When I received an email asking if I would be interested in ClassPass for a month, I jumped on the chance not really knowing what it was or how it worked. My physical therapist had given me a list of exercises and I had been hitting my home gym for months. It was time for me to get back out after being isolated for most of the winter after surgery.
I am an outdoor girl, but a fitness flunk-out. I’m that person in the back row that falls over while balancing and knocks over all the fitness balls. Yep. That’s me, but I was ready to try, try again.
Last week, my son, Kelly, called after he received a phone message relaying the results of his back x-rays. He broke his L-5 and pelvis snowboarding six years ago and he had experienced a flare-up.The doctor prescribed anti-inflammatories and recommended not lifting anything over twenty-five pounds.The radiologist said they found a deformity and he should make a follow-up appointment.
What could that mean? Between my parents’ health and my own, I had a lot on my mind. My son’s health compounded my worry. I prayed for a sign of hope.
After 7 weeks of sitting home recuperating after surgery, I was ready for adventure. My husband, Danny, went skiing with work buddies, so I decided to drive up Friday night and meet him in the mountains. We have a home on Baldy Mountain just above the town of Breckenridge opposite the ski resort. I just about gave up packing my car since I was so exhausted, but forced myself to keep going. I HAD TO GET OUT OF THE HOUSE! On my way up, I hit a snowstorm, but love driving in snowy conditions even though it added an hour to my drive. I’m a Wild Driver.
As promised by my surgeon, I woke up Saturday morning with unbelievable energy after a steroid shot the Monday before. I decided to make a breakFEAST. While running to the grocery store, I pulled over next to a gnarly snowboarder dude with some pretty cool dreads waiting at the bus stop.
I’m going on seven weeks since my partial knee replacement. I’m still laying in bed taking it easy and elevating while icing. I hate ice. Why can’t heat reduce swelling?
I went to my six week checkup on Monday not knowing what to expect. It’s never good when your doctor starts out by saying, “I expected you to be so much farther along. You’re at least two weeks behind.” He thought I’d be healed up and ready to ski and play tennis.
GAH! What the hell happened?
“Your knee is really angry. You need to calm it down.”
I looked at my pissed off knee and thought, What did I ever do to you? I’ve always loved my knobby knees. Oh yeah. I guess amputating bone and messed up cartilage then replacing it with a metal plate and plastic could put me on your shit list. Sorry!Continue reading →
This photo was taken in Jackson Hole, Wyoming my senior year in college. Yep. That’s me with the bota bag. Remember those? My friend and I stayed with ski bums who worked on the mountain as ski hosts. Little did I know drinking while skiing could be a very bad idea. I would face surgery becoming even more bionic thirty years later.
For thirteen months, we’ve hung out in our new residence behind your pectoral muscles. It has taken us a while to get used to the cramped quarters, but we are adjusting. We understand you are trying to make us feel at home. Although, we totally appreciate the effort, sometimes, you freak us out.
First of all, why do you grab us every time you tell someone about your double boobectomy? The shock alone turns our silicone hearts to ice. One minute we’re chillin’ while you’re yammering on with a friend, an acquaintance, or some random person you just met. Then you snatch us in fists so tight, well, it’s disturbing. We understand you like to talk with your hands, but quit feeling us up.
You are pretty insensitive. We are adopted. We know you miss your old boobs. We will never replace them, but we’re doing our best. Could you at least stop complaining about how weird we feel? You’ve been told the odd feeling will go away. We were there. Remember? Continue reading →
I know you’ve been adjusting to your new digs since the reconstruction surgery seven months ago. I’ve protected you from wild elbows, supported you with a bra, and exercised you by smooshing you girls together. (Doctor’s orders.) You seem happy enough and pretty perky.
I do have some concerns.
One night, I looked down and you had wandered off to the sides of my chest. You left four inches between you two. I almost had a heart attack. I thought I’d torn something while vacuuming. As you know, I’ve started wearing a sport’s bra to bed to corral you at night, so I don’t wake up and freak out. I wish you girls would stick together.
Although you’re shaped like hamburger buns and aren’t huge by any means, you weigh more than my old boobs. In fact, you’re a little on the hefty side. The doctor suggested some exercises to build muscles in my back to keep from hunching over.
I thought I’d never need to wear a bra again, but apparently some of your sisters have sagged. I’ve been instructed to wear one when I’m active. Bummer. You’re a little wrinkly when you’re just hanging out, but I refuse to get a fat transfer. You’ll have to get used to that.
You look totally fake and I’m sure some people will stare and roll their eyes this summer. They’ll think I had a boob job. I can always wear this t-shirt. Continue reading →