra so cozy you'll never want to take it off. Liars! Bras and shoes are in a race to come off as soon as a woman hits the door of her home. Often them come off simultaneously. Ladies, am I lying? </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"></span></div>
<br>
<div class="" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">By the very nature of having a hiked heel, all of the wearer's body weight ends up on the ball of the foot. The tendons underneath the foot get stretched into an unnatural position. Delicate toes get crammed up against the toe box or strap as your feet naturally slide forward. High heels are the antithesis of footwear.</span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"> But I have my weak moments. I, too, want to be closer to a Victoria's Secret model in legginess than my 5'2 (5'3" if you're asking for my weight) frame </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">will allow. I wore my evil multi-colored, super adorable leather wedges yesterday and my hip fought back. Damn it.</span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both;">
<b>9/27/2015 Right Hip-Post Op Week 7.3.</b> The next time I blog it will be about <i><b>both hips</b></i>. Surgery on the left hip happens tomorrow morning. I'm handling it well on the outside, but on the inside I'm screaming. I've asked a lot of my right side in a short amount of time. Some of it because of my work, some of it for my sanity, some of it because I knew it would become the hip on which I depend. My right sciatic nerve is a diva. I'm not pain free from the first surgery. I'm still exhausted. <i>How will I cope with bilateral hip weakness and pain? How will I cope with more fatigue? How will I cope with even more anxiety about my surgical outcome? </i></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both;">
<br></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both;">
I never realized how important the pelvis is to stability and power. I have always known I have a drive to be physically independent. Weakness, dependency, fragility-hate words. I didn't spend countless hours learning to swim, building strength, cycling, and running mile after mile, because I'm a person that deals with vulnerability well. Raging under my surface is a desperate need for strength and self-sufficiency. It's not enough to live, I need to thrive. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both;">
<br></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both;">
<b>9/28/2015 Right Hip Week 7.4~Left Hip Ground Zero.</b></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
I pranced into day surgery, threw my arms wide open and announced that I, Valedictorian of Day Surgery, had returned. Nobody even looked up from the nurses station. Unless you're GI bleeding from your nipples and allergic to oxygen, nurses aren't all that easy to impress. Oh well, they were all very nice and my stay was uneventful. They even made sure I had my scopolamine patch to stave off anesthesia nausea. The anesthesia was good. Really good. Almost no nausea and what I did have went away with medication and slice of lemon cake. I ate the <i>whole</i> thing.<br>
<br>
Dr. Cascio had a full load today so I don't know what all he did yet, but he remarked on the amount of arthritis I had in my less symptomatic hip. I guess the MRI/contrast didn't tell the whole story. </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeNISDEKl58YBM_O9NhETyJ-w-mR777OJvtGreA1VsqGdm_rsWgcZxkfodZN_sqlp7UJwo-5cZT9FT7yGjDrvAOBrPz1TcJJTDiq-xVv9g7-evCQpIYz-fXRHOdF6bB-BvJ8vfGLPTSX0/s200/blogger-image-785211.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Shackles</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihUvMF6MBuplkwTVAyalbGccT9c-Sid2YIqRcJtzaA65-cqk2rXxMma94FxpIQMtE2b5ANpYRvmYS8apx4jz9ett5ymTlosBNqTyLkbojRP9GP1tJLl8Ps0zcSDK6M2A3ibalt57w_xaI/s1600/blogger-image--1127855071.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihUvMF6MBuplkwTVAyalbGccT9c-Sid2YIqRcJtzaA65-cqk2rXxMma94FxpIQMtE2b5ANpYRvmYS8apx4jz9ett5ymTlosBNqTyLkbojRP9GP1tJLl8Ps0zcSDK6M2A3ibalt57w_xaI/s200/blogger-image--1127855071.jpg" width="150"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeNISDEKl58YBM_O9NhETyJ-w-mR777OJvtGreA1VsqGdm_rsWgcZxkfodZN_sqlp7UJwo-5cZT9FT7yGjDrvAOBrPz1TcJJTDiq-xVv9g7-evCQpIYz-fXRHOdF6bB-BvJ8vfGLPTSX0/s1600/blogger-image-785211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"></span></a><br>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeNISDEKl58YBM_O9NhETyJ-w-mR777OJvtGreA1VsqGdm_rsWgcZxkfodZN_sqlp7UJwo-5cZT9FT7yGjDrvAOBrPz1TcJJTDiq-xVv9g7-evCQpIYz-fXRHOdF6bB-BvJ8vfGLPTSX0/s1600/blogger-image-785211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"></span></a><span style="color: black;">The post-op drugs are good. Really, really good. Ice is a staple. I managed to behave myself for the day. The left hip is swollen, as is my abdominal cavity. All normal. It hurts when I get up, so I spent most of the day in bed. Also normal. If the right hip/sciatic nerve hurts right now, I'm not noticing it. Bright side! Write more later. For now I must lie around in my shackles.</span><br>
<span style="color: black;"></span><br>
<span style="color: black;"></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
<b>9/29/2015 Post Op. Rt Hip 7.4 weeks/Lt Hip Day 1. </b>I only woke up once with pain during the night, but for the most part, ice and post op medications have kept me fairly comfortable. I woke up several times trying to pull my feet out of the booties and roll onto my side. I'm a side sleeper and I indulged myself with the support of a great pillow three or four weeks after the right hip surgery. Now I have to break myself again. </div>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrE_NYxpX9RxoYvXaHlP5aze267j1bJq2dOfUpOcE6nD547neNZOPInSqH6Rz0J21cfestz2f4XlJKAgfIjEbXhgOkJXeg8jJHzlsDN3sfWpP5rvYyRD9cZVqTY_vK41aeYLeyTsrUF70/s640/blogger-image-1522217482.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrE_NYxpX9RxoYvXaHlP5aze267j1bJq2dOfUpOcE6nD547neNZOPInSqH6Rz0J21cfestz2f4XlJKAgfIjEbXhgOkJXeg8jJHzlsDN3sfWpP5rvYyRD9cZVqTY_vK41aeYLeyTsrUF70/s320/blogger-image-1522217482.jpg" width="320"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVkVA0ogeeAkgPOyV8ebaqmYPiOWKZ7oMw7vYKM6Xp4fe2yodL5nDt5rEl6bAWPdh2vVVdthjvcWuRJgViQigKFkwJsaGEbbgFgmYe8R5dG-rfxi8XU_HrICCqPy6o3dBy_aV_NBEpIEc/s640/blogger-image-1132897711.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVkVA0ogeeAkgPOyV8ebaqmYPiOWKZ7oMw7vYKM6Xp4fe2yodL5nDt5rEl6bAWPdh2vVVdthjvcWuRJgViQigKFkwJsaGEbbgFgmYe8R5dG-rfxi8XU_HrICCqPy6o3dBy_aV_NBEpIEc/s200/blogger-image-1132897711.jpg" width="150"></a> I started PT this morning. It is very common to start PT one or two days post-op. The dog and his boy helped me get ready. <br>
<br>
PT consisted of an assessment, some scar mobilization on the right side and passive ROM of the left. Have I mentioned how much I love <a href="http://www.triangletherapeutics.com/" target="_blank">Triangle Therapeutics</a>? I plan to medicate, eat and sleep the rest of the day. Lofty goals. </div>
<div>
<br></div>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAVP78hMFkoBNN4h2HVdaxtIqXi1OcmvoFV0_sG4XAESBBYEesWujVPCWyP1faDYHClLsNTPu6nGHN-TmjVA9W6FhP2oqNGb92sjRlbdMG4h5pjQds4_ZHBx_Y-_YzAp2jOAtnYffI-P0/s640/blogger-image-2054121320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAVP78hMFkoBNN4h2HVdaxtIqXi1OcmvoFV0_sG4XAESBBYEesWujVPCWyP1faDYHClLsNTPu6nGHN-TmjVA9W6FhP2oqNGb92sjRlbdMG4h5pjQds4_ZHBx_Y-_YzAp2jOAtnYffI-P0/s320/blogger-image-2054121320.jpg" width="240"></a><br>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>9/30/2015 Post Op. Rt Hip 7.5 weeks/Lt Hip Day 2. </b><br>It's been a fairly uneventful day. Rich left me alone some this morning to help his father with some home repair work and I was completely fine. I think Richard was more nervous about leaving me than I was about being left. I'm ambulating pretty well. I can't carry anything with crutches. That's a bummer. I use a backpack to help me get items from point A to point B, but it doesn't work for all things.</span><br>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsz1GoRGPFMqAwf2WonD8qv_Faw1tHGWoDkFHOGRIhNrHcEBWYCu6_kZBhVVk4syAeHcjdOhJX0nlYL7VS-NUWttUsWh7Oc5VPMmg_dvPgWZr1nlmoFzubeNgWNhvID1zCDEQ3kOa79pU/s640/blogger-image--81702063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsz1GoRGPFMqAwf2WonD8qv_Faw1tHGWoDkFHOGRIhNrHcEBWYCu6_kZBhVVk4syAeHcjdOhJX0nlYL7VS-NUWttUsWh7Oc5VPMmg_dvPgWZr1nlmoFzubeNgWNhvID1zCDEQ3kOa79pU/s400/blogger-image--81702063.jpg" width="225"></a><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My abdominal cavity is quite swollen from the fluid they used to open up and visualize the hip space, but my body will eventually absorb it. It's uncomfortable. I feel like I ate my way through three Thanksgiving dinners. Looks that way too. I'm coping with help of stretchy pants.</span><br>
<b><br></b>
<b>10/5/2015. Left Hip Post Op Day 7.</b> Put on shorts using crutches as chopsticks. It's always good to learn new skills. Not being able to flex my hips past a 90 degree angle has been the mother of ingenuity.<br>
<br>
Removed sutures. Steri stripped wounds. Wish I hadn't been too surgically beat up to think of that the first time around. Oh well, that side will just have a wilder scar. <br>
<br>
I haven't written much this time. I've been tired and extremely frustrated having just done this whole bit. Rich did take me to a local botanical garden. I desperately needed out of the house. We went to <a href="http://starkculturalvenues.org/shangrilagardens/" target="_blank">Shangri La</a>, in Orange, Texas. It was lovely. I ended up with the extra wide wheelchair still being too fatigued to crutch any long distances. The garden employee claimed it was the only one she had left. Mmmmmm...hmmm...sure. Insult to injury. I know I've been a calorically bad girl.<br>
<br>
<b>10/12/2015 Right Hip Post Op Week 9/Left Hip Post Op Week 2. </b>Post op appointment with Dr. C tomorrow. I'm dreading what he will probably have to say. All he told my husband after surgery is that I had a lot of arthritis and he spent most of his time "digging out arthritis". He also told Rich he was able to buy me "many, many more miles." That's not the report we wanted. We wanted to hear that I had very little arthritis and a decent amount of labral tissue to save. <br>
The first conscious thing I remember asking Rich after surgery was how it turned out. When he told me what the doctor said, it was agonizing. Not even the post op medications could keep me from feeling the pain. Both of us know it's now become a race to keep any more deterioration from happening, if that's possible, before medical science can make enough leaps to start replacing natural articular cartilage. While I could technically have a hip replacement, they are not without their problems and having one done so young means I would probably be looking at another one in my lifespan. That's not exactly appealing. <br>
<br>
Rich said he sat there in the recovery room with me deliberating how or what to tell me and went with the blunt approach in the end. He said he thought about when he almost lost his leg and how hearing they might have to amputate was the hardest blow and that once he'd been dealt that, hearing anything else got easier. So far nothing else has gotten easier and I'm not looking forward the details. </div>
<div>
<b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">10/13/2015 Right Hip Post Op Week 9/Left Hip Post Op Week 2. </b></div>
<div>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">How my left hip op report reads:</span></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNvRJnAy4I-hLFtsecCOKp0cH5VHZps5D-bNb_CGoWbkwu4cE9RkIIjbBaQr2eb4CqTi9Tk1yGGl246dZBrm81mZ7tR8ujG9y97UYDY9ZNNTsAL4Aq9RxVlXohXH8ifpaDqhF2JyXghx4/s640/blogger-image-298886386.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNvRJnAy4I-hLFtsecCOKp0cH5VHZps5D-bNb_CGoWbkwu4cE9RkIIjbBaQr2eb4CqTi9Tk1yGGl246dZBrm81mZ7tR8ujG9y97UYDY9ZNNTsAL4Aq9RxVlXohXH8ifpaDqhF2JyXghx4/s400/blogger-image-298886386.jpg" width="400"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
How I feel:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikIHKfyPQq2WETWg1n6ulabc4ie0iTcnD1_ff45kkfjt4Mevh_De7PsgF7A4etoj7cM-PvuGcg2scsBd_UCUYKCYwX-XN_OoO1HLydlu4SYxMLWtr_ymzXSUT4BbrZRf7J67-AtB__iOE/s640/blogger-image--2038365156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikIHKfyPQq2WETWg1n6ulabc4ie0iTcnD1_ff45kkfjt4Mevh_De7PsgF7A4etoj7cM-PvuGcg2scsBd_UCUYKCYwX-XN_OoO1HLydlu4SYxMLWtr_ymzXSUT4BbrZRf7J67-AtB__iOE/s400/blogger-image--2038365156.jpg" width="313"></a></div>
It isn't the worst news in the world. He actually took the position of telling me anything is possible, but that running less is probably better for me than running more. At least I can run. Logically, I understand this.<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
E<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">motionally, I'm still sure he meant to say, "Run all you want. Running increases your awesomeness and aids in the regeneration of cartilage. You should probably eat daily cupcakes while you're at it. Studies have shown cupcakes are extremely beneficial to joint health and six pack abs."</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br>It's not over. I have cartilage damage and a rotator cuff tear in my right shoulder that is next on the chopping block. Several years ago, I was unintentionally knocked off my road bicycle at high speeds and rode the ground with my arm pinned underneath my head. I ended up with a fracture and apparently some other damage. It is possible that this same accident caused all of my hip issues. It's also possible my hip were simply congenital as I wrote earlier in my blog. I'll never know and it doesn't matter. The end result is the same. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><b>10/26/2015 Right Hip Post Op Week 11/Left Hip Post Op Week 4. </b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">Dr. Cascio's office called with the surgery date for my right arm. The last surgery in this long chain of events is scheduled for November 9th, which is exactly two days after we host the Pleasure Island Bridge Half Marathon, 10K and Kinsel Ford 2 Mile. I'm so ready for all of this to be over. I'm exhausted. It's hard to explain to people that this is a long recovery and each surgery digs the ground out from under me a little more when I haven't even found my footing from the first one. Chronic pain adds to the fatigue. Tylenol and other over the counter medications don't even touch the pain. So I go along doing only what I have to do, giving in to prescription pain meds when I can't take it anymore. 2015 has been a rough year. I get very impatient with myself about healing. Then I look at the tiny incisions where they bored into my body- </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;">all the way down through layers of muscle, fat and nerve to work on my bone and think to myself that if those aren't healed, how can anything inside be healed? Patience. Patience is hard.</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"> I need to be back to work, pushing, making things happen. I do work, but I'm limited. I need to be able to support my friends. I do engage, but I'm limited. I need to pull my weight around the house. I do cook and clean, but not as much as I should. The stress is incredible.