My Journey Through Hip Labrum Recovery: Entry 5 - Two Weeks

Moving on.

I had my 2 week post-op visit with Dr. Adickes last Friday and my stitches were removed. The incisions are gnarly and the Band-Aid glue has been helpful in providing me with a nice rash. We discussed the rehab protocol, weaning from the crutches and the forward plan. We are moving on.

Physical therapy has been grueling and my body feels more tired than in the hours post-ironman. No matter your fitness level, everything is twice as hard when you have little muscle memory in your quads and adductor, and I find myself getting frustrated with how difficult the simplest exercises are to complete. The therapists know this and reward me with trips to the stationary bike as an end to the sessions. I can still spin 100+ rpm's consistently for extended time periods without my breath laboring. That's when I'm in my element and feel good about where I'm at, the proverbial trip down the finisher's chute. I find recovery from the therapy sessions takes much longer than I am used to and am having to re-learn patience and trusting my body's cues as to when it needs rest and attention. Both elements that I took for granted not more than a month ago.

I have completely removed myself from the pain medications and choose to only medicate with the daily arthritis preventative and the compound cream that I received as part of rehab. I find the combination of these two keep the headaches away and allow me to move about freely without too much pain. The CPM machine is gone. Sleeping is difficult. I wore the "shackle" brace the first two weeks and am finding that removing it is helping me sleep better. You never really appreciate how much you move in your sleep until you are restricted from doing so (get the theme here?). So instead, I have been building forts with pillows and sleep in a pillow-box to keep from rolling over. Reversion to adolescence?

I am back at work full-time and am in the process of moving my office furniture back to pre-surgery design. It is extremely comfortable to sit like this (although not very functional):

I have to get up and walk multiple times throughout the day to keep the blood flowing in my legs. Sitting and standing are the most painful activities because you cannot help placing your hips into angles that it does not want to be in. The comments about the creaking crutches have stopped, and now the joke is centered around how I "can sneak up on people again." The ladies in my office still insist on bringing me bottles of water and laffy taffy even though I've told them multiple times that I am not a quadriplegic. I'll take all the love I can get....

Therapy is now centered around regaining muscle strength in my legs, more specifically, the quad, groin, hamstring and glute. I am tasked with going to the gym everyday to ride the stationary bike, do box squats, leg extensions, calf raises, leg press (avoiding 90 degree angles) and all of the upper body lifting I can handle. I cannot use free-weights just yet, so everything is done with a machine. There is also a very strict regiment of planking and bridging that I am tasked with everyday. Never thought I'd say it, but I miss the pool. And the pavement. And the sweat. Maybe even the spandex, just a little? Here is my first visit to the stationary bike:

My mood swings like a pendulum as each perceived victory is followed by a succession of defeats. I keep telling myself that I am lucky and things could be much worse. I pray, knowing that there is a lesson to be learned from all of this. Still I find myself on twitter reading about races and training, and hear my friends talking about progression and I feel lost. Something that was both inspiring and soothing was taken from me and my soul hurts. I say "sorry" more than I used to as I am often times offensive and bitter. It's difficult to mask the amount of physical pain, let alone the emotional pain that comes with not being able to fully function. I have a new found respect for those who are permanently crippled...they win a race everyday.

The pain in my hip is deep and it aches. But I am getting better. I can walk without crutches, albeit slowly. For all of the bad information on the web pertaining to this injury, the best thing I read about was the super-extensive recovery time. This is not a knee injury--they heal faster. Being a non-vascular joint means there is no blood flow to the injury or the repair, so it is taking my body much longer to absorb the work that was done. At this point in the recovery, my doctors are estimating a return to light jogging in mid-January and a return to pre-injury status in May-June. This gives me 2-3 months of preparation for the USAT nationals in August which I plan on attending. But for now, I will just take an hour without pain. Maybe even 30 minutes.

"Let it go. Let it roll right off your shoulder. Don't you know, the hardest part is over. Let it in. Let your clarity define you in the end. We will only just remember how it feels."

My Journey Through Hip Labrum Recovery: Entry 4 - One Week

"He reveals the deep things of darkness and brings deep shadows into the light" (Job 12:22)

I was just thinking last night about how it had been a full week since my surgery and that I needed to take all of the inspirations from the past week and begin writing. It wasn't until I began reading through my emails and noticed a quote that I felt I had enough to get going. "Life is often lived forward, but understood backward."

The above scripture and quote pretty much summarize how the first week of this journey has been for me. After the spinal tap wore off and I began weaning myself off of the 4 medications I was prescribed, life got more interesting by unveiling what had actually been done to my body on Oct 10, and more importantly, what had been done to my body over the last two years. I suspect that it was coming down off of the meds that filled me with the realization that I was now completely helpless and 100% reliant on outside things/individuals. Pain. Depression. Panic. Of course once you start to see the darkness you continue to toe in deeper and deeper until you are totally encompassed in negativity and self-doubt. My thoughts were consumed by the prospects of never walking, let alone, running again. Is this pain was always going to be here? Was that a pop I just heard? Is this pain normal? Should I call the doctor? I hate laying in this bed hooked up to this machine . I hate having to call Emily to come lift me up so that I can go pee. I hate being stuck indoors. I hate my email notification noise. I hate everything....

