Home Sweet Home

It would appear that 1980s hair bands tend to inspire most of my posts.

Before it was Poison and now it is Motley Crue.  In listening to the song "Home Sweet Home" I got to thinking about what home, or my house, has meant to me, in particular during my recovery.  I never really thought about my house very deeply before my accident.  I wasn't really the homebody type, more of the out and about kind.  In fact, I wanted to sell the house and live out of an RV.  But that changed when I got hurt.  Recovery sure would have been interesting in an RV.  Surely I wouldn't have enjoyed it.  So the house was right choice.  I think.

As I have written before, one of the stressful moments of my recovery was when we had to move 2 weeks after my accident.  Being at my former house was comfortable and familiar but it was an older home with no bathroom on the main level.  After the injury, I spent most of my time on the main level, including nighttime, so it presented a challenge because I had to crutch up the stairs when I had to "go".  And given I was completely non-weight bearing, going up and down steps was not easy.

Sometimes I just asked for a ride to the local coffee shop to use the bathroom.  Pretty sad moment.  Additionally, the house had a shower with a tub - also on the second floor - which made it impossible for me to take a shower because I couldn't get my bad leg over and into the tub.  Thus I was forced to go and take a shower at my mother in law's.  Another sad moment.  Moreover, my wife had to drive me to my mother in law's to a take a shower.  Yet another sad moment.

I did, however, feel as if I belonged there and it was an appropriate place to carry out the rest of my healing process.  It felt, quite simply, like home.  We moved into our first house 2 weeks after we were married and lived there for 8 years.  All of my 3 kids were born when we lived in the house.  We grew into a family in the house.  We did projects and made changes and made it our own.  It was full of memories.  It was a cozy house built in the 1920s that wrapped itself around you.  But it was no longer practical.  It was a great home for 4 people but really tight for 5.  We could no longer creatively make use of the limited space.  Every room was tapped, including the basement.

After selling our house to a nice young couple, we moved to a new house with all the needed creature comforts of a bruised and battered individual.  I could use the bathroom on the main level.  I could enter into the stand alone shower without assistance and comfortably sit and use a shower chair.  From a physical comfort standpoint, the move was needed and a much welcomed change of environment.

In addition, it was a good house and not a dramatic change from a location perspective.  It was a block and half away from our old house.  It was well maintained and owned by the same family for almost 90 years.  It was the same style as our old house only bigger.  It had all the woodwork and hardwood floors that we liked.  Our daily lives would not change.  Commutes would be the same.  Routes to school would be the same.  Friends would remain the same.

However, emotionally speaking it was odd.  In some ways, I felt like we didn't belong there.  Maybe it was the injury speaking but it was now my home and I could only associate with it as an injured person.  I had never enjoyed new kids or or happy memories or birthdays or anniversaries or holidays or just the mundane morning routine.  I had nothing grounding me there.  I felt like a foreigner.  I felt lost.  The house almost felt sterile, practically banal.  I felt like I did in the hospital.

Even when we got some new appliances and painted some rooms and put in a new patio and fence and sod in the backyard, it felt like the home belonged someone other than me.  And perhaps that is always the case in a new house.  Perhaps it takes time to make it go from a house to a home.  Perhaps only time can bring memories and parties and help the home wrap its arms around you and become part of you.  And sometimes that can happen quickly.  When you feel healthy and confident and normal.  When you aren't, you feel like stranger in your own home.

And that was how I felt because I was hurt.  And then we had an issue with the toilet.  Then a few lights didn't work.  Then we got a little water in the basement.  And then we had a nasty property dispute with our next door neighbor.  Then the stress got worse.  Then the kids called the lady next door, "the bad lady."

Then I wanted to sell the house.  Then I knew it wasn't our home.  It was a mistake.  I was hurt and all these annoying things were happening.  I was hurt and needed to be in a comfortable, stress free place where I could recover and care for my family.  I was hurt and I hated being at home.  Now, I might as well have been living a million miles from home.  And I couldn't really go anywhere because I was on crutches and getting out wasn't easy.  I was stuck at home I didn't want with a body that didn't work and a head that made Nick Nolte seem sane.

I didn't know what to do.

Then, like anything else in recovery, time seemed to change everything.