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"> I did go to a great Halloween party Saturday night. I had a blast. It took meds to get me on my feet that long, but for a few hours I felt normal. It was so good. Looking forward to a time in life when being around people, having no pain, having energy is my normal again.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue light" , , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnvsqV0Q9ydQRzvw2rfKpyM5y4d9SMJqQ6RmkfIREWOTtTbD6LH4riRGm3Se2HWzKiL2VCMGoeKf2OhNp8TXurjXrzYnBb4zibeg_bEUnvKk-BEfK08QWpwfb_EphIDEyLcFTPIr6PAjY/s640/blogger-image-438662205.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnvsqV0Q9ydQRzvw2rfKpyM5y4d9SMJqQ6RmkfIREWOTtTbD6LH4riRGm3Se2HWzKiL2VCMGoeKf2OhNp8TXurjXrzYnBb4zibeg_bEUnvKk-BEfK08QWpwfb_EphIDEyLcFTPIr6PAjY/s320/blogger-image-438662205.jpg" width="320"></a></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<b><br></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<b>11/11/2015 Right Hip Post Op Week 13/Left Hip Post Op Week 6/Right Shoulder 2 Days.</b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I haven't written much recently because we have been so busy preparing for <a href="https://www.facebook.com/IslandBridgeHalfMarathon" target="_blank">Pleasure Island Bridge Half Marathon, 10K and Kinsel Ford 2 Mile</a>. We've also had an Aflac account in the middle of all of it. I did manage to edit 6 chapters of Richard's 4th book in the series <a href="https://www.facebook.com/AoE.Fans" target="_blank">Adventures of the Elements</a>.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinyth8tv3jl8UIi6eiR6eZlXUXrZwN_s3XfsyeCSB9KjbAPokzQ6n68487fuoOo_R-1dhnLi2a67dlC47qdRlwqcv960PwVWYARSLEbDgNsvHJpREBsTUw3LHkGMhfjuJi4CMewquu8lI/s1600/12208201_10153437901759475_373267262_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinyth8tv3jl8UIi6eiR6eZlXUXrZwN_s3XfsyeCSB9KjbAPokzQ6n68487fuoOo_R-1dhnLi2a67dlC47qdRlwqcv960PwVWYARSLEbDgNsvHJpREBsTUw3LHkGMhfjuJi4CMewquu8lI/s320/12208201_10153437901759475_373267262_n.jpg" width="320"></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinyth8tv3jl8UIi6eiR6eZlXUXrZwN_s3XfsyeCSB9KjbAPokzQ6n68487fuoOo_R-1dhnLi2a67dlC47qdRlwqcv960PwVWYARSLEbDgNsvHJpREBsTUw3LHkGMhfjuJi4CMewquu8lI/s1600/12208201_10153437901759475_373267262_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> The left hip has healed beautifully. No pain. I could almost forget I had anything done to it. The right hip which was more symptomatic, is still a bother. Dr. Cascio seems think it is the piriformis having trapped the sciatic nerve for so long that is causing my remaining pain. My neurologist friend said it could be two years before that nerve heals enough to settle down. In the meantime, I'll just have to live with it. It also may never heal, but I'm not banking on that. I'm a competitive healer. I will get through this.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The weather was less than cooperative for the Pleasure Island Bridge Half Marathon, 10K and Kinsel Ford 2 Mile on November 7th. Many weekends of heavy rain built up the mosquito population to a point they were militant. I swear, they were flying in organized formations and attacking. They ate through my OFF like it was barbeque sauce. Then the light rain that had been predicted turned into a torrential downpour. (Don't blame the weatherman. He is working with limited data because there is no weather information in parts of the Gulf of Mexico. He did his best and frankly, he is almost always right.) </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUh4ptXEAahXSo_XLqE4ilqmTQ_sRdhQ4xOnTw1n_4E5d7M8yZOXiXF53eLBRj8kajQOMAFaghdlTSL1OBL6gsFy8EUmF7nf3_CXfOzv6TgaiLf3qKH1ABmFTCDAUrv1XJfCLt8eoglbg/s1600/12195087_776836812427150_5169323028180593772_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUh4ptXEAahXSo_XLqE4ilqmTQ_sRdhQ4xOnTw1n_4E5d7M8yZOXiXF53eLBRj8kajQOMAFaghdlTSL1OBL6gsFy8EUmF7nf3_CXfOzv6TgaiLf3qKH1ABmFTCDAUrv1XJfCLt8eoglbg/s320/12195087_776836812427150_5169323028180593772_o.jpg" width="320"></span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Despite all of the misery, the runners were remarkable. Smiling, happy, splashing around in puddles and slapping mosquitoes off of each other. I've said this a thousand times and I'll say it again-If you are in charge of hiring, hire a runner. They can take adversity. They can get through almost any challenge. They are excellent problem solvers and capable. They will do the toughest job with a smile. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilOKk4x8M_Pq9ob-9lojvR1DSghxCsJC8MLK4YjDwGIvVHViS2kCeQHOJ8unckpBhb4ncYY7JJCKflxzjmo1RhXUc81lAP3JQesyRExpZ1bUKYeoBg54Nbi_52JDiT7Ipv2kLLAo3kl9w/s1600/blogger-image--919207549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilOKk4x8M_Pq9ob-9lojvR1DSghxCsJC8MLK4YjDwGIvVHViS2kCeQHOJ8unckpBhb4ncYY7JJCKflxzjmo1RhXUc81lAP3JQesyRExpZ1bUKYeoBg54Nbi_52JDiT7Ipv2kLLAo3kl9w/s320/blogger-image--919207549.jpg" width="240"></span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">Unfortunately, island parking is a field. Early in the week, we went to flag the low lying areas of the parking lot, having been assured we would have no problem in the lot with the predicted light rain. But we didn't get light rain. We got Hurricane Race Day. Rich, myself and Big Mike are the three responsible for putting the race on. Everyone else is pure volunteer. Because of the rain, our volunteer numbers were down. One group that had actually committed wrote us at 6:30AM race morning to tell us she had excused her volunteers from duty. Yikes! Of course, there is no time to check email or messaging an hour before the race starts with everything else that has to be done, so we didn't find out until that night what had happened to them. Luckily, the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/SEAHAWKSSOFTBALL" target="_blank">Lamar State College Seahawks Softball</a> team showed up in full force and with their help we were able to make it work. </span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Again, follow this team and if one of these ladies ever shows up for an interview, hire her. They worked hard, without complaining, through some rough circumstances. They will get the job done.</span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Back to the parking lot, once the torrential rain started, the field turned into gumbo. I knew someone had to go help people get out of there, so I took the job. I have one rule about volunteers: I never ask them to do anything I won't do myself. I went out to the field and helped people find higher ground and get out of the parking lot. This involved pushing about 11-13 cars out. My right hip hurt so bad from two solid days of standing, bending, and not resting, that I didn't know if I could do it, but I did. Eventually, Brian Beard, another fantastic volunteer, fired me and took over. All I can say is that I was very moved by the people that jumped in to help. I was also very touched by how easy-going the runners were about the mud. Not one person still has a car in that field and that is all because of the teamwork of strangers. Again-hire an athlete, they know how to work as a team.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilOKk4x8M_Pq9ob-9lojvR1DSghxCsJC8MLK4YjDwGIvVHViS2kCeQHOJ8unckpBhb4ncYY7JJCKflxzjmo1RhXUc81lAP3JQesyRExpZ1bUKYeoBg54Nbi_52JDiT7Ipv2kLLAo3kl9w/s640/blogger-image--919207549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></a><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sunday, we took everything out of the truck to dry it out and sort it. Then Monday it was shoulder surgery time. I had a torn bicep, a torn labrum and a torn supraspinitis tendon. I'm really starting to believe my problems may have come from one pretty gnarly road bike crash I had several years ago. Especially, because of the arm fracture I suffered at that time. I rode the ground on my right side with my right arm pinned under my head and my feet still clipped into the pedals. I could feel the asphalt grinding out the flesh on my inner elbow as my head rested on it. I remember calmly and clearly thinking how much it hurt, but the force was too strong for me to release it out from under my head and let my helmet take the brunt of it. All of my injuries in the impacted limbs are telling the same story. I could be wrong though, and it still doesn't matter. Life happens.<br> </span></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As part of the pain control for shoulder surgery, the anesthesiologist inserts a catheter which feeds Ropivacaine into the arm to numb it. I don't think mine ever did work very well. I woke up screaming in pain in the recovery room and that is something I just <i>do not do</i>. I kept telling them stories about how tough I was. I have no idea why. I guess I wanted them to take it seriously. They did.</span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I also told them several times and had a band reading tape allergy. They taped it anyway. Last night it had to come out. Prematurely. The tape has already begun to blister my skin. You can see the redness in the photo. Maybe even some of the blistering. Now all I have to do is try to keep myself from scratching it. So hard. It itches!</span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1SG790NwAEqN-dZB3LOO-_pZ4QcBRVc9NPS2RWXcSDcQKBsvzjCB0CMp1jX1ek23FuJDrXofxBc6MfCJ5l_IWwyRbD4gR3hWxzvzbwpFWgpoS232TL9pUTSK4-5_uD-DAvJFkS0rYxXA/s1600/309057_10150932976435393_1932092919_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1SG790NwAEqN-dZB3LOO-_pZ4QcBRVc9NPS2RWXcSDcQKBsvzjCB0CMp1jX1ek23FuJDrXofxBc6MfCJ5l_IWwyRbD4gR3hWxzvzbwpFWgpoS232TL9pUTSK4-5_uD-DAvJFkS0rYxXA/s320/309057_10150932976435393_1932092919_n.jpg" width="320"></span></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">The good news is that all of the rest since surgery and probably some of the drugs has eliminated my right hip pain for now. I'll take it! <br>So what is next on the agenda? Well I am hoping against all odds and common sense that I will be out of the sling and able to lead the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/880251185340151" target="_blank">Christmas Light Ride</a>. This is completely free bike ride around town to look at Christmas lights. Everyone decorates themselves and their bikes. It's a blast! </span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; font-weight: bold;">
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The big race is coming February 27th. The <a href="http://www.thegushermarathon.com/" target="_blank">Exygon & Baptist Hospitals Gusher Marathon, Exxpess Mart Half Marathon and Kinsel Ford 5K</a> featuring the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/headsortailscyclingTT" target="_blank">ExxonMobil Heads or Tails Cycling Time Trial</a>. Hopes and prayers that my limbs are strong enough to make it through the beast. It's a big event, with little rest, long hours and physical requirements. I'm very grateful for all of the volunteers. These changes would not be happening in SETX without you. I am reminded of that every day. It's a beautiful thing."</span><br>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
</div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">12/11/2015 Right Hip Post Op Week 17/Left Hip Post Op Week 10 /Right Shoulder 4 Weeks.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A month has passed since shoulder surgery. </span><br>
<span style="color: red; font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Thoughts on shoulder arthroscopy:</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">*Fingers can go to sleep? What time is it? 3AM. I want to straighten my elbow<br>*Did she not see me trying to get through the door with one arm?<br>*Hand nerves, quit randomly dropping my keys. It's embarassing. Look at him smiling while repeatedly picking them up. Nice guy. Bet he's good with babies.<br>*I love you, Netflix.<br>*Will I ever be able to put my hair in a ponytail again?<br>*Wiping with my non-dominant hand is unsatisfactory.<br>*Handwashing involves getting up on my tiptoes and leaning my whole body over the sink. Tall sinks demand acrobatics. I will not skip handwashing!<br>*Getting in and out of the sling is like strapping into Nascar.<br>*Does every shirt I own pull over my head? Most button-up shirts do need to be ironed. I hate ironing.<br>*I'll never get these underwear situated.<br>*Jean pockets, stay right side in...please. </span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">*At least I have an excuse to skip the bra. Can anyone tell I'm not wearing a bra?<br>*I wonder how long my underarm hair will grow? I've never actually seen it at its full ginger glory.<br>*Humidity, wonderful. Hmmm...risk damaging the surgery to put my hair in braids or just leave the house looking like My Little Pony.<br>*No, I can't meet you for lunch, because I eat like a toddler with my left hand. </span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">*HOW CAN NOT MOVING MY ARM HURT SO MUCH???!!<br>*I'm getting out of this sling. <br>*I need this sling.<br>*I'm getting out of this sling.<br>*I need this sling. <br>*I'm getting out of this sling.<br>*Flip flops go with dress pants, right?</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">*I throw like a girl with my left hand.<br>*Quit looking at me with scorn, Diesel! I know I can't throw your tennis ball for crap!<br>*I wonder how long I can get away with not wearing a bra? <br>*Left-handed people of the world -passenger side seatbelts, passenger side car doors, scissors, light switches, right-side toilet paper holders- I'm sorry I haven't been more sympathetic.<br>*I should hold the door open for that stranger. She looks like her arm hurts. I wonder if she is left-handed. Oh she is! Peace out, my sister. I share your struggle. </span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<b>12/12/2015 </b><br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4JgpdRIo0ESwwerWRo_azBMaRqbv9yKVfGfw7l4YZ-mjoRJQYCrizetAFak6OdggaQzLK13Q46QOaCdwVp-TkPgLJ_L9VcjyW91pR45IoyIm-xtrI70_Xaw0h42JTsJ95ixU0TkCm_iE/s1600/lion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4JgpdRIo0ESwwerWRo_azBMaRqbv9yKVfGfw7l4YZ-mjoRJQYCrizetAFak6OdggaQzLK13Q46QOaCdwVp-TkPgLJ_L9VcjyW91pR45IoyIm-xtrI70_Xaw0h42JTsJ95ixU0TkCm_iE/s320/lion.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
<span style="background-color: #e0edff; color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 13.9636px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 13.9636px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had a disappointing appointment with the orthopedic surgeon on Thursday. It's taken me until now to be able to talk about it. I'm in chronic pain due to the stage 3 osteoarthritis, but I'm too young for a hip replacement. Even if I opted for a hip replacement, he says I cannot run on it. I cried all day long between visiting gyms, marketing Sports Society events in Lake Charles. 9-11 years of being in more pain and limited in what I can do does not appeal to me. I'm considering my own bone marrow for stem cell. It's expensive and not covered by insurance, but Rich and I both feel it is my only hope. I'm considering hosting a 5K to help cover expenses. A few close friends suggested setting up a donation page, but I feel like I'd rather do something that helps other people improve their own health, decrease their own risk of osteoarthritis. I'm a doer by nature.
