rainy days and Mondays always get me down....

I thought I had that Carpenter's song on my iPod, but unfortunately, I don't. It would be the perfect song to play today, since not only is it Monday, but it's raining. And I'm feeling down. I had my orthopedic surgeon appt today. Very gross. The skin is breaking down and the top layer of skin on the top of my foot came off. It was so disgusting - you could see the blood below the surface where they operated and everything. It looked like raw, bloody meat. I couldn't even take a picture of it. So he bandaged me back up....oh yeah, and my blisters from my toes and foot being compressed are bursting, which just adds to the attractiveness of my foot. It's making me very self-conscious.

I don't know, today, was just hard. I haven't been able to work much because of the pain meds and exhaustion, which is stressful financially, and I'm nervous about writing programs. I haven't felt especially creative lately, and my brain is just worn out and tired. Add this to the constant agitation I have because I can't get rid of nervous tension physically by running or biking, and that's where I am.

I'm still sad about the triathlon and GOTR. Fellow athletes will understand - going from being very active to not active at all is torture for many of us. When I asked my surgeon today, he said I should be able to run about 9 weeks from now. Which is December.

pain meds ramblings

Things have been rough, recovery-wise. I got my stitches out Monday, but am still taking pain medicine pretty regularly. I get super tired really fast, and tried to do some food shopping today and was ready to burst out in tears after less than 10 minutes of walking around. Don't think that's happening any time soon. Thankfully, I only had to pick up Coke Zero and crescent rolls. I was watching the Women's World Championship triathlon yesterday, until I started to cry after the first 15 minutes. Today I went to Fleet Feet with my roommate, so she could get new sneakers for her half-marathon training...I guess I am a masochist. When I really think about it, I get really upset about the upcoming triathlon. I haven't withdrawn officially yet, because there is a part of me that will continue thinking maybe I will be able to do it until the very morning of. I will pick up my race packet the day before, and I will probably be in some sort of cognitive denial until the morning of the tri. Maybe it's misguided hope or some sort of protective thing.

I can't really write anything meaningful, since the pain medication has been kicking in. I haven't been doing as much writing, work-wise, because of the meds, which is incredibly frustrating and stressful for me.

it's a long road.

I am back at my house in Chapel Hill, on the road to recovery. The pain is still there; I described it today as constant. The medication dulls the pain to the point of me being able to function, but it never fully goes away. I keep saying to myself this is just temporary, this is temporary....it does not always work, but sometimes it does. It didn't help that this week was the kick-off week for Girls on the Run, so I keep getting emails about it....as well as I keep getting emails about the triathlon, telling me I need to change my swim times if need be. I have not officially withdrawn from the tri, and most likely will not. I'll be there the day before, picking up my race packet, damnit. Somewhere in my head I keep thinking, well, maybe I will be better by October 10th. I know this isn't possible. Not even remotely. But I still think it.

It's just, I don't think anyone REALLY thought I would do the tri. I've never done anything like it in my life, and it scared the crap out of me. But through training, I got myself back and fell in love with the sport. I worked my BUTT OFF, and it felt good. I pushed myself to my supposed limits and then surpassed them, and set the bar higher. I found a community of friendly people and was the healthiest I've been in a while. It's frustrating when I've worked so hard and this surgery has derailed my goals. I'm not a D-1 athlete, I'm not a pro. But it made me cry last night, because I really, really, really wanted to do the tri and run across that finish line and be able to call myself a triathlete.

I cope with stress by working out, and I can't do that. I can't even walk at a normal pace. I am getting applications ready, working on my writing portfolio, trying to work up motivation to study for the GREs and working for livestrong.com. Stress is ever present, and I've never wanted to run more than I do now. I cannot wait until I can even swim. I am trying not to be a Debbie Downer; maybe it's the pain meds making me this way. I'm hoping that this spurs my writing and I get some good pieces out of this emotion.

Reading: "someday this pain will be useful to you" by Peter Cameron (a New School MFA author); "the hunger games"; "warrior girls" by Michael Sokolove, about female athletes and injuries.

Listening: the new Anberlin album, "wildflower" by The JaneDear Girls

one day at a time.