I wish I could say I had an epiphany or we mended fences with the lady next door.  I didn't.  We didn't.  We didn't take a vacation and get a better appreciation for home.  We simply made some memories and had an anniversary and a couple of birthdays and Christmas. We decorated the house for holidays.  We had some laughs.  We had a few hundred morning routines.  My injury got better and I felt more comfortable.  The seasons changed and we fell in love with our fireplace and brand new windows.  We watched the snow fall and watched movies.  The house became what we first saw in it.  The house reminded us why we bought it.  The house became part of us and we became part of the house.

And I began to notice that at home is where I didn't have as much pain.  I didn't seem to limp as much as I did outside the house.  It became a bit of refuge.  I really liked working from there.  I really liked being there.  I slept well and I felt at peace when I was there.  It is now, odd enough, to the point where I need to remind myself that I need to leave more often and going to the office is good for my spirit and my career.  Home is a place to come back to, not a place to hide.

I know many bruised and battered become shut-ins perhaps because their house is so comfortable and peaceful.  We all need that.  Or because it is too much to get out.  I what it is like to only feel at peace with myself when I am at home.  And I know what it feels like not to have a home you want to go home to..  But as much as we need a home, we need to live too.  So use it as a place to refuel for your life.

In the end, I think I have learned what a house really is and how much I appreciate the house that I have.  And as much as this house and I got off to a rocky start, we have grown to love each other.  I understand the house better and its creaks and its quirks and all the things that make it unique.  I understand that a house, just like its owners, is not perfect.  And that is okay.  Because imperfect or not, we as a family need it to work and play and cook and care for each other.  We needed it to become a home and it is our home now.  And it has helped me recover - little by little - better than any other place could.

I have often said that people don't really own these old homes, they just act as caretakers for a while.  A few months ago I would have gladly given up my responsibilities for a song.  But now I know we were meant to live in this house and we were destined to be together.  Just as my accident has become part of me so has my new home.

It gives new meaning to the song "Home Sweet Home"... The song couldn't have been sung by a more aptly named band.    A Motley Crew is exactly what my family has become, thanks to our new house.

Thanks for reading...

A Mindful Recovery

I have mentioned several times before about the mental and emotional challenges presented in recovery and how these are often ignored for the physical challenges.  We are well aware of the physical challenges and they get a lot of attention in terms of massage, physical therapy, exercise, and other bodywork.  The physical side of things can change our lives and cause pain and discomfort.  That is why doctors are paid so well.  But the side of effect of the physical injury is really what this does to our confidence, our mood, and our overall state of mind.  It sets us on an emotional roller coaster that is very difficult to exit.

Immediately following my injury and subsequent surgery I maintained a fairly positive attitude.  I was, though, quite in shock and couldn't believe my misfortune.  I do remember feeling quite helpless at times and kept looking for opportunities to do something besides sit around and wait for the bone to heal.  I ended up doing a lot of pull-ups and dips (probably too many) just to make myself feel like I was doing something to physically improve myself.  Surprisingly, at the beginning, I thought I could beat the injury quickly.  I learned though that I had an injury that wasn't going to heal fast and I learned it the hard way.  The original surgeon I had was an ADD nut-job and he threw my head into a tizzy.  And the injury was going to take time to heal; it didn't matter how good of shape I was in.  I wasn't 25 anymore and I had broken the biggest bone in my body.  Thus, I became more of head case than I already was.

To deal with it and feed my mental and emotional side, I threw myself into my job.  So much so that I took only 2 days off from work after the surgery and didn't really take any time off until after I got off crutches.  In fact, at the time I considered time off from work to be a waste because I couldn't do much anyway beside sit around.  So I thought might as well work.  This ended up causing me to develop quite a chip on my shoulder for some reason and brought out my inner rebellious side.  I stopped cutting my hair and I was listening to Grateful Dead bootlegs like I was 21 again.  In reflection, it was a strange time.

And in the end it backfired a bit. I ended up getting upset at someone at work and got myself into some hot water for a while.  It was nothing severe or fatal but it dinged my reputation a little.  And unfortunately it it continued to feed the chip on my shoulder.  I wasn't exactly an angry man but certainly had a lost a lot of respect for authority.