I'm afraid people will think I'm selfish for doing so and not support it. I'm a little fragile emotionally. This has been a hard hit to take. I've still not come to total grips with it. It's so unfair. I'm no stranger to chronic pain. I lived with stage 4 endometriosis. I ran three ultras, one marathon, several halves, raced triathlons, cycled thousands of miles, among other things with chronic pain. I can ignore a lot of pain. I cannot ignore this pain. I'm fighting back, but it is making my life smaller. </span></span><br>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 13.9636px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 13.9636px; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I got the news, I died a little inside. I'm logical though. I've been reading a lot of medical research and talking to people who have tried the treatment. My own stem cell could help. Should help. At least there is an option. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 13.9636px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am battling not to feel sorry for myself. I know I'm fortunate. I know people face bigger battles. It isn't that I think I should be grateful because some people have it worse. It is that I think I should be stronger because people face much bigger adversities with the hearts of lions.</span><br>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 13.9636px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 13.9636px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span>
<br>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 18.48px;">
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">12/21/2015 Right Hip Post Op Week 19/Left Hip Post Op Week 13 /Right Shoulder 6 Weeks.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<br></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDd3SZUKZnEXDujVHNq2Pcd1hGTcP4tqw7ZX_qmrtQA3FKavTO3QeUSSA23C5xiJHjmkziO1sJiu_K_t7Ls8kAfdwKkrxdQEZ04cCAMCbYf1tHNDFkGmhxY7n_dKbYHZiKs1Q1605HiOE/s1600/12370988_1078493355518850_1362853987975904556_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #7c93a1; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDd3SZUKZnEXDujVHNq2Pcd1hGTcP4tqw7ZX_qmrtQA3FKavTO3QeUSSA23C5xiJHjmkziO1sJiu_K_t7Ls8kAfdwKkrxdQEZ04cCAMCbYf1tHNDFkGmhxY7n_dKbYHZiKs1Q1605HiOE/s320/12370988_1078493355518850_1362853987975904556_o.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="320"></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzbKPrwbXnmko4K0R7W676lFEX-9XQ_5OVUECTFO1LVEcUSmL0wAZ9b3xSEhhJpx4npKP0j1V4J75Hj6YGhFdbuSL2xuKlKCTfwUh8NK4qQmvLVR05FXBIKVeJ62oeEMdyJwBnAqifkYc/s1600/12376580_10205714912651539_4123749395895080904_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #7c93a1; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzbKPrwbXnmko4K0R7W676lFEX-9XQ_5OVUECTFO1LVEcUSmL0wAZ9b3xSEhhJpx4npKP0j1V4J75Hj6YGhFdbuSL2xuKlKCTfwUh8NK4qQmvLVR05FXBIKVeJ62oeEMdyJwBnAqifkYc/s320/12376580_10205714912651539_4123749395895080904_n.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="320"></a>My brain and my body have been fighting all week. On Tuesday I went to the social run at On The Run-Beaumont, the local running store. On Thursday I hosted the Christmas Light Ride. On Friday I went to the GTS Tacky Sweater Run My brain loved it. <i>Social time doing some of my favorite activities with my favorite people!</i> My body loved it less. I've paid for it in hip pain. Emotionally, it was worth every moment of doing the work I love and being with people I enjoy. Physically, it was draining.<br>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br></span></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuKzU9_I_izXmLNxLX4CLoeFaeX7bGubQrt4Im-1PVI089z7Q5B8rLXQd66-g3YM1oOfQwf3v0fCBsJsA0FJTl6rYs7WQpr5Ap7AzN4gBoDWfsVdhFOG4WjTDdQ_WL_NJuNXor1wwQw60/s1600/10504984_1047878395268762_4068782479785786533_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #7c93a1; float: right; font-weight: bold; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuKzU9_I_izXmLNxLX4CLoeFaeX7bGubQrt4Im-1PVI089z7Q5B8rLXQd66-g3YM1oOfQwf3v0fCBsJsA0FJTl6rYs7WQpr5Ap7AzN4gBoDWfsVdhFOG4WjTDdQ_WL_NJuNXor1wwQw60/s320/10504984_1047878395268762_4068782479785786533_o.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;" width="320"></a>I keep trying to go to the gym, do activities, that will rebuild joint protective muscle. I do believe this is an extremely important process for healing. I have been gentle, but all activity seems to be punishing. It's very frustrating.<br>
<br>
I've not been sitting around feeling sorry for myself though. I've been actively pursuing stem cell. Just so there is no misunderstanding, these are <b><i>my own cells </i></b>from <b><i>my own bone marrow </i></b>used to rebuild cartilage. The orthopedic surgeon removed the impingements and other knobby, hateful things chewing away at my articular cartilage. That's great. It should slow or stop any more damage. What I seek now, is a way to improve/repair the damage that has been done. That's where stem cell comes into the picture. It isn't that I expect it to return my joints to normal. It is that it has the potential to make small improvements to my damage which will should reduce pain and restore mobility. I have my first appointment with a stem cell facility today. I'm nervous. I'm emotionally invested. I want it to work. So you must be thinking, "What about placebo effect, Amie? How do you know it won't simply be a matter of your emotions wanting it to work so badly that you ignore it if it doesn't work?"<br>
<br>
I can't. I can't ignore the golf ball sized swelling that remains on my lateral right hip. I can't ignore the atrophy in my right gluteal. I can't ignore pain that only allows me 4 hours of sleep a night, <i>with medication</i>. I wish I could. If I could there would be no point in writing this blog. I'd be out riding my mountain bike, running the roads, swimming across lakes and kayaking with the alligators. :-) So wish me luck and stay tuned for details. I plan to share my entire experience through this new leg of my journey.<br>
<br>
P.S. Pun intended. </div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 18.48px;">
<br></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 18.48px;">
<b>1:36PM</b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 18.48px;">
I've met the doc and had prolotherapy which I will explain in more detail a little later. Right now I have approximately 50cc's of fluid (dextrose solution) spread around the joint capsule, tendons and muscle tissue. OUCH! I feel like this:<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMfao-wscPwmPFy16rNsovWQIF7i_QZNGb2KTsinz4Y3hfWqC_-Bh9_QM25jl5D1oLwoBINjpBX8oaPBfxMvGpPl9JnzznZjInpxyCiCJw0gXbxaAiQqQ3cfYM7rhay9x5YswuwnIA3h0/s640/blogger-image--1572012133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #7c93a1; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMfao-wscPwmPFy16rNsovWQIF7i_QZNGb2KTsinz4Y3hfWqC_-Bh9_QM25jl5D1oLwoBINjpBX8oaPBfxMvGpPl9JnzznZjInpxyCiCJw0gXbxaAiQqQ3cfYM7rhay9x5YswuwnIA3h0/s640/blogger-image--1572012133.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 1px solid rgb(238, 238, 238); box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0980392) 1px 1px 5px; padding: 5px; position: relative;"></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b>12/22/2015 The Morning After Prolotherapy. </b>I'm doing well. It feels a little like my gluteals have been used as a speed bag, but I'm able to move around surprisingly well. I've been ordered to rest this week. I'm not a great rester, but I'm going to work very hard to be compliant with this request as it is important to let a healing reaction take place and not arrest the process with joint use.</div>
So what is prolotherapy and why is it a step in reducing joint pain? Prolotherapy involves injecting a joint or tissue with an irritating solution, such as dextrose, to trigger a healing response. It is reportedly useful for tightening loose ligaments and improving tendon pain. It causes inflammation, which is a painful, but necessary step in the healing process.<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Think about what happens after you cut your finger. The wound bleeds, turns bright red, gets puffy and starts to heal. Think about what would happen if you kept cutting your finger. Instead of healing with a pretty smooth tissue that eventually fades into your skin, the wound would most likely heal with thick, gnarled scar tissue. This is what can happen to tendons if they are injured and not allowed adequate healing time. It's very difficult to complete rest tendons, especially if you don't realize they are in jeopardy. (This holds water theoretically at least. Medicine is a rapidly changing science so remember we only know what we think we know.) Thickened scar tissue contracts the skin around it. It is tight, less flexible and doesn't do the job as well as the tissue it replaces. Imagine the impact this has on movement, the joint and the tissues around the thickened scar tissue. It can cause pain. Using prolotherapy gives my body another chance to kick start the healing process and try again to lay down smooth, more supple scar tissue, the type of tissue that will function more like the original material.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
Ligament laxity, ligaments are strong fibrous bands designed to connect bone to bone. They can be injured much like tendons. When they are injured, the muscles around them contract and work to do the job of the ligament. Muscles are designed to do some of this work anyway, so it is not a stretch to see how muscles can become recruited and overworked if the ligament is not performing. According to my doctor, having a loose ligament is sort of like having a tire out of true. Instead of rotating the entire surface on the roadway, it wobbles a bit making contact in patchy areas. If you think about how a joint is designed to work, you can see why having uneven contact is a problem. Prolotherapy has been shown to improve ligament tension which helps get the joint back into its correct rotation. I've had the surgery to remove bone spurs, so getting the femoral head rotating smoothly and evenly in the hip could be beneficial to my body. (Again, this is medical theory. We only know what we know.) According to my doc, failing to tighten the ligament before using stem cell, would probably result in a less successful procedure.</div>
<br>
So now I wait. I've heard rumor that a study will be released in 2016 showing that prolotherapy alone can allow the body to produce more joint cartilage. Maybe prolotherapy will be all I need. I won't know without a few weeks to see how I respond. My doc is fond of reminding me that I think like a nurse. That what we've all been taught is cartilage in the joint is what prevents joint pain. He indicates that there is probably more to it. So theoretically, it is possible to have an improvement in cartilage, but not necessarily an improvement in pain. That's a scary thought. It's also possible. I know this from reading medical research on endometriosis. It is well known that different stages of endometriosis are not necessarily correspondingly painful. In other words, a patient with stage 4 endometriosis found during surgery may experience mild pain, whereas a patient with stage 2 endometriosis may have much higher levels of pain. This baffled medical science for a number of years. Until it was discovered that those rogue endometrial implants can develop their own nerve supply. For more on innervation of endometriosis read <a href="http://www.pnas.org/content/101/30/11094.long" style="color: #7c93a1; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">here:</a><br>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
I'm hopeful though. Even if an improvement in cartilage fails to provide an improvement in pain, it could still allow me to keep my joint long enough to be a candidate for a hip replacement. Not what I'm after, but I'll take what I can get. </div>
</div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 13.9636px; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">1/21/2016 Right Hip Post Op Week 23/Left Hip Post Op Week 17 /Right Shoulder 10 Weeks.</span><br><span style="background-color: cyan;">STEM CELL-MY OWN, from my bone marrow, known as autologous stem cell transplantation.</span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: cyan; color: #990000;"><br></span></span><span style="background-color: white;">It's been four weeks since prolotherapy. I thought I would take a moment to catch you up on what has happened. Pictures blow:</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">1. I learned a little bit about welding with the help of my friend Robert and started making a miniature oil derrick for the upcoming <a href="http://www.thegushermarathon.com/" target="_blank">Gusher Marathon</a>.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">2. I walked the <a href="http://www.searimstriders.org/home.php" target="_blank">Sea Rim Striders</a> annual New Year's Resolution Run and had a ball with my friends at the club sponsored breakfast afterward. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">2. Richard, my husband, ran the 2016 Chevron Houston Marathon in my honor. <i> I had no idea he was going to do that.</i> <i>He's just precious! </i> I originally registered to run the full myself in January of 2015, but three joint surgeries threw a little monkey wrench into my plans, so optimistically, I am now registered for the half marathon distance of the 2017 race. (What do runners do when they can't train? Why, sign up for races they can't run of course!) </span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">4. And finally, we got a wonderful behind the scenes look from the people that make the Chevron Houston Marathon that included hearing from the volunteer that suggested the blue cones. Blue is Houston's color and she thought they would look incredible in the photos instead of the regular orange cones. She was right. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<br></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-rS4ZkYyg8OSvc6xg9wnkNJ6db9KhCrqM4NYCQK2E4ZQ9PuAF27jcgOKxIKBlyZfyjCEWKYp-SZEbl9Eqahnu0lOVdQ8tAcuK9SGAY7P7uEhe5aGA1XVjtmflTOBPsAgEvjXOBRxCBLY/s1600/Welding+gusher.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-rS4ZkYyg8OSvc6xg9wnkNJ6db9KhCrqM4NYCQK2E4ZQ9PuAF27jcgOKxIKBlyZfyjCEWKYp-SZEbl9Eqahnu0lOVdQ8tAcuK9SGAY7P7uEhe5aGA1XVjtmflTOBPsAgEvjXOBRxCBLY/s320/Welding+gusher.JPG" width="240"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-wOOxCqzToSGueBw61IFe4l_se2rFKWdGnXgZ9mUuZkPhfjqIdm6D_iFr4vomXrlaSpCvY3wS77Fr94vD0kLjOvIxMG7Eg-8druFKsS76xdO1RXWVG55jVdT3ch1_ysYFJFQ4We1QyS8/s1600/2016+Res+Run.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-wOOxCqzToSGueBw61IFe4l_se2rFKWdGnXgZ9mUuZkPhfjqIdm6D_iFr4vomXrlaSpCvY3wS77Fr94vD0kLjOvIxMG7Eg-8druFKsS76xdO1RXWVG55jVdT3ch1_ysYFJFQ4We1QyS8/s320/2016+Res+Run.JPG" width="240"></a><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJKmPcCrZQESPwXIXcLZJ38aiuFm9hQjFPILmq5LcDyiuixTd78qVw16y_qGkqcp9a2LKcn7shzMZaIgc8Gx6C7uKBR9FbVDjqUVQ9opfgRxKb4GqF0lDBm5DN0WiPFLi2vCkKC-pk8jI/s320/2016+Houston+Rich+shirt+front.JPG" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;" width="240"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcFHtiyzWMHQwpL6AXLxr0SrZdb5Mf8eLsCq0huFrlBDbF5qOzlAKSZ1AYZnvd4ypiqJC4EeoimRIoJBIlXXzd3Ym-PNtaJuC2GJ-tqM7TM9ZNMJLh-VzzbRHdswrdxKUGf-uAMRohSLk/s1600/2016+Houston+Marathon+finish+Rich+%2526+Amie.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcFHtiyzWMHQwpL6AXLxr0SrZdb5Mf8eLsCq0huFrlBDbF5qOzlAKSZ1AYZnvd4ypiqJC4EeoimRIoJBIlXXzd3Ym-PNtaJuC2GJ-tqM7TM9ZNMJLh-VzzbRHdswrdxKUGf-uAMRohSLk/s320/2016+Houston+Marathon+finish+Rich+%2526+Amie.JPG" width="320"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsNSnbTDrq_tqgvEvZzk2N4djlDLuT2QJ1Y6MSsA-OwoMpS6Ly0sBLCAMuUqx1ah1fRNSaLMneWcmnUSEXNRyYeA4GgEtlVndl9CEVGcRgZx_4erPFkv90HGccdQ1DTx6WbrwTR-EdW-k/s1600/2016+Houston+Marathon+Rich+shirt+back.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsNSnbTDrq_tqgvEvZzk2N4djlDLuT2QJ1Y6MSsA-OwoMpS6Ly0sBLCAMuUqx1ah1fRNSaLMneWcmnUSEXNRyYeA4GgEtlVndl9CEVGcRgZx_4erPFkv90HGccdQ1DTx6WbrwTR-EdW-k/s320/2016+Houston+Marathon+Rich+shirt+back.JPG" width="240"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigM_7O5pcrcutSf87C9003Iyxq4Ib0Ic9bFcROegHLn89gVvl29ThMJlpsD0ngpVYQuNtFjhR1CmQ6DI54I6uJnM4JitnUF5sApXxjs-8d4JGvkBrbCGjd7S8-IxziHVeCxVSjgfJ_nIU/s1600/2016+Houston+Marathon+blue+cone.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigM_7O5pcrcutSf87C9003Iyxq4Ib0Ic9bFcROegHLn89gVvl29ThMJlpsD0ngpVYQuNtFjhR1CmQ6DI54I6uJnM4JitnUF5sApXxjs-8d4JGvkBrbCGjd7S8-IxziHVeCxVSjgfJ_nIU/s320/2016+Houston+Marathon+blue+cone.JPG" width="240"></a></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<br></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="background-color: white;">Now to get to what you want to know-</span><span style="background-color: yellow;">Has prolotherapy make a difference in my continuing right hip pain? </span><span style="background-color: white;">I delayed writing this part of the blog for as long as possible so I could give a deep and honest answer. The answer is no, not exactly. I did have a couple of days with less pain. The sharp, stabbing, burning pains that have been my near constant companions for almost four years receded a bit and that was pretty nice. I had a few days where I needed less pain management. The TENS unit with no medication or plain Tylenol instead of something stronger, I was a big fan of that, but realistically, I did not get enough relief to imagine a life without pain control, even if I refrained from all of the activities I love; running, swimming, cycling, lifting, mountain biking, kayaking, skating, etc. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><b><br></b></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcFHtiyzWMHQwpL6AXLxr0SrZdb5Mf8eLsCq0huFrlBDbF5qOzlAKSZ1AYZnvd4ypiqJC4EeoimRIoJBIlXXzd3Ym-PNtaJuC2GJ-tqM7TM9ZNMJLh-VzzbRHdswrdxKUGf-uAMRohSLk/s1600/2016+Houston+Marathon+finish+Rich+%2526+Amie.JPG" imageanchor="1"></a></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<b><span style="background-color: white;">It was fairly discouraging. Now what? Did I charge on to stem cell, an expensive process, and hope for the best? Did I see this as a sign that to do anything more would be unhelpful? Rich and I spent a lot of time talking about the pros and cons as we saw them with Rich consistently taking the position that any hope of rebuilding cartilage and/or reducing pain was worth a shot. (Those two things are not necessarily related. According to my doc, medical science doesn't know exactly what causes joint pain in relation to cartilage or exactly how stem cell transplantation seems to reduce the pain. It could be by causing cartilage regrowth or it could be a healing process with the nerves. ) My position came with less clarity. It felt unfair to my husband to spend another $6,000 of our family budget on something that might not help me at all, even though he was not complaining. It was hard, hoping autologous stem cell might give me my pain free life back, but also knowing if I tried and it didn't work that I would out of options. <i> Holding on to unspent hope is pricele</i>ss. </span></b><b style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"><span style="background-color: white;">In the end, we decided to go for it.</span></b></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<b style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br></span></b></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<b><u style="background-color: cyan;">BILATERAL HIP AUTOLOGOUS STEM CELL TRANSPLANTATION.</u></b><span style="background-color: white;"><br></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<b><span style="background-color: cyan;"><span style="color: #990000;"><u><br></u></span></span></b></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="color: #990000; text-decoration: underline;"><span style="background-color: cyan;">THE PROCEDURE:</span></span><br>