So here I am, about 6 days post-op. This surgery was by far the most aggressive and the most painful surgery. They put in a titanium plate and screws in my foot, as well as a bone graft from a cadaver. My mom came down for the surgery and I spent Thurs-Mon at her hotel room, where she took care of me, gave me pain meds, and cleaned up after me when I was sick (thanks, Dilaudid....not eating pizza again for a while!). When I wasn't in pain, we had a good time, watching "Back to the Future" and ordering food. The pain was unbearable this time around, especially at night, when the pain was so bad I would beg for more pain medicine. Now I am at my dad's, because his house is mostly on one floor, and I am on crutches for at least this week. I've tapered pain meds, and now I am on Percoset, compared to the Oxy I was on. It's slow going, and little things exhaust me, but hopefully things will keep getting better.

I'm still bummed about not coaching Girls on the Run, and not competing in the tri. Very frustrating. But, I also have to realize that my body's been through a lot in the past 6 months. Two surgeries on the same foot - not minor surgeries, either. The shock to my system has been significant, and I have to take extra care of myself so I can return to sports stronger and better than before.

I haven't worked since last Wednesday, which makes me very anxious and stressed, but I'm hoping that starting tomorrow, I will be on as little pain meds as possible so I can start working more efficiently on both my articles and my applications. *sigh*.

breaking bones.

I mentioned a few posts ago that my foot surgery needs to be redone. I first had bunion surgery in May 2002, 2 days after my college graduation. Turned out that she had only shaved the bone, which is called a Silver bunionectomy. When I started tri training in earnest this year, my foot was acting up, and the bunion had recurred, causing my pain. So in March 2010, I had an osteotomy. They broke the first metatarsal and rearranged the joint, tendons and ligaments. When I started physical therapy in August, the 2 PTs took one look at my foot, looked at each other, and innocently mentioned that it looked like a "failed surgery." No lie, I cried right then and there. The toe was horribly curved, and I cannot stand flat on that foot; my weight is on the lateral side. I knew they were right. I saw another orthopedic surgeon, one specializing in only foot and ankle surgeries. He agreed that not only has the bunion recurred, but recurred WORSE, and I have developed arthritis in the first metatarsal joints. So I am having a THIRD surgery on my foot on Thursday. They say third time's the charm, right? This surgery will be fusing my bones, lengthening the first metatarsal joint, shortening the second and the fusion will fix both the arthritis and the bunion.

Needless to say, the October triathlon is not happening, the November triathlon is not happening, and I will not be a Coach for Girls on the Run this fall.

Those of you who are athletes will understand this; let me describe to non-athletes what this is like for me. It's devastating. Sure, I'm not a D-1 athlete or a professional. My tuition or my salary do not depend on my athletic accomplishments. But I am an athlete. Always have been, likely always will be. Sports is a stress reliever for me, it makes me feel confident, it makes me healthy and it makes me strong in all possible ways. Going for a run or swim does more than work and exhaust my body; it allows me time to empty my head of all the demons that have taunted me that day - will I get into an academic program, will I get a job, what if I'm not good enough, why is my bank account balance so low, why aren't there any decent guys out there - and it brings me back to myself. I can't explain it any other way. Feeling my muscles burn and work fills me with gratitude that I am able to do these activities and reminds me that my body is an amazing thing that needs to be cared for and fed and listened to. Finishing a 20 mile bike ride or a 3 mile run or a hard swim workout helps me realize that the only limits I have are the ones that I place on myself.

This year, I got into the best shape of my life, physically and mentally. Going to the gym was the one place that I felt at ease; it was the one place that I felt like a success. Like I was good at something. Now that I won't have that after next week, I need to focus on my work, my writing portfolio and my personal statements.

What brought this on, aside from my impending surgery? I'm watching the US Open. Watching tennis always reminds me just how much I love the sport. In high school, I lived and breathed tennis in the spring, summer and fall. I would have my dad drive me to the tennis wall at the high school near my house and spend hours hitting the ball against the wall. When he had the chance, my dad would play tennis with me, and he would hit that ball so hard that by the time tryouts came around, any serves or volleys that these girls had against me felt weak, compared to what I'd been playing against all summer. I developed a not-so-attractive John McEnroe-like habit of throwing my racquet when I was annoyed or not playing well, but I also developed one hell of a two-handed backhand and great serve. In mid-August, before tryouts, going to get my racquet restrung and shopping for new tennis shoes was a bit of a tradition. I'd pack my racquet bag with my racquets, cans of balls, headbands, wristbands, handle grips, vibration dampers for the strings....I'd dissect the games of Steffi Graf, Mary Jo Fernandez and Pete Sampras. I'd debate the merits of white versus blue tennis skirts, and wind up with both.