I actually cried for the first time in many years. Then some very powerful words that I have used over and over again hit me. "Dig deep. Keep moving forward. Surprise Yourself. Be the Best." The personal mantras that I wrote about several months ago were still there. What was most surprising is that they were as effective, if not more, in this life scenario vs. their normal triathlon scenario.

The day before my surgery I had dinner with some very dear friends who live in our neighborhood. Not sure if it was the fear in my eyes or them sensing the stress and worry that I was harboring at the time, but they said something to me that was punctual for the moment, but did not truly resonate until I went through the dark place mentioned above. 'You are going through this and when you get out, you are going to appreciate your body and what you have been able to do with it even more. The universe has its own way of giving back.'

God has a way of communicating to us and I truly believe that most of the time we miss it. In this moment, the succession of events had to be perfect for me to understand the message. I had gotten to a place in triathlon where it was becoming easy and I was unappreciative of the fact that I could not only finish the race but that I could finish in the top 10 of my age group. I was unappreciative of the fact that training was no longer grueling and laborious. I was unappreciative of my body. Further, if I didn't finish well, I was angry with myself, training had become a process and I never sat back and evaluated how my body was reacting to the stress.

Please see the metaphor in all of this. All of these actions were transpiring in my life outside of this sport as well. You are not a different person in each facet of your life, it is impossible. You are who you are, and you will be who you will be no matter what you are doing. That's why it is so important to live a healthy life in everything you do. I had taken this too far, too fast, and no longer appreciated the hard work or the machine used to do it. God was reeling me back in.

As for the less important message, my body is still healing. I was able to get into the Ironman Sports Institute for physical therapy and could not be more pleased with the facility and my trainers. I am hurting and I can tell that things are not right in my hip and adductor, but I have faith and I put my full trust in Dr. Adickes' ability to heal. I have trouble getting out of bed, bending my torso anywhere near 90 degrees (putting on shoes, putting on pants, petting the dogs, etc. etc.), and need help carrying anything that will not effectively travel in my backpack. I do hear popping and snapping noises. As a result of the adductor reposition, I have no muscle memory of lifting my leg, or holding it elevated with my quad. My abdomen hurts. My butt hurts. My hip still hurts. And more worrisome, my other leg is aching in all of its joints from taking on the burden of my dead leg. Oh, and I still cannot feel certain very crucial areas of my body after the spinal tap (use your imagination). No red flags or alarms need to go off just yet for any of the above as they are all part of the process.

I am optimistic.

Take away the tangibles from the surgery but also understand the most important lesson in all of this: be very cautious as to who and what you serve. We go through the dark places because we lack focus and judgment. God wants us to be successful, but our success must positively impact others. Not just ourselves.

My Journey Through Hip Labrum Recovery: Entry 3 - Recovering

This morning marks day 5 of the recovery process since the surgery to repair my hip. When I was told this was my only option to run with the same intensity ever again, I started the process of doing research to better understand the mechanics of the surgery, the aftermath and any tips athletes had to offer from their experience. Along with what my research uncovered, I now have my own set of universal truths that I would like to share in hopes of educating those going through the same thing.

• First of all, it's not the end of the world. More than likely, you will be able to resume your pre-jacked up hip activities. The flip side is that it's not days or weeks, but months before you can do so. Learn to accept this and build upon your patience level (which the majority of triathletes have zero, so this is a good place to start).
• Opt in for the spinal tap before surgery...it will save you 12 hours of misery afterwards.
• Realize that you are going to need help doing the normal, mundane things that are typically taken for granted and understand that you will absolutely have to ask for help... Sitting up. Sitting down. Putting on underwear (or just go with gym shorts full-time). Putting on socks. Showering. Moving pillows. And last/most important/most personal, going to the bathroom (which by the way is a marathon in and of itself). This is not a training run, you cannot do any of these by yourself.
•  The CPM machine sucks, You have to wear this thing for 6 hours/day and it is loud, uncomfortable and monotonous. Imagine the worst amusement park ride ever built: it takes your knee up to the angle you choose, then back down. And does it again. And again. And just when you think it might deviate, it does it again. But wear it to prevent atrophy in your leg and protect those quads that you have worked so hard to build up,
• Medications...I have 4 prescriptions for pills and 2 prescriptions for topical compounds. There is absolutely no way that you are going to remember to take 1 pill every 4 hours, another every 6, another once a day and another only if your stomach hurts (and then every 2-3 hours). That and you need to rub a NSAI cream on your hip. I built a spreadsheet, no joke.
• Stay hydrated. You will wake up with hangover-esque headaches otherwise...I use coconut water, G2 and tons of water.
• Crackers are a life saver when your stomach is aching.
• Larabars have become my breakfast, lunch and dinner.
• Crutches suck. I went to amazon.com and bought these things called "crutcheze" which have been extremely helpful in preventing sores on my hands and underarms.
• Start physical therapy immediately, otherwise you will start getting sore on parts of your body that didn't have holes punched into them.
• Get plenty of books and magazines to read.
• Load up your ipod with music that can play while you doze in and out of consciousness.
• Those geek socks that race directors give away in their swag bags are awesome to sleep in.
• Count your blessings...