<span style="background-color: white;">I signed the necessary forms to give consent for the procedure and underwent two blood draws. I'm not sure of the exact amount of blood they took, but it looked like 20-25 vials of 4-5cc's so I'm guessing about a 125mls tops, which I won't even notice is missing. <b> They use the blood as a medium for the the stem cells. They want the growth factors out of the plasma. The med techs actually process it to look for the amount of growth factors in the plasma before the next step of the procedure. I had 7 times the average amount. </b><i style="font-weight: bold;"> Go me! </i><b> </b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br><b>Next, they had me lie down on my stomach with my hips propped up on a pillow as they sterilized the area. I was wearing a hospital gown. They did let me keep my underwear on. Surprising, how comforting it is to be allowed to retain your underwear during a procedure. It's the little things. </b> (<---Gratuitous pun.)<br><b>(Tip-ladies, wear a thong. Gentlemen, I guess you could too.) </b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><br></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="background-color: white;"> Doc chose to extract marrow from my left hip. He injected lidocaine to numb the tissue full to the full depth of the gluteal, down to the surface of the bone. Once the area is deadened, they use a drill, moving through the layers of gluteal muscle, to penetrate the bone. Unfortunately for me, this is where things went wrong. Despite trying two rounds of lidocaine, I didn't quite deaden properly. ( </span><span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"><span style="background-color: white;">This is highly unusual so don't worry about it. It WILL NOT happen to you.) </span></span><span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"><span style="background-color: white;"> I felt sharp penetrating pain, heat and pressure. @#*%$@#<i>!</i> I was suddenly aware of a bone I did not want to be aware of. I tensed my upper body while trying to keep my lower body still and relaxed. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br></span></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i>It hurt! </i>My face turned red. I tried not to cry. Tears left my eyes against my will. Because we'd just watched </span></span><span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"><span style="background-color: white;">"The Revenant", my colorful imagination quickly pictured the tail end of an arrow swaying from my backside. <i>Don't move your gluteal, Amie. Hold the arrow still! (Ha Ha, very funny brain.) Don't quit breathing. Don't squeeze, breathe, don't squeeze, breathe. </i> </span></span><span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"><span style="background-color: white;">Once they penetrated the soft gooey center of the bone, they slowly extracted stem cell rich bone marrow. </span></span><span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"><span style="background-color: white;"> He had to drill in a few of spots to get enough marrow. </span></span><span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"><span style="background-color: white;"> They were very caring. I refused to quit. In about ten minutes it was over and I was able to look back over my shoulder to assure myself there</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"> really wasn't an arrow dangling from my ass. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhsGbHTI6qwiwJdXn7cwQO3SAhCRkaivj1KYSBIvOwvTNWyK68eeC2NHM2fFaD3G6qsCP_iSe2d_CFE9VTkp4filNLgD8HzeowNKOA4JQ8fX-Kka1n9Vsngxel2ikl9vwnNNTWXJUUfKo/s1600/Racoon+alligator.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhsGbHTI6qwiwJdXn7cwQO3SAhCRkaivj1KYSBIvOwvTNWyK68eeC2NHM2fFaD3G6qsCP_iSe2d_CFE9VTkp4filNLgD8HzeowNKOA4JQ8fX-Kka1n9Vsngxel2ikl9vwnNNTWXJUUfKo/s400/Racoon+alligator.JPG" width="350"></a><span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">After a few minutes, I sat up and drank a little water. I'd had the fire knocked out of me and there was still more to come. The marrow was tested for stem cells. According the tech I had plenty and they were beautiful, meaning thick and well-formed. I had 4.5 million stem cells in the volume measured compared to the average of 3.5 million. So far I was exceeding the average levels for both stem cells and growth factors. Great! </span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;"><br></span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">And just like that, it was over. I've been ordered to rest for the next two weeks. Lying down is better than sitting, sitting is better than standing, crutches are better than full weight-bearing. "Rest, rest, rest," they insisted. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<b style="font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">I'll be climbing the walls in about three days. I did get permission to get into the pool after the first week is over. I don't feel much like going anywhere today. My butt hurts. :-)</b></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<br></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #373e4d; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 13.9636px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br></span>
<br>
<br></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: normal; line-height: 18.48px;">
<div style="background-color: white; font-size: 13.2px; font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: yellow; font-size: medium;"><br></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-size: 13.2px; font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: yellow; font-size: medium;">2/17/2016 Day 29 Post Stem Cell</span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-size: 13.2px; font-weight: bold;">
<br></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-size: 13.2px; font-weight: bold;">
<br></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU9RztAUaOWmjwIFYVr4gM_47Kzix6gjVDvFQIygjWVXOODtfAEDgylExT1GG73PdNDyMhfICKrnYhIKS0dzkF43MAjs8pu5KHagRsmWV82MGrh4_t6_KoRYDrxUj10pcibphcuTMstrw/s640/blogger-image--1844300144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU9RztAUaOWmjwIFYVr4gM_47Kzix6gjVDvFQIygjWVXOODtfAEDgylExT1GG73PdNDyMhfICKrnYhIKS0dzkF43MAjs8pu5KHagRsmWV82MGrh4_t6_KoRYDrxUj10pcibphcuTMstrw/s640/blogger-image--1844300144.jpg"></a></div>
<br></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<i><b>I</b></i><b><i>f you are following this blog because you're in the same predicament, it might be time to get your hopes up. </i></b></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<br></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
Granted, I'm not pushing my body. I am gently and slowly returning to exercise per doctor's orders. So while this is not a true measure of where things stand, it is improvement. The pain was so bad before that I couldn't sit or stand without being miserable. Lying down on my back was about the only position that gave me a modicum of relief and even then the pain was still terrible.</div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<br></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
Every single minute of every day was pain. That is starting to flip. It's pain less often now. It's still every day pain, but it's not <i>all</i> day pain. The last three days I've really noticed a difference. The intensity is certainly starting to decrease too. It's not as soul grinding as it was.</div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
<br></div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
My sacroiliac area is currently the most fussy (before it was SI, the center of my glute, my groin, and my lateral hip and thigh.) I'm not out of the woods yet, but I'm getting a little more optimistic that this might actually work. Fingers crossed!</div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
</div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
P.S. I mentioned stem cell to an old cycling and genuine hippie friend. He quipped that I should call him when they start offering stem cell of the brain. Ha! Me too, Wayne. Me too. In the meantime, may we enjoy not remembering........</div>
<div style="color: #222222;">
What were we talking about?</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-weight: bold;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: yellow; color: #ffd966;"><br></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-weight: bold;"><span style="background-color: #351c75; color: white;">2/2/2016 Right Hip Post Op Week 25/Left Hip Post Op Week 19/Right Shoulder 12 Weeks/Bilateral Stem Cell Hips 12 Days<br>Bilateral Growth Factor Injections into the Hip Capsules.</span></span><br>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<span style="background-color: white;">12 days? Has it really only been 12 days since I had stem cell? It feels like it has been months. It's been a painful 12 days, even more painful than normal. The left hip flared up after stem cell and settled down within a few days. The worst part of the left side was an allergy I had to the tape they used for a pressure bandage where they extracted the marrow. Redness, itching, blisters-I knew I was in trouble when it woke me up that night. (Yes, I told them I had a tape allergy, but it happened and they weren't trying to hurt me.) My friend Aimee Coco suggested using Milk of Magnesia on the rash. That works great. If you ever have a tape allergy, this remedy is worth a try. It still takes 3-5 days to settle down, but the MoM dried it out and made it less intolerable.)</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5UCMCxS7CRfv6G_Q4-_u5rBC8rR9TFFJqArhyphenhyphenRmIa76NFvEzH-fjfsG9CulM60pxbTtd7exW114o2hI_60N0u5ValHCG86VUVEtt5UgB5sIWSEZeN6rgAM3z1L-tvnGOy2d7gpbBTTu4/s1600/mosquito.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5UCMCxS7CRfv6G_Q4-_u5rBC8rR9TFFJqArhyphenhyphenRmIa76NFvEzH-fjfsG9CulM60pxbTtd7exW114o2hI_60N0u5ValHCG86VUVEtt5UgB5sIWSEZeN6rgAM3z1L-tvnGOy2d7gpbBTTu4/s320/mosquito.jpg" width="320"></a><span style="background-color: white;"><br>The right hip has been a different story. It never settled down. The already painful right hip just become more painful. Inflammation is a welcome reaction with stem cell, so all of the usual things used to combat it are prohibited. No NSAIDS, no antihistamines, no cortisone, no ice-no fun. Still, if this worked in the long run, short-term misery would be entirely worth it. I would grit my teeth and only take stronger, prescription meds when I absolutely couldn't take it anymore. I went in for my appointment today to receive more growth factors dreading more injections into my already sore and miserable right hip.<br><br>This time as she drew my blood, I asked exactly how much she was taking. She took 42-8ml tubes of blood. Like, I've said before, this part is painless and easy. I don't even notice it. After separating the plasma, which contains growth factors, they inject it-using ultrasound guidance- into my hip joints. The left side was easy. The right side hurt so badly I tried to tap out on the exam table. Jesusmarymotherofchrist, I don't think this is normal. I think a lot of people find this process easy. My right hip is unusually aggravated. Don't let my experience scare you. </span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-weight: bold;"><br></span><span style="background-color: white; font-weight: bold;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Now I wait. It could be as long as 9 months before I see any improvement. I hope not. Say a prayer, cross your fingers, do a stem cell dance-I could use the positive thoughts.</span><br><br><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I did mention the intense chronic burning in my lateral right thigh. The doc quickly latched onto it and said he felt it was neuropathic pain caused by the surgical incision. He said he has had a lot of success using subcutaneous prolotherapy for this type of pain. It told him to go for it. He injected dextrose right under the skin in about fifteen spots. That burned. </span><i style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">They challenge my naturally cool exterior</i><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">. I could tell when he was on an area of irritation when the burning intensified. Fingers crossed that this will help touo! I'd hate to think I went through all of this pain and expense not to be pain free or a little bit better looking. :-)</span><br><span style="background-color: #9fc5e8;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;"><br></span></span></span><br>
<div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7C7ECZKrnAFvskqkqp9b5FeRL6Ajfgn9f1nxd02uXP5bNzQu_4CzVWryVHrNjRPA6ZQH2Ag1NTeBrAJWpT8qviOp3BOJQJamnG9rHzjJU5NqKh1V8TCHizDvIWLuw64dbo32X7t02Yio/s1600/migraine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7C7ECZKrnAFvskqkqp9b5FeRL6Ajfgn9f1nxd02uXP5bNzQu_4CzVWryVHrNjRPA6ZQH2Ag1NTeBrAJWpT8qviOp3BOJQJamnG9rHzjJU5NqKh1V8TCHizDvIWLuw64dbo32X7t02Yio/s400/migraine.jpg" width="276"></a><span style="line-height: 18.48px;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;">2 Days After Bilateral Hip Capsule Growth Factor Injections.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-weight: bold;"><br><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><i>What doesn't make you stronger kills you. Did I die? </i> Last night little psychedelic rainbows flitted into my vision and proceeded to tap dance on my head. That dreaded M word, the mother of all bad words, had struck. <MIGRAINE> Nausea, vomiting, aura, light sensitivity-the whole nine yards. Hip capsule injections give me a headache each time, but this was the first full blown migraine. The injections make my knees, neck and ankles hurt too. Nerves work through chemical messengers. I can only assume this process increases inflammation and lets loose a flood of chemical messengers that proceeded to party on my soul. Bastards. It will get better. It might even get better forever. I'm holding onto my hope. </span></span><br>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<br></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<br></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<u>5 Day</u><u>s Later</u>.<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbZhxlJ552IpH3GUlGeJHMRZrH8oBLPqy_Q__tC3yEypBCYjADSMhVsWhg0WT9ULYfeArkmqzcwrKKfYoXdpBXmoxkZDjbQTmktz30Z356nO5cIpYFzxKBVsuH8DOdWKWQsOLfn-mVi4/s640/blogger-image--1791975283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbZhxlJ552IpH3GUlGeJHMRZrH8oBLPqy_Q__tC3yEypBCYjADSMhVsWhg0WT9ULYfeArkmqzcwrKKfYoXdpBXmoxkZDjbQTmktz30Z356nO5cIpYFzxKBVsuH8DOdWKWQsOLfn-mVi4/s640/blogger-image--1791975283.jpg"></a></div>
</div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<br></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
Friday night my right hip burned and ached so intensely that I couldn't be caged up with it for another minute. Rich was asleep and I was not waking him up. The man needs his sleep. This is as hard on him as it is on me. Nothing he could do for me anyway. So I got in my car and spent three hours driving responsibly and listening to music. Driving hurts. Sitting is torture. Solo focus on the pain is worse. I'd rather be driving. Really I'd rather be running, cycling, kayaking or swimming, but driving would do. When the pain gets this bad for this long, I understand why people cannot face a lifetime of chronic pain. </div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<br></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
This entire hip experience has brought me as close to feeling hopeless as I ever want to feel. I pray technology makes major leaps in our current methods of pain control. I have a lot of empathy now for chronic pain sufferers. The options aren't good. The drugs are short-acting, mind-altering and chock-full of nasty side effects. But chronic, unrelenting pain will chew apart your soul. It's the proverbial rock and a hard place. </div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
<br></div>
<div style="font-weight: bold;">
More than anything, I think this drove me to seek stem cell the most. The moment is forever solidified in my mind when the orthopedic surgeon's PA said, "There is nothing more we can do for you. Would you like a script for hydrocodone?" <i>Would this be my life? Coping with pain? Using meds? Waiting for the next script? Would I become addicted? Would the windows of being Me get smaller and smaller until I was mostly The Drugs? No, thank you!</i></div>
</div>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br>
<div style="font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: medium;">I thought through all of this as I drove. The hardest part about the unknown is that there are no answers. I came home and fell asleep around 4AM. Surprisingly, I felt less pain when I woke up. Yesterday I was able to go to the store, get healthy foods and cook. From a low to a high! I was taking care of myself, us, again. The rest of the day wasn't bad. The pain never crescendoed to a decibel that demands either it or me live in my skin. It stayed a nice steady hum. I slept on a heating pad last night and again, I woke up with it manageable. Maybe, maybe this is the beginning of the end. I know it's still a long way to go, but maybe I can at least believe I'm on the right road.</span></span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: medium;"><br></span></span>
<br>
<div style="color: #222222; font-size: medium; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: medium;"></span></span><br>