Because God has a wicked sense of humor, the day after I was told I needed another surgery, the newest issue of Runner's World arrived in my mailbox, and the next day, the new issue of Triathlete came in. I resigned myself to the fact that I would not be running a half-marathon on my 30th birthday in December, as I had wanted to, and that I would not be an "official" triathlete until some time next year. I guess maybe my half-Ironman within the next 2 years may also have to be postponed. The only triathlon in my near future is the Kona Ironman, which I will be watching on television, the day before my would-be first triathlon.

My surgery is on Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year and one of the holiest days of the Jewish calendar. I didn't know this when I scheduled it. Would it have made a difference? Probably not. But maybe this is a sign. Maybe it signifies that the coming year will be a sweet one, because of all the struggles this year brought. Maybe it signifies a new start with a stronger body.

They say that when you break a bone, it heals stronger than before. At least that's what I've heard. I am choosing to believe this. I am choosing to believe that after this surgery, my foot will be stronger than before and I can resume my triathlon training and become even better and stronger and more athletic than I was.

Because the alternative is unthinkable.

Planet Cancer.

My friend Heidi Adams, the founder of the organization Planet Cancer, sent me a copy of her new book, titled, appropriately enough, "Planet Cancer:The frequently bizarre yet always informative experiences and thoughts of your fellow natives." It is basically a book tailored to AYAs (those 15 to 39) diagnosed with cancer and those who love them. But really, cancer survivors and family members and friends of all ages will find this book entertaining and informative. There are stories from "real" people as to what it's like to participate in a clinical trial, what it's like to experience "roid rage", and what it's like to have your leg amputated. Sprinkled throughout the book are the Planet Cancer infamous "Top 10" lists that will make anyone crack up laughing. But all jokes aside, the book provides easy to understand, clear information about treatment, diagnosis, various tests, side effects, returning to the "real world", cancer in the workplace, relationships and cancer, and so much more. The book is informative and urges patients to be proactive without being preachy, and though it obviously deals with heavy stuff, nothing is sugar-coated or overly dramaticized. It reads like a conversation with a sarcastically funny, well-informed cancer advocate who doesn't shy away from some jokes that may seem inappropriate to some people. The book "goes there", and that's great. Having read many, if not most, of the books out there on cancer for "laypeople", this book ranks up there with the best of them (and I'm not just saying that because I know Heidi). AYAs especially are often forgotten about, and this book helps them feel like there are other people out there who can understand. There is also a large resource section at the end with books and websites and organizations where readers can find more information about everything mentioned in the book.

One of the Top Ten lists, contributed by other people I am lucky enough to "know" through the internet, JT and his boyfriend Michael, is this one:

Top 10 Attractions at the "Michael Diaz Dream Cancer Center for Young Adults"

10. Radiation laser tag.

9. No candy stripers - just strippers named Candy.

8. Try your luck at a basketball shooting game, only the rim is about a foot away. Face it: none of us has the strength to shoot a normal distance.

7. Win cool prizes, like, like....insurance coverage for another year! Keep the fucking stuffed animal.

6. Those mist things spray the med of your choice. (Imagine that. Now imagine that spraying Dilaudid. Hellz yeah).

5. All nurses' stations double as full-service bars. Push your nurse call button and order whatever the hell you want.

4. Vincristine or [insert name of your chemo here] is called "motherfucker": "Hey, I don't want any more of that motherfucker."

3. When you're prepping for surgery, you don't use any anesthesia. You just have sex until you pass out.

2. Everything is a game. You know, if you need to vomit, we bring in people you hate so you can vomit on them. Or we can line up the vomiters and see whose vomit is most toxic.

1. And how about the section where they give out nice, sensual massages to anyone who wants one? And you get a happy ending!