Some of it eased once I got off the crutches and began therapy but still I was annoyed by my limp and my pain and flung myself into ultra problem solver mode.  I think my mind was heading there from the beginning but it got worse and worse in the first few months of recovery.  I used every free moment to research this or that up about how to fix my hip in one way or another.  My mind was constantly thinking about recovery; so much so that I was probably never in the moment.  I tend to be a bit scattered and perpetually thinking anyway so it wasn't a stretch, but I think I thought that I could intellectualize myself out of the injury.  Perhaps there is some sort of truth to that - I think - but I never turned my mind off, ever.  The constant running thoughts in and of itself became a point of stress.  I lost sleep.  I lost time.  I lost precious moments.

Because of that I wasn't even able to enjoy some activities that could have relaxed.  I have long been a habitual reader but during the accident I was only able to read 3 books: The Dirt: Confessions of the World's Most Notorious Rock Band about the band Motley Crue, Savages by Don Winslow, and Ultimate Rush by Joe Dirt.  And what about these 3 books grabbed me I have no idea.  Maybe they all have something to do with dirt or grit or rebelliousness.  I did read them all very quickly - within a few days, eating up the words but hardly enjoying them.  But the books were few and far between.  Perhaps they were just a binge sessions to save myself from complete insanity.  I don't know but actually sitting down to read seemed like a slow, non productive activity for a while.  I am making a comeback now but it is still slow going.  I still feel more comfortable grabbing the Ipad and looking up "lateral pelvic tilt" than I do grabbing a book.

I also couldn't pray.  To be honest I don't pray every day or every week but I never would say I don't pray at all.  I don't think I started again until a few months ago.  It seemed like a such a non concrete activity.  It didn't seem like it could help me at all.  It was all too whimsical.  I needed something I could do.  So I did a lot of thinking.

This all built up to more and more anger.  And more anxiety.  The downside of thinking is that is causes the glass to always be quite full and it doesn't take much to cause it spill.  6 months after the injury I was mentally and emotionally worse off than I was immediately after the accident.

Thankfully that balloon finally deflated itself, mostly because I have made a constant effort to turn my head off as much as possible and try some radical acceptance and gratitude.  In the end it also led to a much needed job change.  I believe the job change would have come with or without the accident but it probably would have happened differently.

In the end I learned that you can't think your way to recovery.  It is good to be proactive and be looking for ways to improve and get better but after a certain point it is really about consistency and time.  So as long as you are willing to keep at it and not quit, then over time you will get better.  But you can't constantly be worrying or thinking about it.  Trust me it is the hardest thing to do.  You just want to solve the problem.  Yet that causes us to miss out on so many great things in life.  For me I missed out on some great books and movies and on a daily basis missed out on the little things like a sunset or beautiful bird or beautiful woman walking by.  I probably missed out at work because while on conference calls I was multitasking and lost an opportunity to learn something or find an opportunity to advance myself.

The real interesting thing is that while I was (and still am) recovering, I am still alive.  I can still take deep breaths and feel my heart beating.  I can still be in the moment.  I can still choose not get lost in my head.  These are things that would have made my recovery much more enjoyable or manageable.  Or at least made it easier on myself.  Mindfulness - the practice of staying in the moment - is good for everyone but recovery by its nature causes us to naturally retreat inward and protect ourselves.  While typically the focus is to do what ever we can to improve the body, equal measures should be taken to improve and relax the mind.  Because a relaxed mind leads to relaxed body.  And a relaxed body is one that is open to healing and adjustment and balance.

Mindfulness is certainly easier said than done and takes a lot of practice.  There are hundreds of books on the topic.  Whether you are in recovery or not, the act of being in the moment and turning off the running thoughts can make everything easier.  The past is in the past and the future is in the future.  All you have is in the present.  And being in the present sometimes isn't where the bruised and battered want to be.  But it is a heck of a lot better than being dead or dying or with incurable cancer.  So consider the alternative.  Someone always has it worse than you.

So go and enjoy the little things in life.  Notice life around you and be mindful of everything but yourself, at times.  Look at it as a mental break you can take at any moment.  And it doesn't cost a thing.  All it takes is an off switch for the mind.  Problem is that it takes a little while to find it.