<div style="color: #222222; font-size: medium; line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: yellow;">4/17/2017</span><br><span style="background-color: white;">I'm about 12 weeks post stem cell now. If you haven't read the blog (and there is a lot to read) I had three joint surgeries before stem cell starting in August of 2015 and ending in November of 2015, then I followed up with prolotherapy and stem cell bilaterally to my hips in an effort to stimulate some cartilage growth.<br><br>Three months later, I'm still not sure it was a good idea. I <i>am</i> sure it wasn't a bad idea. I hit a pretty intense period of sacroiliac joint irritation that left me bedridden and miserable until I finally reached out to my friend Rebekah, a physical therapist. (She does traditional physical therapy as well as a form of therapy known as hippotherapy, which involves using horses to help kids walk. She's pretty cool.) Rebekah was able to explain that my right side was out of place and how to get it to go back into place. I did the exercises and stretching she prescribed, got a massage with my friend Melinda McWherter and am now making progress. I'd actually like to have prolotherapy on that area in the future, but we've been working 16-18 hour days and there's no way I'm getting to Lafayette any time soon. </span></span><br>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br></span></span>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiodURKUYgNZOuTKxc49-Ip9O66BdWHTmJz1W_v0te_0ZShboGM7115ezUGUr5Ccz8LqAoMRR002EpZ7Yptrs_a1CBsHYr9zGlqrBGVtXYJ81f3tSzC-b7tUXC6-eSVzSEclfpFDPNtBY/s1600/gunslinger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiodURKUYgNZOuTKxc49-Ip9O66BdWHTmJz1W_v0te_0ZShboGM7115ezUGUr5Ccz8LqAoMRR002EpZ7Yptrs_a1CBsHYr9zGlqrBGVtXYJ81f3tSzC-b7tUXC6-eSVzSEclfpFDPNtBY/s320/gunslinger.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white;">I know part of the problem is that I've learned an abnormal movement pattern. Because the hip resists flexion, because it hurts to move through a normal range of motion, I've learned to walk by swiveling my pelvis around my spine, gunslinger style. Bad ass, but not good.<br><br>So I'm running a little with extreme caution. Low mileage, good form, lots of walking breaks. I'm lifting, but using very little motion that involves flexing the hip for now. Until I can regain normal movement of that area, I don't want to stress the SI ligaments or do any number of other stupid things. It is simply not ready to be regularly and fully loaded with weights. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: medium; line-height: 18.48px;"> I'm also swimming. Swimming is a little challenging because my right shoulder is still not 100% after surgery, but swimming has been great for strengthening everything. </span><br>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br>I wish I had more to say, but I don't. I'm learning not to aggravate the SI joint. I'm fighting for full range of motion and strength, without irritation. (I cannot take anything for inflammation for at least six months from the date of stem cell-Think that's easy? Ha! Try it. No antihistamines either. So forget sleeping during times of high pain unless you have something prescription for sleep.) For someone </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: medium; line-height: 18.48px;">as bull-headed as I am, the mental aspect has been tough. I just want to charge through recovery, guns blazing. And take Ibuprofen. :-)</span><br>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: medium; line-height: 18.48px;"><br></span>
<div style="line-height: 18.48px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline">5/23/2016 </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.48px;">
<br></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.48px;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDLcs8SF4SEGACqrsIPMVr87xf-AXoYXEsLA5JcN3ZtM9oF5G7DmJsQMqnxDWXbTDsk9fBdwFrzit8szS9C2lLigZwTxY_WXQ50qPPQP-B_I6hOZzXvuVbdFOjgEb3GhnvQhtPyG9tHzg/s640/blogger-image-1733274040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDLcs8SF4SEGACqrsIPMVr87xf-AXoYXEsLA5JcN3ZtM9oF5G7DmJsQMqnxDWXbTDsk9fBdwFrzit8szS9C2lLigZwTxY_WXQ50qPPQP-B_I6hOZzXvuVbdFOjgEb3GhnvQhtPyG9tHzg/s320/blogger-image-1733274040.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
So I'm here again. More Prolotherapy. (My posterior region feels hugely swollen!) This time to my bilateral sacroiliac (SI) joints and a bonus cautionary refresher round to my right hip. </div>
<div style="line-height: 18.48px;">
<br></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.48px;">
The SI joint is a held together by strong ligaments. The theory is that my right SI joint is a diva and moves too much. The SI joint is designed to go into a stable position and provide an anchor point for movement, as well as move juuuuuust enough to be a shock absorber for the spine. Our body asks the SI joint to know when to move and when to stay still. That's a lot to ask of one little joint. If it's functioning correctly, you'll never even know you have one. Thank your lucky stars!</div>
<div style="line-height: 18.48px;">
<br></div>
<div style="line-height: 18.48px;">
When it moves too much, surfaces get raw, muscles hold tension and nerves get irritated. In my case, the piriformis muscle spasms as it tries to hold the joint in place. When the muscle spasms, it cranks down on the sciatic nerve, which is the Hulk of nerves. When it gets angry it burns, it stings, it aches, it's like a giant toothache in your leg, buttock and back and it tries to destroy your soul. It's brutal. You can't set it aside. It's always with you. </div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: medium; line-height: 18.48px;"></span><br>
<div style="color: black; font-family: Times; line-height: 18.48px;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSS5wGYJz6K_WJ7E20r7uFwouTuJJf5Xm4I1X_4ipT3Y43UAhpcw0TNjK9XPwijWTrcG7joCgpigOiilwoWhFdKh0nQGemK-yDemcQxORY3M5VL_QBlyq9wSZ6-aommpOwxhlWI88GA1E/s640/blogger-image--112909139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSS5wGYJz6K_WJ7E20r7uFwouTuJJf5Xm4I1X_4ipT3Y43UAhpcw0TNjK9XPwijWTrcG7joCgpigOiilwoWhFdKh0nQGemK-yDemcQxORY3M5VL_QBlyq9wSZ6-aommpOwxhlWI88GA1E/s640/blogger-image--112909139.jpg"></a>I went back to my doctor's office and asked him to try Prolotherapy on my right SI joint. He upped the ante and opted to do both sides. Prolotherapy hurts! Needles, pushing volumes of fluid into tiny spaces-where it doesn't belong, irritation from the solution-it hurts! It hurts during the procedure, and then for about another 10-14 days post-procedure while your body works to heal the "wound". </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
<i>Generating a healing response is the whole point of Prolotherapy</i>. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
Not volunteering for any extra pain, I asked him why we had to do both sides of the SI joint when only the right side was bothering me. He explained that it's a ring-like connection and he's found the best results involve making sure you address the whole ring. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
Damn it. It made sense. I could see how leaving one side of an O-ring stretched out might be a bad idea. I had no choice, but to pretend to be cool about it.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
As we talked, they asked a few times how much improvement I think I've had in my hip joints from past Prolotherapy and stem cell. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
The left side seems to be perfect. It's always been less fussy, but now it seems even better. I think it is going to hold up just fine. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
On the right side, I have so much pain from the SI joint that I can't tell. I've had some really great days, but when you're in the pain haze, all you can focus on is how bad it feels. I kept stingily low-balling the percentage. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
But then as a sat down to write this blog, I realized that I did not hesitate to go back and do Prolotherapy on a new area. Would I have done that if I hadn't noticed any improvement in the hips? <i>No way! Absolutely not!</i> That means on some level, I am aware that this is working. Really working!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
I did notice that the Prolotherapy into the right hip joint did not hurt as much this time. The right hip joint is definitely less raw. The right SI joint, however, feels very raw. This gives a bit of reassurance if that makes any sense.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So I'll keep my hope, and I'll nurture my optimism, and be grateful for a doctor and his awesome nurses that have worked very hard to help me.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
<br></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: rgb(34 , 34 , 34); font-family: "arial" , "tahoma" , "helvetica" , "freesans" , sans-serif;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguTL7dUS7RMPJtN4dx-fETYGuOaxityi0V5tk0gyZ8wUx-QrYvEpDPGepRKbUxR9ILV3aRbu3Cawyf3OIrGzLpZhHeMbKeR3igQTRnKcwMRmgAV9aadMq1ZOVUe-IcsOM6Obm4cqqAk7E/s640/blogger-image-1438132713.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguTL7dUS7RMPJtN4dx-fETYGuOaxityi0V5tk0gyZ8wUx-QrYvEpDPGepRKbUxR9ILV3aRbu3Cawyf3OIrGzLpZhHeMbKeR3igQTRnKcwMRmgAV9aadMq1ZOVUe-IcsOM6Obm4cqqAk7E/s640/blogger-image-1438132713.jpg"></a></div>
</div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: medium; line-height: 18.48px;"><br></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: medium; line-height: 18.48px;"><br></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: medium; line-height: 18.48px;"><br></span>
<div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
<div class="" style="clear: both;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline">6/21/2016 UPDATE!</span><br><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></span></b></div>
<br>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinMoAOnGsHzHNALG-DExrliytYNyR-SsUrpdgD80FzEXqQbkVSvZPmU2aQ1KOsM2JYCBYWOZfsjWadwg7mCJuQyg2LqMX9d-u3yegyYm_UZOvpIQhxocMxFcySTy_iPFgZvjIY22d9KME/s640/blogger-image-743647368.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinMoAOnGsHzHNALG-DExrliytYNyR-SsUrpdgD80FzEXqQbkVSvZPmU2aQ1KOsM2JYCBYWOZfsjWadwg7mCJuQyg2LqMX9d-u3yegyYm_UZOvpIQhxocMxFcySTy_iPFgZvjIY22d9KME/s200/blogger-image-743647368.jpg" width="161"></a><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I RAN LAST NIGHT! I ran last night! I ran last night! I didn't run fast, or the whole time, or even most of the time, but I did run! It required the use of medications, but I did it! That wasn't possible before and I'm not suffering much today. HUGE improvement! </span></b><br>
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><----------PROOF!</span></b><br>
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></b>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwOdazZ6zdx4K7lJoICyhIMTUmckjzcPrrwOiP-wASWyt0SWjFYVflkQo7u1KpSi-1HXuqvn1npZkrS2jyUtamIkxz_GI2JZWeIBJj0_R877rJGB1WOxUwRk_RXzXvIfvkCNyZ6LM1fj4/s640/blogger-image-1622928567.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwOdazZ6zdx4K7lJoICyhIMTUmckjzcPrrwOiP-wASWyt0SWjFYVflkQo7u1KpSi-1HXuqvn1npZkrS2jyUtamIkxz_GI2JZWeIBJj0_R877rJGB1WOxUwRk_RXzXvIfvkCNyZ6LM1fj4/s200/blogger-image-1622928567.jpg" width="150"></a></div>
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My friends Elise and Melanie helped me. </span></b><br>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQQ8FqmVybAYcqAXAEd0lCJxoY7bAaBNTLRF7iI-bhDku3KWu7kjaIrsxeOtFYkyhfmd5B4iB2g5hxyFNS-C8XEWTvWFV2xo7DWcQidFQ8TZFlw4IFCJiy7kmFB2aLH89e5CiFKblnH50/s640/blogger-image--105335397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQQ8FqmVybAYcqAXAEd0lCJxoY7bAaBNTLRF7iI-bhDku3KWu7kjaIrsxeOtFYkyhfmd5B4iB2g5hxyFNS-C8XEWTvWFV2xo7DWcQidFQ8TZFlw4IFCJiy7kmFB2aLH89e5CiFKblnH50/s320/blogger-image--105335397.jpg" width="240"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Posing with friends after the run</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><-----Elise.</span></b><br>
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Having friends means having people that build you, give you courage. I've tried so many times to run and suffered so severely during and after the efforts, that I was starting to get a little gun shy about it. A lot gun shy actually. I refer to those efforts as my false starts. I would try and then suffer so badly that even lying flat in bed hurt enough to make me want to crawl out of my skin. When the pain is intense for days without ending, you begin to think that maybe being pain-light (never completely pain-free) is enough. That you'll give anything to have the privilege of getting through a normal day. </span></b><br>
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></b><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> It's frightening to think that this time, the pain might not resolve and I'll be stuck with making a decision that I know will end my running-a hip replacement. I'm not willing to go down that road. I'm just not. If I could run on a hip replacement, I would sign up for surgery tomorrow, but I simply have worked too hard to be this Amie, athletic Amie, to let her slip away. She is my identity.<br><br>For a long time now, I've been avoiding my running friends. It hurts too much to see them doing something I cannot do. It overwhelms me with helplessness and frustration. I guess if I were a bigger person, I would be content with being happy for them, but I'm not. I'm selfish. I want to be with them. Step by step. Part of the joy and the bonding comes from struggling through the run together. <i>Injured reserve is a lonely place to be.</i> </span></b><br>
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></b><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></b><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Last night was magic. I think I hooted and hollered and heckled and high-fived everyone I could get my hands on as they ran the opposite way, heading back to the finish, when I wasn't even at the turnaround point yet. I love cheering on other people. The farther back I am, the more people there are to cheer. There is no bad place to be in a run, except on the sidelines, when you aren't sure you'll ever be able to get back in the game.<br><br><br>I've been swimming quite a bit. I'm a terrible swimmer. I like it, but I suck water. (Not literally. Anymore. That part is better.) Swimming is lonely.<br>Swimming is isolation. I enjoy getting into my own head and my own rhythm, but, sometimes, I cannot face the solitude. My friend Jody has recently been helping with that. She's my rock.</span></b><br>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUrEDknimaiff8EF85BLoSubM94gyhZLrTe1ZSF_UG4C8PxGDov4r56OEu5t2RKNJY5eLzDObx0blLnZZbaumbsxyb5zwRIBei7HNaFLF7xmsqUhtcXD2f38hH9IPJ85IDR1wOSwjuDc/s640/blogger-image-85435820.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUrEDknimaiff8EF85BLoSubM94gyhZLrTe1ZSF_UG4C8PxGDov4r56OEu5t2RKNJY5eLzDObx0blLnZZbaumbsxyb5zwRIBei7HNaFLF7xmsqUhtcXD2f38hH9IPJ85IDR1wOSwjuDc/s320/blogger-image-85435820.jpg" width="180"></a><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></b><br>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></b><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span></b>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"></span></span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>We hosted the first bridge run of the summer. Through <a href="http://www.facebook.com/SportsSocietyforAmericanHealth" target="_blank">Sports Society for American Health</a>, we host two bridge races:</b></span></span><b style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"> the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/SabineCauseway5k" target="_blank">Sabine Causeway 5K </a>and the <a href="http://www.facebook.com/IslandBridgeHalfMarathon/" target="_blank">Pleasure Island Bridge Half Marathon, 10K and 2 Mile</a>. (<a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Neighbors-Emergency-Center/" target="_blank">Neighbors Emergency Center </a>and<a href="http://www.facebook.com/KinselFordInc" target="_blank"> Kinsel Ford</a> are big sponsors of those events, SHOUT OUT! Thanks for the support! We cannot do it without you.) Leading up to those events, we head out to the Sabine Causeway on Friday nights and run or walk the bridge. </b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b><br>We host free group training opportunities over the bridge. There's not much elevation in our area. Sea level. I think I've mentioned that before. Bridges are our hills. Bridge running makes us better runners. It makes flats easier and it makes it a better experience if you run anywhere else, as most of the world does have some elevation. It's also beautiful out there. It feels a bit removed from the hustle and bustle of daily life. You can join the group here if you are interesting in running with us-<a href="http://www.facebook.com/groups/1527048877592681/" target="_blank">SSAH-Bridge Runners</a>.</b></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b><br></b></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><b>The first bridge run last Friday, June 17th, reminded me why we do it. Why we struggle year after year to bring events and opportunities to Southeast Texas. It reminded me of who I am. Whom I have become along the way. Why I am fighting so hard to get back to it. All you have to do is look at the photographs to understand. It's about the people. It's about life. Vibrant, beautiful life. It always has been. </b></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"></span></span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"></span></span></b></div>
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"><br></span></span></b><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"><br></span></span></b><br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"></span></span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcG7A0ZfIEVWTW4PbMk0pmbaKBXVj3pgKVR3T86dLJkHDyaaxOINL5l-7Fns5FDHHedEjJlmhzOAPoFmd53h3nxVf7SZrQKGjjTpIeUJXmT3uP9G6WPVfB0M5_SaaWEVpynXAT_mgBRXU/s640/blogger-image--363469879.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcG7A0ZfIEVWTW4PbMk0pmbaKBXVj3pgKVR3T86dLJkHDyaaxOINL5l-7Fns5FDHHedEjJlmhzOAPoFmd53h3nxVf7SZrQKGjjTpIeUJXmT3uP9G6WPVfB0M5_SaaWEVpynXAT_mgBRXU/s320/blogger-image--363469879.jpg" width="240"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Flowers on the Louisiana side of the Sabine Causeway</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"></span></span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"></span></span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"><br></span></span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6R0JFgsf8dEQWpJvGSSBk4VMS3q_Pp0B8uBfjVOYMgtcRAeIOshlcXg8TZrU2W9JR8-veV8vnw26akKR2PTCgBS0l2eoRBBxmPzPXu6f_ervDi7kQF14wWZ30Ogi3E-uOnVzjVD9rsZ4/s640/blogger-image-2100195408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6R0JFgsf8dEQWpJvGSSBk4VMS3q_Pp0B8uBfjVOYMgtcRAeIOshlcXg8TZrU2W9JR8-veV8vnw26akKR2PTCgBS0l2eoRBBxmPzPXu6f_ervDi7kQF14wWZ30Ogi3E-uOnVzjVD9rsZ4/s320/blogger-image-2100195408.jpg" width="240"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Cresting the top of the bridge.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"></span></span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhhGdFhk5EPZKXoTb5eh_Iq7YrYmw3Jhmj_7GFGqKcqdHnjrihvz-YDf_KbYAqil2UA1BUzuX_lwaRGB6FLz2sS_rxYBkhW0PsVrdSvAY-hFOA6yFY2R5oGX73eUjOn6_7GeayL-mZuc0/s640/blogger-image--747236047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhhGdFhk5EPZKXoTb5eh_Iq7YrYmw3Jhmj_7GFGqKcqdHnjrihvz-YDf_KbYAqil2UA1BUzuX_lwaRGB6FLz2sS_rxYBkhW0PsVrdSvAY-hFOA6yFY2R5oGX73eUjOn6_7GeayL-mZuc0/s320/blogger-image--747236047.jpg" width="240"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Lying on the ground to capture great photos. It was over 100 degrees this week.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"></span></span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"><br></span></span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFxRAxVjbDRSDvWzywl8Gadi5gHjnCp34Yf4g_8NASCpMJQg8vX92EidB4Ez8L0daZhOicv3rKQ93bHvEpK2A6-A8uepDgc7lba6CtHkrQzhnBtbEZKojTQR__AKzLhfAoQn-eiCAqZRQ/s640/blogger-image--1278317298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFxRAxVjbDRSDvWzywl8Gadi5gHjnCp34Yf4g_8NASCpMJQg8vX92EidB4Ez8L0daZhOicv3rKQ93bHvEpK2A6-A8uepDgc7lba6CtHkrQzhnBtbEZKojTQR__AKzLhfAoQn-eiCAqZRQ/s320/blogger-image--1278317298.jpg" width="240"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Runners, friends and SSAH volunteers.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: yellow;"></span></span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