I am hanging in there and progressing quite well. I am able to put weight on my foot while on crutches and I have my first physical therapy session this afternoon, so things are turning around for the best. The pain is manageable and I am getting better at managing the logistics of getting around. I owe all of my progress, from the surgery to now, to the prayers and thoughts of all of my family and friends. There is absolutely no way to do it otherwise!

Will follow-up after PT this afternoon. Thanks for keeping up with my adventure.

Kelly

My Journey Through Hip Labrum Recovery: Entry 2 - Post Op

My day started off at 7am when I got up, packed for the weekend and took what would be the only shower I could take in the next 3 days. I had made the decision earlier in the week to stay at my awesome in-laws' home to avoid the 3 sets of stairs at our home in the Heights. We arrived at the Ironman Institute promptly at 10am, signed a 5" stack of paperwork, swiped my debit card for the 10th time and then waited for about 15min before being called back to my pre-op room. My attending nurse, Debra, was a lovely and energetic person who was a believer and wished me good luck over and over again. She was also a runner and had backpacked through Europe, so her stories were entertaining and consuming.

Dr. Adickes was behind schedule for the day by over 4 hours, so the nurses brought me a DVD player and I was able to watch Argo while we waited. The best part of the waiting came when the anesthesiologist came by to prep for the spinal tap that I had pre-approved to aid in the recovery process. A few drops of magic into the IV and I was in an alternate universe with no recollection of what happened in the movie. Is Argo the name of the movie or the name of Ben Affleck's character? No clue. At approximately 230pm. the anesthesiologist assistant, Terry, came by and administered another dose of juice and the anesthesiologist, John, came by and stuck 2 holes in my back and my leg started twitching uncontrollably. I felt nothing, but heard him say "perfect." 30 seconds later I was being wheeled back into the operating room and transferred to the table.

I can remember one of the nurses asking me about Ironman and telling me that she was just starting to begin running as a hobby, and the last thing I remember was me telling her to "pick a different hobby." Probably not my best moment, but at least I was being honest...Oxygen mask on, lights out.

When I woke up, I immediately pulled down my gown and blanket to see how many incisions I had. The attending nurse came over and asked what I thought I was doing and I told him I was checking to see how bad the surgery was. He told me it was the best case scenario: that they had only been in for 1.5 hours and that the repairs were successful. After chugging 4 glasses of water (hadn't had anything since 9pm the night before and it was 630 pm), I was wheeled out of the post-op room and fitted for my crutches. The Breg brace was handed over along with a bag full of meds, and I was wheeled out to the car. Quick and easy.

The night was long and painful. My leg was slowly coming back to life from the spinal tap and all of my muscles were twitching simultaneously. Since everything from the belly down was numb, I felt like I had to pee all night. Getting out of bed and onto the crutches was a chore and I needed help lifting up my foot because I had no strength (or feeling) in my upper leg. The vicodin and valium regiment kept me comfortable and I was able to make it until it was time to leave for my follow-up appointment at 745am the next morning. Traffic was typical for Houston and we made it just in time to make the 945am appointment. Here are the pics from the surgery showing the torn labrum being trimmed and the metallic spacer being put into the adductor:

Dr. Adickes has to be one of the nicest and most direct doctors I have ever encountered. He explained exactly what he did, went through all of the pictures and told me the causes of the injury. Hip was impinged through riding bike in aero position, stretching the hip adductor and then immediately lengthening the adductor by running afterwards. The injury should be avoided by the repositioning and stretching that the doc did, along with minor adjustments to the bike setup and a through stretching regiment when racing/training. Made an additional appointment for two weeks out to have the stitches removed and then left to meet the CPM salesman at the house.

The CPM machine is terrible. Imagine 6 hours of buzzing noises and your knee moving up and down, over and over again. I have to do this everyday, for 14 days. Here is the a-hole at work:

Physical therapy begins immediately, which for me means Tuesday since that is the earliest I can get in. I have been instructed to ride the stationary bike everyday and begin water running after two weeks Total therapy time is 3x/week for 4 weeks. The anticipation from Dr. Adickes is the utilize the crutches for 21 days, remain home from work for 1 week. Swimming with pool buoy and water jogging after 2 weeks. I was told to not even think about running until March 2014....

So as of this first entry, I am in a good place. I'm sore but I am confident. Having my red raiders on TV right now and being able to watch full coverage of the Ironman World Championship in Kona has helped to alleviate some of the worry.

Special thanks to my mother-in-law who is "supermom" for driving me all over town. Special thanks to my wife for waiting on me hand and foot. Special thanks to all of the doctors and nurses at the Ironman Institute. Special thanks to Dr. Adickes. Special thanks to mom, dad, brother and sister-in-law for prayers and texts. And last but definitely not least, thanks to countless family and friends who have emailed and called to wish me luck and check in with me. Especially Jamie and Nikki who dropped off the most amazing care package one could ever imagine! I am truly blessed!

Now back to my coconut water, football games and IM Kona. Follow-up blog on the way...

Kelly