</div>
<br>
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></b></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-size: medium; line-height: 18.48px;"></span><br>
<div style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
<br>
<div style="line-height: 18.48px;">
<div style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, tahoma, helvetica, freesans, sans-serif; font-weight: bold;">
<br></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03255773212805645881noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1542817536741934994.post-71903571537432994122014-10-28T18:36:00.000-07:002014-10-29T13:36:08.885-07:00Chainrings and SpittoonsI got spit on in the group ride today. I don't mean a little side sneeze wetness, I mean a hawk it up from your toes, suck it together in a nice ball and let it fly spit on. I wish I could say it was my first time to get slimed by a mentally competent adult but, alas, it was not. The reality is that if you run or ride with people on a group eventually someone is going to let a snot rocket fly and you'll be hit by friendly fire.<br>
<div>
</div>
<div>
I remember the first time it happened. The rider in front of me launched one. As the mucous ball landed on my knee, my mind instantly grasped that I could not let go of the handlebars and frantically brush it off-that I probably <i>shouldn't </i>touch it at all. I ignored it until the pace slowed to a point I could wash the glob off of my poor appendage with my water bottle. The accidentally offending cyclist was an experienced rider that I admired. It was sort of crushing and sort of great. Let me back up and say that while it is NEVER great to get snot jockeyed, it's also reality that at some point in life you are bound to experience it so you may as well get it over with.<br>
<br>
Years passed and I successfully dodged congested cyclists, questionably frothy people in the pool and phlegmy runners. And then it happened. This time I was third in a small pace line and directly in the line of fire. I felt it hit my face. Worse, I felt it hit the skin around my mouth. I've been grounded from cycling and running since July with a sort of mystery hip problem. I wasn't cycling much before that. This was my second ride back.<i> </i>I didn't recognize the the cyclist behind me nor the Super Spitter ahead of me but it was immediately apparent that he was horrified. He was so horrified I couldn't even revel in a moment of self-pity. Things happen fast on the bike. You're either in or you are out. I did my best to assure him that I understood it was an accident. He disappeared to the back and the pace never dropped. <i>Keep pedaling. He probably doesn't have The Ebola. It's not going to kill you. Just a few more miles and you can douse yourself with your water bottle. Show no signs of weakness. Do not lick your lips!</i><br>
<br>
It's not like I've lived life so perfectly as to never gross someone out or offend. It was more than that; he was so sincerely apologetic in the split second after that everything in me wanted him to be okay. We're sort of a family on the road. We work together. We struggle together. We try to protect each other from cars and potholes. We sweat on each other, occasionally accidentally rooster tail each other with roadkill-things just happen. It was the most sincere of adventitious phlegmings and this stranger was my fellow cyclist.<br>
<br>
As we neared the turn off road to get back to where we all park, I looked back for him but couldn't see him. I turned toward the parking lot as the small group rode on a few more miles. I pulled into the parking lot and immediately decided to write this blog. It's gross and funny and honest. It's life as a mediocre athlete and that's what this blog is all about. I got a few sentences in before another cyclist showed up. <br>
<br>
"Hey, remember my first time in the group when it was 100 degrees and you sweated all over me?" he recalled. I barely remembered the incident but he did. "Yeah, I moved here from Tennessee, found the group and you were slinging sweat all over me." I tried to deny it. I declared that I barely sweat but everyone sweats in Texas summers, when the temperatures near a 100 degree with 100% humidity. <i>Two words-heat index. If you don't know what those mean you are living wrong. Fish sweat in the summer in Texas! Really you should move here. It's God's country. </i> I asked, "Are you sure that was me?" as if you forget the complete stranger perspiring all over you and your beloved bike. It was me and it sort of made the moment even better.<br>
<br>
Then I saw him, my sweet little drooler. He pulled into the parking lot with a bouquet of yellow wildflowers in his hand. He had stopped to pick apology flowers. A complete gentleman, a rare breed, not at all afraid to own up to his completely unintended offense. While I stick to my preferences about not getting spit upon, it was almost worth it. I saw a real hero in his eyes. I saw a man. I saw a great human being. I saw grace and kindness. I saw the kind of person that made me love the athletic community in the first place. <br>
<br>
Maybe I'll invent the world's first bike spittoon but then again maybe I won't. Maybe every once in a while the world needs to get spit on so it can remember the grace of an accident. <br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyreok57gNlePpALjQewUrMyMdeQyXvWYJO_QYnd5uBmWhgOVg5cbaDfuQ5bcA5MmY92vIaPkN7hzEz3OfkcykkkNblhhbFLhs1BbxLrbDnCzksXBelZQd_xMfPLDfiGMW4ytSjTOry68/s1600/FullSizeRender+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyreok57gNlePpALjQewUrMyMdeQyXvWYJO_QYnd5uBmWhgOVg5cbaDfuQ5bcA5MmY92vIaPkN7hzEz3OfkcykkkNblhhbFLhs1BbxLrbDnCzksXBelZQd_xMfPLDfiGMW4ytSjTOry68/s1600/FullSizeRender+(1).jpg" height="320" width="240"></a></div>
</div>
<div>
<br></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03255773212805645881noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1542817536741934994.post-16116794546980429842014-06-22T15:27:00.001-07:002015-12-21T11:35:06.203-08:00My Doctors Have Always Been Athletes<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I sat in the office of very nice doctor. I was there to support my friend. My friend was there for what could have been bad news. Everything was fine. We were both very relieved! The conversation turned to running. We're both runners. The physician my friend was being referred to is a runner. My friend's doctor stood there in her lab coat, very trim-figured with sensible shoes. I pegged her for someone with a positive view about running. I was wrong. She spoke the words that made my head want to explode, "Just speed walk for thirty minutes three times a week," she smiled, "That's all you need." </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I couldn't help myself, I listened as politely as I could. I was a little exasperated as this was the second time I'd heard physicians speak unfavorably about running. I controlled my voice and cautiously said, "I think a little tendonitis is a lot less serious than a cardiac episode, don't you?" She puffed out little gasps of air and stood there silently for a moment as she thought. She had a retort and I clamped down on my thoughts, reminding myself that I was here to support a friend, not argue with her doctor about running. </span><br>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I actually listened to what she had to say but she didn't offer any facts or quote any studies. She just went on to tell me that people get injured from running and that recreational speed walking is a much better, safer exercise. I respect her right to her opinion. I respect her medical degree. I even like her as a person but I was a little frustrated with her response.</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br></span>
<br>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikbd9qLzk0PTqcmqtPJq_10Lxa9lg5shsO-ThwaaDbySAe3KYV7G7I8lLn74I0FKaqeSoV4jGFrJPasUSPOFO8FGeZ6L-v9ivo6jpU1WGvl9V8wQ_ginEl08zsXRNYjCB5jsccQc1uqoY/s1600/Sedentary+Lifestyle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikbd9qLzk0PTqcmqtPJq_10Lxa9lg5shsO-ThwaaDbySAe3KYV7G7I8lLn74I0FKaqeSoV4jGFrJPasUSPOFO8FGeZ6L-v9ivo6jpU1WGvl9V8wQ_ginEl08zsXRNYjCB5jsccQc1uqoY/s1600/Sedentary+Lifestyle.jpg" height="281" width="400"></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Washington Post</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I'm not denying that there is a certain sense in what she had to say. Athletes do get extreme, especially runners and sometimes that gets us injured. It's a strong part of our mental makeup. </span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Push, achieve, push harder. </i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It's what makes us who we are. Maybe it also makes us a little bit responsible for the attitude of some members of the medical community. This doesn't mean we should stop running. It does mean that there could be a lesson to be learned. In my experience, mature athletes have learned that along with </span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">push, achieve, push harder</i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> comes </span><i style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">rest, being in tune with the body and nourishing the entire entity. </i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">That process has kept them in the running game for a long time.<i> But are there any studies that actually prove running is detrimental to health? That runners suffer more injuries than other sports players?</i> <i> Are we truly at an increase risk for injury over sedentary people? </i> I really don't know since I can't find any studies comparing sedentary peoples' injury rates to those of athletes but it's a fairly basic assumption that it's pretty hard to get injured sitting on the couch. What I can find are studies like this one in the Washington Post. A study that indicates the more sedentary you are the more likely you are to die.</span></blockquote>
<br>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"></span><br>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"></span>
<br>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6FRmYLS2o7s7SP_DD_WkbuRZ5MFDyChnD5tH7RqwdnpLMjX1j6A0XgUmklkE31kTbIfPc76s7WyO8VCLc1vDuh47wLK0-wagxAXkNiK9lb7SzFZ_TICOXTnovMv87SFBIgLzs0yFHnFw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-06-22+at+3.01.05+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6FRmYLS2o7s7SP_DD_WkbuRZ5MFDyChnD5tH7RqwdnpLMjX1j6A0XgUmklkE31kTbIfPc76s7WyO8VCLc1vDuh47wLK0-wagxAXkNiK9lb7SzFZ_TICOXTnovMv87SFBIgLzs0yFHnFw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-06-22+at+3.01.05+PM.png" height="205" width="400"></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h1 itemprop="headline" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; border: 0px; line-height: 3rem; margin: 0px 0px 0.6rem; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">The Wall Street Journal, "Why You Should Step Up Your Workout"</span></h1>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Some studies show an increased health benefit from running more mileage. Dr. Paul Williams studied over 100,000 runners for nearly 20 years. He made some interesting discoveries. He claims that surpassing the federally recommended exercise guidelines can positively impact the risk of several preventable diseases such as glaucoma, stroke, diabetes and cardiovascular disease. Not only does his research demonstrate the benefit of increased weekly mileage, it shows a strong impact on the body's ability to ward off certain conditions. We're not talking about small margins. We're talking about </span><b style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>significant health gains. </i></b><br>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br>
</span><br>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> So besides our own hard-headedness why does it seem that a large majority of healthcare providers are of the opinion that running is not the best choice for exercise? A clue is quoted from the same Wall Street Journal piece. Author of the article, Kevin Hilliker writes"Chief of<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"> cardiology at Hartford Hospital in Connecticut, Dr. Thompson notes that vigorous exercise regimens can lead to injury. And he also observes in many patients a fragile motivation to exercise. Among those currently meeting or slightly exceeding the guidelines, a daunting new challenge might prove discouraging, he says. 'And if you make them run more and they get injured, then they wind up running less.'" </span></span></span><br>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="line-height: 21px;"><br></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 21px;">I don't disagree with Dr. Thompson. With the incredible obesity and cardiovascular incident numbers in this country it is</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 21px;"> easy to see his point of view. A lot of people are starting from an older or no athletic background. I just don't agree with his direction. The answer is not to discourage or limit. </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 21px;">The answer is more education and encouragement. </span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 21px;">The answer is to evaluate people that are happily active runners and support their progress. The answer is to work harder to help runners understand what causes injury and how to avoid it. The answer is to help patients find the running programs that will allow them to sensibly increase their mileage and draw on the experience of people that have been running for years. The answer is to work harder to start children in athletics at a younger age and to retain and utilize physical education time. We must teach our children how to exercise for a lifetime. We all stand to benefit when we set goals then persistently and intelligently obtain them. The answer is education all around. </span><br>
<br>
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 21px;"><br></span></span>
<br>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03255773212805645881noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1542817536741934994.post-66530273311514977962014-06-14T16:40:00.001-07:002014-06-14T16:40:49.541-07:0013 Super Useful Trail Running Tips<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">1. Never pass up a chance to get potable water. Failure to heed this warning may find you cruising Etsy for a "<span style="color: #20124d;"><b>Kiss me, I've had</b></span><span style="color: #741b47;"> </span><span style="color: #7f6000; cursor: pointer; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; white-space: nowrap;"><a href="http://www.cdc.gov/parasites/crypto/" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; white-space: nowrap;">Cryptosporidium</a></span><span style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; white-space: nowrap;">" tee shirt</span></span><br />
<span style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none; white-space: nowrap;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">2. Never pass up a chance to use a potty with walls. It's going to take you a minute to struggle your wet bottoms back up your sweaty rear power quadrant. The people you run with have camera phones.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">3. Runner in the front clears the spiderwebs. Don't be a spider weenie. Take a turn in the front.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">4. Enlarge the hole in the mouthpiece of your hydration pack or run the risk of developing buccal hypertrophy. If that's not a real term it should be. </span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">5. Never say no to bug spray. Saying no means you will spend the run reminding yourself how much you love nature as you slap horseflies to death.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />6. Always slap horseflies to death. They deserve it.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_T3laQ__CADqUtgp0MHBHIlQ2rkDvpaFCFfuW8JqrRcj-OAccatKAAMGIAJevmS0zTsEgVyk9rmHGBTkhSdfhWXGKn1X2ggS5HinF8EIkgomD-bJY8vG2TtYY114RIvXEd88FBdUeQaU/s1600/10403024_10152081920861786_6199289995119415780_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_T3laQ__CADqUtgp0MHBHIlQ2rkDvpaFCFfuW8JqrRcj-OAccatKAAMGIAJevmS0zTsEgVyk9rmHGBTkhSdfhWXGKn1X2ggS5HinF8EIkgomD-bJY8vG2TtYY114RIvXEd88FBdUeQaU/s1600/10403024_10152081920861786_6199289995119415780_n.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">7. Bring the stuff you've gotten in race packets and stored away for years. You'll eat a lot of things you don't think you like when you can't get to food. Suddenly a peanut butter lobster bar sounds <i>pretty </i>darn good!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">9. Roots hate runners. They'll do anything to bring you down. Never take your eyes off of them!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">10. Be careful where you sit. Stick, puuulllll, Stick, puuuullll, stick puuuulll. Gum, tree sap, mystery gunk- Your inner short liner can and will adhere to your leg and pull free with each step. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">11. Be prepared to feed, water and possibly take home stray animals. Big, watery, lonely dog eyes are hard to resist. Bless your heart.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">12. Trees look a lot alike. Create a better return navigation plan than tree memorization.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />13. Things move in the woods. Offer it a peanut butter lobster bar and hope for the </span>best. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03255773212805645881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1542817536741934994.post-10482358723395613632014-03-28T15:42:00.001-07:002014-03-28T15:42:18.910-07:00Galveston Mardi Gras Half Marathon 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5czCFSv8DyQRMbXP25H_I_es4a4KQheSrXLoBoDXSw4PpLSCuAUfr28pHx8MvO_YvnErRdHgLllWRzQrb3HV8aphzi18sQOhfTIZSPqRYRCPr6zttir_UsjFxINVVt1C6JRqIwCdtQ-s/s1600/IMG_1866.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5czCFSv8DyQRMbXP25H_I_es4a4KQheSrXLoBoDXSw4PpLSCuAUfr28pHx8MvO_YvnErRdHgLllWRzQrb3HV8aphzi18sQOhfTIZSPqRYRCPr6zttir_UsjFxINVVt1C6JRqIwCdtQ-s/s1600/IMG_1866.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
This was a race I've been wanting to do! The stars finally aligned and it was going to be a great weekend with Tara, Erin, Jeremiah, Rich and myself all in this race together. Tara, Erin and myself even coordinated a subtle Mardi Gras theme to our outfits. One thing you should know about me is that I LOVE a low hassle race. Some people go for the big expo, lots of people on the road sort of thing but I dig a race that gets me in and out of packet pick up, has easy parking and has just enough people on the course to make it interesting. This is one of those races. <br />
<br />
<br />
I was fresh off of my 50, well 34 miler the weekend before but I was really looking forward to this race. Tara and Erin are two of my absolute favorite people. We all run together well. No drama, no complaints if someone is having an off day, no one holding anyone back that is having a on day-we're just friends and it works. <br /><br />We lined up and took off. I already had to pee. <i>How does that happen? </i>I was determined to ignore it and thoroughly enjoying the candy colored gingerbread houses along the first part of the route. Galveston is full of interesting architecture and history. <br /><br />On my legs were the new and looser calf sleeves I bought to try. HUGE mistake. For some reason anything on my calves makes the muscles burn. As we reached the seawall, I jumped onto the sidewalk, laid down on my back and begged Erin and Tara to strip them off of me. They did. God bless them. <br />
<br />Soon my calves were feeling better but my need to make wee was not. <i>Oh I really have to go! </i>We spotted a public portajohn on the boardwalk and decided I should go for it. As often happens when you really need to go, it wasn't empty. Tara and Erin patiently waited with me even though they didn't have to. Have I mentioned that they are the best people in the world?<br /><br /><i>Ah! Much better. Now I can get on to the business of running before I completely lose the skin on my already blistered and taped toes. </i>It was just one of those days where we weren't all matching paces. It happens. As always no one minded. I ended up separated from the group trying to get to the finish line before my toes could stop me. I saw a lot of my friends along the seawall then again when we looped through a newer neighborhood. My friend Cecilia actually took the picture. She's a better runner than I am and everything in me wanted to stay right there and enjoy my time with her but I knew anything other than the pace I had going would be a mistake. <br /><br />The race loops back into more historic homes. I was passing people with the funny little running form I'd adopted to keep as much pressure as possible off of my toes. It honestly didn't dawn on me that something was amiss until the fifth or sixth person I passed gave me quite the odd look. <i>Oh well, to the finish line with me. </i><br /><br />The best part of this race was the camaraderie . We ate together after the race, talked and told stories. Richard and I host or volunteer at a lot of our local races so we don't always get to be on the course with our friends. It was so good. Good course, good memories, good friends-a true homerun.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03255773212805645881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1542817536741934994.post-89295994500467385632014-03-27T08:07:00.001-07:002014-03-27T08:07:06.964-07:00Rocky Raccoon 34Rocky Raccoon 50 2013 was hard. Somehow I forgot that and on a bright, sunny day in June I signed up for RR 2015. It made perfect sense at the time. I'm a hypothyroid patient with stage four endometriosis and frequently recurring ovarian cysts, pushing my body through a 50 miler one more time sounded like something I wanted to do. As silly as that sounds I am actually 100% serious. You see the thing that ticks me off the most about whatever is wrong with my body, medical science doesn't fully understand so I don't either, is that it comes with limitations. I'm not willing to accept limitations. The nursing diagnosis for this is known as Ineffective Denial. I signed up and decided to take my training much more seriously this year. <br /><br />Step one was to figure out why I blistered so badly the first year. The blisters started at mile 16 and had a very negative impact on my run. They were intense enough that they lifted off the toenails on both of my pinky toes and split the skin down to the meat. This year, I was determined to conquer them. I bought four different pairs of trail shoes. Some people say you don't need trail shoes for Rocky. We went to store after store explaining my issue and no one had an answer. I changed socks, I tried lubes, I tried powders, I tried antiperspirants, I tried tape-reconfirming my horrible tape allergy, I tried double socks, I even read the book "Fixing Your Feet". No success. Nothing I tried got me over 16 miles without blisters, except for my New Balance testers and I had to send those back before the race. Fatal move, as NB generously agreed to let me keep them for the race but I sent them back because of my stubborn feeling trail runs should be done in trail shoes.<br />
<br />
Step two was to strengthen my gluteals and ankles as the 17,652,854 roots on the trail are probably the biggest terrain challenge. No turned ankle was taking me out the race if I could help it! I went to the gym and did embarrassing, weird movements in order to challenge myself and make useful neuromuscular connections. Good news, it worked! Not one sprained ankle. Everything I semi-tripped over was answered immediately by my body with minimal effort. <br /><br />Unfortunately the blisters were not good news. My problem reared it's ugly head again. I just didn't have the strength to soldier through them this time. My friend Sandy was tearing up the course and looking strong My good friends John and Willie tried to encourage me but my body was simply too tired to handle the pain. They both went on to finish their first 50 miler. I did not.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUfaZ3cFw9UZZsl6ul13l1r6fPnKn2Hb_63ViQ-Dsv9xAI_VF2qy9H-Yh0ckguk5EY24BYBpa_J3M_rJY13QpqrRbj1WyyhAZSGfZmmG2EGu68dK-B3EaJz8Jg4X77vqe4_2AcCIr1qXs/s1600/IMG_1515.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUfaZ3cFw9UZZsl6ul13l1r6fPnKn2Hb_63ViQ-Dsv9xAI_VF2qy9H-Yh0ckguk5EY24BYBpa_J3M_rJY13QpqrRbj1WyyhAZSGfZmmG2EGu68dK-B3EaJz8Jg4X77vqe4_2AcCIr1qXs/s1600/IMG_1515.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
Somewhere around mile 26 I realized my chances of finishing this race were slim. Both of my pinky toes felt 5 times bigger than they were. I was altering my gait to compensate and it was causing all kinds of hip and low back pain. On top of this, the debilitating fatigue I'd developed at the end of January was crushing my will. I'd never DNF'd a race before. <i>Could my ego handle it? </i>If this had happened a few years ago the answer would have been no. It would have embarrassed me and bitten into my sense of self worth. But here's the thing about running, it teaches you to fail without failing. During the long miles of training, the races where I performed well and the ones that I didn't, the shared journey with other runners in the trenches, the deeper understanding of myself that came with every physical challenge, I had begun to change. I was no longer defined by how far, how fast or the comparison of other runners around me-I was just me, just running because I love it. <br /><br />I'm not fast. I'm not impressive. My body is never going to operate normally. No one is ever going to want to know my training secrets. Somehow though, all of that was pushed aside and running belonged to me. I was no longer looking for someone to tell me that. I was owning it. It was the most remarkable feeling of freedom and connection. I was free from letting anyone else ever define my running again. I had taken on a challenge and passed it. I didn't feel like less of a runner and something inside of me was excited about sporting a RR 50 shirt with a giant Sharpie DNF on it. I earned that DNF. At mile 34 my race was over but my running was not.<br />
<br />
Running has done something else for me too. I learned that antihistamines disrupt my hormones causing even greater ovarian cyst/endo issues. Symptoms have made it pretty obvious that this was the cause of the debilitating fatigue that began in January. We thought it was allergies and it probably did have an allergy component. Unfortunately my issues tripled on antihistamines instead of resolving. Without running I might downshift my life to meet my energy levels. I might have gone through the motions of what needed to be done in a day and then laid on the couch in my downtime. Not anymore. Running has given me a great tool to know when something is off. It still befuddles me but I'm learning. I'm recognizing patterns and I'm fighting back. I earned that DNF!<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03255773212805645881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1542817536741934994.post-67703010769217088822014-01-22T18:17:00.002-08:002014-01-23T04:57:51.654-08:002014 Austin 3M Half Marathon-Where the Body and Mind Split Pretty much up until my legs touched down on the start line I was lying to myself about making this a competitive race. Most of my races are run for fun but every now and then I like to see what I can do. I can't do much. I'm not a great runner and with the endometriosis and hypothyroidism how I feel is somewhat unpredictable. That doesn't mean that I let myself off the hook or that my goal isn't important or just as hard won.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4aLLAE1mZy4zEPh56RMjNRFo93ycwGazQG_MhL8hnZxB1Te-6n_jPoM0plHObeTUGNgm3s5pVYDyQq2HXjuRgGJChT6ImeqTjKzqlt9qix42bMl_Uq-Qht876xQ13gp1WXjdgcs4D5DQ/s1600/little_girl_flower_lineart_0.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4aLLAE1mZy4zEPh56RMjNRFo93ycwGazQG_MhL8hnZxB1Te-6n_jPoM0plHObeTUGNgm3s5pVYDyQq2HXjuRgGJChT6ImeqTjKzqlt9qix42bMl_Uq-Qht876xQ13gp1WXjdgcs4D5DQ/s1600/little_girl_flower_lineart_0.png" height="200" width="139" /></a> It started out with an expo and a chiropractor there poking at the swelling in my hip that has been there for over a year and saying "Does it hurt?"<br />
"No, it doesn't bother me much."<br />
"Yeah, you probably have a high pain tolerance because that should hurt."<br />
<i>Super.</i> He both complimented me making me want to work harder and brought up an injury giving me a valid excuse to take it easy. I like to take it easy. It doesn't take much of an excuse to get me to kick back on a course and daisy-pick my way through the race, but it's been a long time since I'd run a half for time instead of enjoyment. Maybe it was time. Besides the Austin 3M had a reputation for being a mostly downhill course. I'll take all the help I can get.<br />
<br />
Race day was chilly. Jeremiah, Rich and myself arrived way too early so we didn't have to battle over parking. Turns out there's pretty good parking around the race start but it's always nice to be there and relaxed instead of hurried and harassed. The boys sat in the car while I did my typical pre-run mile and bathroom trip. Everything was shaping up nicely. I ran back to the car and soaked up some heat so I didn't waste unnecessary calories shivering in the cold.<br />
<br />
Finally it was time to line up in the start chute. That whole process was pretty uneventful and easy. The boys went to the smoking fast start line and I debated between the 2 hour and 1:55 pace group. I've never run a sub 2 hour half. I think the best I've ever run was a 2:05ish. I know should know that but I don't. I just know it was over 2 and that I've always wanted to break 2. I settled for somewhere in-between the two, still not fully committed to pushing myself through this run.<br />
<br />
Bam! We're off! Somehow I found myself trailing the 2 hour pace group. <i>How did this happen? My breathing is ragged and my heart is pounding! Legs, are you still under me?</i> The course has changed from what I understand and I don't know all of the changes. It continues to be a net effect of downhill but the course actually starts uphill. <i>Uphill? Okay, I can still do this. I like uphill. If the net effect is downhill how bad can it be? </i>Bad. It turns out that it's bad when your mind is not in agreement with what your body is willing to do. The 2 hour pacer was suddenly well ahead of me and I was losing ground. As much as I like to daisy-pick I do <b><i>not</i> </b>like to lose ground. <br />
<br />
I started the self-assessment. <i>Do my legs hurt? No, no they're fine. Am I working too hard? Well my breathing is ragged and my heart rate is fast but it's not so fast I can't sustain the pace. Are you standing tall like Scott Meyer told you to do? </i>Well he didn't actually tell me to do it. He just said in passing conversation one day "I don't know how people can run when there all bent over and sitting down like that." <br />
"Yeah, yeah me neither," looking around like I would never do that. Well I would and sometimes I do. Especially when I get tired and it actually just makes me more tired, but not this time. I was standing up straight as an arrow. Go me! So what was the problem? My mind. My mind was the problem. My mind hadn't accepting that was going to happen. It was still hanging out back in that warm car thinking about pancakes. <i>Tough biscuits, mind. We're doing this!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> </i>I looked down at my watch and saw that I was 1.5 miles into the race. <i>Alright, no need to panic. Sometimes it takes a good 2 miles for my body and brain to sync over this running thing.</i> Mile 2 found me gaining on the 2 hour pacer. <i>Are you really gaining on him? Oh, he looks like a good runner. You should slow down. </i>In that moment I reassessed, found out I was fine and decided to ignore my mind. What does it know? It still wanted pancakes and now a foot massage. I caught the pacer and passed him. Did I celebrate that I was running past someone that could clearly wipe the floor with me in a race? Of course! I may never have this chance to run past him again!<br />
<br />
Still physically feeling good but mentally fighting every step, I stripped off my gloves at mile 4 or so and dropped my water bottle. I run with a water bottle filled with Powerade because liquid calories and I agree in a race. If I have them I can pace them out instead of gulping them at a water station. <i>Ah fudge! I have to go back and get it because it's my favorite bottle but darn I may not have the willpower to make my mind run again. Oh well, I'll do what I have to do.</i> I ran back and quickly scooped up my bottle. Luckily, it hadn't caused any issue or been kicked around on the course. <br />
<br />
One mile led to another and the feeling that my mind and body were not in sync never changed. I just kept running and reassessing. There was quite a bit of uphill on that downhill course. I enjoyed it though. What's race without a challenge? Around mile 6 it sunk in that I was more likely to PR than not PR. I decided at that point I was sticking with it even if my body decided to join my mind for pancakes. <br />
<br />
I'll spare you the details about the course other than to say the longest climb came somewhere around mile 9 and it made me wonder what more was to come. Around mile 10 I knew I was starting to fade. I was ticking off small increments on a watch I had pretty much ignored most of the race. <i>10.2, 10.3, 10.4, alright, we're getting closer! </i>That is never a good way to spend the last 5K of a race. If you want to make a race seem infinitely longer start counting down tenth of a miles. Still, I wasn't counting down hundredths so there was hope I could hang on to this PR. <br />
<br />
Around mile 11 I started ticking off hundredths. Oh dear. My body had decided to join my mind for pancakes. I had only taken in my 12 ounces of Powerade and not a calorie more. I knew it was hunger. My body was caving but my soul wasn't giving in. I was too close to a PR. The finish line was creeping into sight. One more uphill, a left turn and a sprint home. <i>I can do it! </i>I did. 1:55 Good enough to break 2! <br />
<br />
Inside I was celebrating. Years of struggle with physical health and I did it! I couldn't even talk to anyone around me because I was completely inside of myself congratulating me for not crumbling to my mind and later my body. I stumbled up for water and the photographer yelled out "Get your official picture here," to myself and a couple that had passed him. No one was in line so we stood to his left. They took their photo then I waited since a line had formed to his right by this time. I waited through 7 people then stepped in feeling like it wouldn't be an issue since I had actually waited well beyond my time in line. As I stepped in a man with a female hustled in, pushing me out with his words "The line is over there!" his face formed into an ugly scowl. I was caught by surprise and stammered "I know but there was no one in line so I passed the photographer with another group and he yelled out so we stopped here and waited. I waited for several people and it's well beyond my turn, sir." Just like that my moment of victory was crushed under his hateful glare. I said "Forget it," and turned away. I was working hard to hold back my tears. I couldn't stand the idea of letting him see me cry. Rich touched my back as he spotted me and I shrugged him off not realizing it was him in my upset. I despise crying, much less in front of others, but between the low blood sugar, the physical effort, the highest of highs then the lowest of lows I wasn't controlling the emotion very well. I sat down and got my hurt feelings under control. It's a small thing but I included it in this blog for a reason. You never know what someone has gone through to race. I spent years of my life sick. I pushed through life because that's who I am but I struggled. I've advocated for myself with physicians, even firing one that wouldn't listen and I've trained through times of extreme pain and low energy. That doesn't make me special. My point is you just don't know what someone has gone through and on race day we should be celebrating each other. We should be saying "You first. You're amazing. I'm so proud of you, complete stranger." Not shoving each other around with ugly words and selfishness. He hasn't stolen my joy but he did mar it. I'll always have that memory first instead of the one where my husband hugged me and told me he was proud of me. <br />
<br />
We quickly loaded up on the bus and were driven back to the race start. On the bus, someone recognized us as the organizers of the Exygon & Baptist Hospitals Gusher Marathon, SETMA Half Marathon and Kinsel Ford 5K and told us how much they loved the race. They complimented us on the work we've done. Once again I smiled inside knowing they were complimenting the whole community and everyone that's been behind this race. It was almost enough to wipe out my finish line experience. It felt like divine intervention. <i>What an emotional roller coaster! </i> One minute someone is yelling at me and the next, two complete strangers were saying some of the kindest things I've ever heard. I was reminded once again that I don't really do any of it for me. I do it to be the things I want to see in this world-grit, courage, determination, strength, kindness, connection and pancakes. Maybe my mind isn't so split from my body after all. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03255773212805645881noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1542817536741934994.post-49844519524150935512014-01-05T18:22:00.002-08:002014-01-05T18:44:06.470-08:00Wild Azalea Trail Challenge-A Race Report and A Love Story<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyu5GGegrxXBiT45Ko2QGcl5kzJcBE7M8kSxmenxnWnCLzLvt7vq3Ui8cSVBbUiKDsjB0CnMjyDn41s59vwVHucV90eXrFyFWRflxNwDnMjGU9P_TbiXb1-36HpB7sfYrohYAvXfRacCo/s1600/IMG_1376.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyu5GGegrxXBiT45Ko2QGcl5kzJcBE7M8kSxmenxnWnCLzLvt7vq3Ui8cSVBbUiKDsjB0CnMjyDn41s59vwVHucV90eXrFyFWRflxNwDnMjGU9P_TbiXb1-36HpB7sfYrohYAvXfRacCo/s1600/IMG_1376.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Aid station</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> You never know what you are going to get when you sign up for a race you've never done which is one of the reasons I was excited to register for the Wild Azalea Trail Challenge. I opted for the 27 mile distance over the 50 knowing I'd be one of the slow rollers on the trail. I didn't want to hold anyone up while they waited for me to daisy pick my way through the darkness. Part of me was hoping it would be rustic and barely supported but the other part of me, the part that likes reclining on a couch and digs a well-stocked pantry was less sure. Lucky for me this trail would have both<span style="font-size: x-small;">. </span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: left;">. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> The pre-race meeting was the night before the race. We learned 10 people were registered for the 50 miler, 40 for the 27 miler and an additional 50 for the 27 mile mountain bike. This was an increase from the 20 mountain bikers that did the race last year, always good to see a race grow. They offered to put anything out on the trail that we wanted. We were encouraged to think about it and let them know. Quite a bit of the meeting was spent going over the trail. We were told to look for yellow diamonds. "Always look for yellow diamonds. You should see one every 50 feet or so." <i>Alright, that sounds easy enough. </i> As the meeting went on we learned that some areas would be marked with green tape. "Oh and you may want to look for brown paint on the trees. In places where they changed the markings to the updated diamonds they painted over the old areas with brown paint, so if you see brown paint you're good!" <i>Oh dear, this was starting to sound scary</i>. In Southeast Texas you know pretty quickly when you are off trail because you have to push through thicket to get there. You pretty much have to deliberately <i>go</i> off trail to <i>get</i> off trail. In all my trail naivety it honestly hadn't ever occurred to me that in other parts of the world you could wander off trail because the rest of the woods didn't contain a natural Brillo pad barrier. At this point in the meeting I raised my hand and asked for rum. </span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGgdVIKxScDRps-23_6jogv0ZoKIg_PfocxfIRCdHCNQvODOLamDKiyIUZlwQc3vfL2C1OIXP3iPVxAGiQuVdWJT0pkXTemcx7obrOyyOAGB8HTgdojyM2gK7hnP58IWRjv6bjcuBdL4/s1600/IMG_1392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLGgdVIKxScDRps-23_6jogv0ZoKIg_PfocxfIRCdHCNQvODOLamDKiyIUZlwQc3vfL2C1OIXP3iPVxAGiQuVdWJT0pkXTemcx7obrOyyOAGB8HTgdojyM2gK7hnP58IWRjv6bjcuBdL4/s1600/IMG_1392.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Sofa that marks a turn. See the yellow diamond?</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Back at the hotel that night I continued to check the Accuweather forecast trying to convince myself that it wouldn't be that a real feel of 29 degrees wouldn't be all that cold. Two weeks ago when I signed up for this race I thought the hills and terrain would be the big challenge. I'm a flat lander with a serious lack of training trail. That was part of the appeal of this race for me. I wanted this challenge. I knew we would suffer going into it and I was okay with that. I was starting to feel a little less okay. By the time I was 2 hours into the race it would be 20 degrees warmer. <i>How does one dress for that? </i> Like a trooper, I real set my alarm instead of faking it. Since Rich set his there was no use in pretending it didn't go off in the morning causing us to miss the race. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> In the morning, I opted for my warmer Under Armour tights, a lightweight short sleeve shirt, a long sleeve shirt over the short sleeved shirt, gloves, a neck buff and a baseball hat (a hat with a brim is very useful when you go from shade to light in the woods) with an ear band over it. I can go a long way if my ears, neck and hands are warm. I also wore </span><a href="http://www.runningwarehouse.com/GORE_X-Running_Shoe_Gaiter/descpage-GOGAIT1.html" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Gore X running gaiters</a><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. Even though they promised to have supplies every 4-5 miles I opted to run with my Nathan four bottle hydration belt as well as my Amphipod belt. In my Nathan belt I carried emergency Tylenol, Pepto Bismol, bandaids, Amino Acids, four gels, a packet of lady wipes, (trust me, always carry lady wipes) and two ginger chews. In my Amphipod I carried my trusty iPhone. I like having it in a separate pack so I can pull it out without worrying about losing anything. On my feet I wore my favorite pair of Asics socks. They're made of nylon and function like anti-blister superheroes! (You can get them at </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/groups/42922048981/" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">On The Run</a><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> locally.) I also wore my brand spanking new Nike Wildhorse trail shoes that I bought from </span><a href="http://www.runningwarehouse.com/?gclid=CMKa58Oh6LsCFSRk7AodIEAAYQ" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Running Warehouse</a><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. Never, never, never, never, never, never wear brand new shoes on a long trail run. Sure it worked out okay for me but you don't want to be miles away from civilization with jacked up feet. This happened to me at Rocky Raccoon last year and for a searing moment I had a vivid idea of how hard it would be to crawl three miles. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> A van transported us to Woodworth where our trail run would start and the race was off.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The first mile and half or so of the race is on the road. We ran to the trail to make up some distance since the trail is 25 or so miles long. In the meeting we tried to nail down the specifics. Even the official sites seem to vary in their information. This is no big deal. If you understand small ultra races you'll understand that distance precision isn't a big deal. Maybe 27, maybe 29. We knew it would be under 30. It's an unspoken, universal ultra run rule. If you ever sign up for an ultra, carry extra supplies for this reason. Maybe your distance will be right on target, maybe you won't get lost, chances are it won't and you will. You'll be glad to pull out that extra gel at some point. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Onto the trail! Oh boy. Rich told me a story about his dad taking a rural road in Louisiana and corn brushing both sides of the car. This was something similar, only it was grass against my legs and not corn against a car. The first 3-4 miles was extremely narrow. This side of the trail seems less utilized. In a way that was quite lovely. I managed to evert my ankle in the first half mile and cramp my calf so I was alone. The last lonely soul on the trail. I wasn't lonely though. I was absolutely delighted to be there. I was all by myself, relying on me and it was perfect, minus the rebel calf. I stopped about four times trying to find the perfect tightness to the laces of my new shoes. I stopped and stretched the calf. I took a natural break. Race nerves. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Around mile 5-6 things were looking up and my calf finally let go. The yellow diamonds were easy to spot and the trail was well-marked. I had to pay attention at this point as I no longer had the tall grass to keep things tight. I encountered a lovely couple, Keith and Carol. Keith rolled his ankle and the damage was slowing his progress. He was still handling it like a champ but cautious. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPcNipzKt4bY0D9mHpHk3LFjOrWPxzhMP8yUQ3ZLxg6h7XDByC9Uu0N85XeuW4PHoGUeeVDIoyUi5QVevv9tzXA8EN9XSfyLnyEZ0eO5rKJ2OiGbFrMJnxkG8cLqmFX97upZEwCBQeB20/s1600/IMG_1373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPcNipzKt4bY0D9mHpHk3LFjOrWPxzhMP8yUQ3ZLxg6h7XDByC9Uu0N85XeuW4PHoGUeeVDIoyUi5QVevv9tzXA8EN9XSfyLnyEZ0eO5rKJ2OiGbFrMJnxkG8cLqmFX97upZEwCBQeB20/s1600/IMG_1373.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">Keith and Carol-31 years of love!</span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #741b47;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">.</span></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small; text-align: left;"> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I ran the rest of the race with these two wonderful people. They were celebrating their 31st wedding anniversary. I inquired over the long hours and many miles about their lives and shared stories of mine. I wish I had paid more attention the exact mile but somewhere in here were the most difficult miles of the race. Hills so steep I could have climbed them on all fours, boggy creek crossings, paying constant attention to stay on trail and not tripping over roots. The roots aren't bad. Compared to Rocky Raccoon it's smooth as glass but they're there. It's a twisty piece of work but once you get past it the trail opens up to some nice terrain. Scenic, serene. At each road crossing we found bottles of water, gatorade and other items. See the picture above. Twice they were completely out of fluids. We all carried fluids so we were okay but we were running low. A guy rode up on a mountain bike checking on us and we informed him of the low fluid issue. He promised to take care of it for the runners behind us. Eventually got what we needed and everything was fine. The race staff worked hard. This is the reason I pack my own fluids and food on the course. Anything can happen and it's just smart to be prepared</span><span style="color: #741b47;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span> </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #741b47;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tz5wKmIJ3EgI4nNgQY9QIsJCPpLelx6F4TSV9VQd7QSBaZmZjxfMS4IHttqHP_tZ5e5zLzBqPejRuMV2ui_VpGaq_KpHiA267asxqO4UbPklAhyphenhyphenKSLVc_c56Z1521Bw-Eayz2XJ8G_I/s1600/IMG_1378.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tz5wKmIJ3EgI4nNgQY9QIsJCPpLelx6F4TSV9VQd7QSBaZmZjxfMS4IHttqHP_tZ5e5zLzBqPejRuMV2ui_VpGaq_KpHiA267asxqO4UbPklAhyphenhyphenKSLVc_c56Z1521Bw-Eayz2XJ8G_I/s1600/IMG_1378.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: small; text-align: left;">Keith stumbles into a nap</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Little creeks crossed all over the trail. They were crystal clear and cold but we had been warned not to drink from them. All creek crossings had either some sort of concrete, branches or they were narrow enough to cross. Our feet stayed dry but if I did this run after a good rain I'd think about the potential for wet feet. We got lost once or twice. Nothing major but we did have to pay attention. One crossing involves going across a road to what looks like the trail and has a shelter with a trail map but isn't the trail. We had to cross the two lane highway to pick up the trail. <i> Always look for those yellow diamonds. </i> We were able to navigate back to the trail quickly because we were looking. The second sneaky section was down a deep ravine that didn't look like the right path. It was. The rest of the trail is pretty normal trail. The end of the race looks like an old asphalt path that has been allowed to decay. The hardest part of this race was the leaf coverage. It was thick! The leaf coverage made the roots tough to see and the trail slightly slick under my shoes. <span style="text-align: right;">Keith took a couple more stumbles because of this. He ran that race on all heart. Carol was the steady determination behind him. It was truly a pleasure to run with them. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP_HsqfYaqQEsvG_PSF6_KxZ53Mb0czlWO3ftzoevKasjq89OAyiw2NBevax5umksclSQUesp9lA3wjQZZRHiejECCpORVKUWzRSfALRMe9DCQkQXH6FBgXuVgKKGEg3U1rP-jjPBe0Bc/s1600/IMG_1400.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP_HsqfYaqQEsvG_PSF6_KxZ53Mb0czlWO3ftzoevKasjq89OAyiw2NBevax5umksclSQUesp9lA3wjQZZRHiejECCpORVKUWzRSfALRMe9DCQkQXH6FBgXuVgKKGEg3U1rP-jjPBe0Bc/s1600/IMG_1400.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #741b47; font-size: small; text-align: left;"> Love birds at the finish</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> I kept going back to one question though "Why do you think you've been successful in your marriage?" The answer was much like running the trail. "Perseverance," they answered, "We are committed. We've had our hard times but we don't give up. We believe in each other. That is the reason we love to do things like this together. Trust has been invaluable. Trust has been the guide during the rocky parts of our marriage." They were a team. Trail running is hard. It zaps your strength. It leaves you hungry, dirty, tired, lost and doubting. They crossed the finish line holding hands and smiling. It was a lesson on the trail within a lesson on the trail.<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><blockquote class="tr_bq">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLu0I0PxGUkOShsxl81Rco9wx8rCt65XgLdIZiqtq6JIUwH4oWo4g_fWOtt6vA1WVk6VNnrK5gPqXzdQYT7yh0bPB3fRMSL0i6gNFBhWages7BW2vByu8IjWQfrcfgEBWKLp6AZO6agw/s1600/IMG_1395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrLu0I0PxGUkOShsxl81Rco9wx8rCt65XgLdIZiqtq6JIUwH4oWo4g_fWOtt6vA1WVk6VNnrK5gPqXzdQYT7yh0bPB3fRMSL0i6gNFBhWages7BW2vByu8IjWQfrcfgEBWKLp6AZO6agw/s1600/IMG_1395.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></blockquote>
</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><blockquote>
<span style="color: #741b47; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">After losing his way and running an additional three miles Rich was still there at the end smiling and taking my picture. </span></span></blockquote>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03255773212805645881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1542817536741934994.post-45686421511217752552013-12-12T18:26:00.000-08:002013-12-13T08:28:14.480-08:00The Superman Hurts<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In 2012 I signed up for the 2013 Rocky Raccoon 50. My friend Laz finished a couple of 100 milers. He planted random and constant seeds that I should try an ultra. I'm not a very good road runner so substantially increasing the difficulty seemed like a good idea. :-) I didn't do a lot of trail running that year. I did run a few cow pastures. You haven't lived until you've been nose to nose with a cow on its turf. I thought it was good training so I kept on hurdling cow patties. In October, I contracted an upper respiratory infection that wouldn't let go. I lost a solid month of training. Long story short, I made it through my first 50 miler in February and I didn't die. I told myself as I kissed my finisher's medal "Never again!". </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Then in 2013 I signed up for the 2014 race. I forgot that 2013 was an exceptionally good weather year. I had a temporary lapse of what it's like to do 33.33 miles with giant blisters on your toes. I failed to recall how it felt to pray for 50 miles that you wouldn't break your ankle on a root. I erased thoughts about having to go private potty in the woods and pack out any supplies you used to to do the deed. Pure glamour. I forgot what it felt like to have the skin slip off of my pinkie toes and the strikingly tangible understanding of how hard it would be to crawl three miles to the finish line. I forgot how it felt to have another runner accidentally slam me into a tree taking the skin off of my knuckles. What I did remember was enough to make me do it all over again.</span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I remembered the feeling of taking on a challenge with great, big unknowns. I remembered sitting in a chair as my friend did the best he could to care for my blistered feet. It was a scorching memory of friendship. I remembered being surrounded by my friends running the 100. They left me in awe. I remembered Grady Harrison and his funny little accent. How I love that accent! If he hadn't run with me for miles this story might have had a different ending. I recalled running the second loop with some awesome girls, one of which I've retained as a very funny Facebook friend. I remembered my husband spending 12 plus long hours on his mountain bike as he rode the course unofficially volunteering and making sure I was still going. No matter how tired or hungry he was he always had a smile for me. I remembered the smell of quesadillas the volunteers cooked on the trail, you can't appreciate hunger until you've been truly hungry, and discovering how much I liked unflavored HEED. I had a favorite HEED supplier. He was charismatic and never poured it on my hands when he refilled my bottles. I remembered the young guy that must have weighed 200 plus pounds. He was sweating and laboring with each step. He kept falling and getting back up. It was obvious this was physically beyond anything he had ever done. He would hit the ground so hard! He just kept single-mindedly getting back up. It was the most impressive display of the human spirit I think I've ever witnessed. He never introduced himself to any of us and I never found out if he finished, but it doesn't matter. He became a winner in my heart. </span><br />
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #741b47; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So in 2013 the training plan involves a few more trails, a few more roots and apparently a few more Supermans. Supermans hurt but so does life. Hopefully I'll get back up with the same determination as my stranger hero. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03255773212805645881noreply@blogger.com2