Thanks for reading...

The Goal is the Goal

Goal setting in adults is something I think is sorely lacking.  So much so that I don't think we even know how to set quality, tangible goals for ourselves.  We push our children to learn how skate all the way around the rink or catch 10 out of 10 passes or ride their bike all the way down the block or learn all their spelling words but we adults tend to just trudge through our lives with the hope that we are going to get better but never actually putting down something concrete.  And, to be clear, these aren't resolutions.  Resolutions are declarations or expressions.  Resolutions fail because they really aren't anything you can measure.  Goals succeed because they put a line in the sand and, if carried out correctly, bring us to a better place than before.

The hard truth is many of us adults never really plan for ourselves; year after year passes and we are still stuck in the same job, with the same routine, and carrying around the same 20 pounds we have been meaning to lose.  Because as the saying goes, "Failing to plan is planning to fail."

I felt like I was doing exactly that until I recently signed up to do some online personal training with my favorite trainer Geoff Neupert.  I was so excited to work with him that I felt like a kid on the Christmas morning the evening that my specialized program came.

Before he actually wrote up a program, however, he asked me a simple question: "What are your goals?"

To which I replied: "Get stronger."

And I seriously thought that was a good enough response.  As someone is recovery, I figured that would suffice.  But healing or "getting better" isn't really a goal.  It is a desire but a goal is much more definitive and concrete.  It is something like "the ability to walk up 3 flights of stairs without the use of a cane".  And it is about doing some real self care and owning it.

I should have known better given all the talk of goal setting in the workplace but I guess I half expected Geoff to take what I had said and work his magic.  But he didn't know how strong I was already nor did he know what I wanted to be stronger at/in/with.  So he kept whittling away at me until we came up with 3 fairly solid strength goals that meet my particular needs.  The difficult thing was, each time he asked a question of me I was forced to sit and really think about what I wanted.  Because, I came to realize, there a millions ways to define "stronger" and stronger for me may not mean stronger to someone else.  Forgive me, but I can be a bit dense at times.

In some ways it was very uncomfortable.  It felt so nebulous - as if I was pulling something out of thin air.  And perhaps that is why so many adults don't set goals.  As kids many of our goals seem to be dictated for us. Learn to read.  Learn to ride a bike.  Learn to drive.  As adults, however, we have already achieved most of those baseline goals and now it is about self actualization of who we are uniquely meant to be.  And we don't do it because life seems to get in the way.  Or we simply let life get in the way - because it is easier than thinking about who we want to be or what we really want out of life or what we want to improve about ourselves.

Even more to the point, I was recently sent a link to this article: "The Goal is to Keep the Goal" from All About Kettlebells.  In it the author credits Geoff Neupert and another great trainer, Dan John, with the title of the article.  Quite simply the message is to set a goal, get a program or method to get you to that goal, and stick with it.  And it isn't always an easy process.  But if you want to get somewhere other than where you are at, then you have to go through it.

Sometimes the goal setting process can be fun and exciting and even getting the plan can be straightforward. Sometimes the plan is fun and exciting because you get a new book or get to work with a great instructor or trainer.  Then 2 months into it you get bored.  You get distracted.  You get antsy or depressed or sick.  And then you can't keep the goal.

Well to that I say if the goal is worth achieving, then it is isn't going to entertain you or make you feel excited all the time.  Sometimes it might be downright boring.  Trainer Pavel Tsatsouline has been quoted as saying that lawyers are better than others at staying fit and getting strong because they can deal with boredom better than the rest of us.  Now I don't know if that is true but the point is well taken.  Keep the goal, stay the course during the ups and downs and you will achieve what you want to achieve.  And don't' expect it to always be rosy.  Expect that you will hate it sometimes.  Expect that you will have drag yourself to the gym or curse the fact that you have to eat a salad instead of french fries or will have to practice yet another day.  But you will thank yourself once you achieve the goal.  And don't get too caught up with a bad day or bad week.  Keep the long view.

I know staying inspired is not always easy but, over time, you have to find it somewhere.  One of my favorite Nike commercials says, "Passion has a funny way of trumping logic."  So, I take this to mean, if you have passion and enough wherewithal or simple motivation to keep the goal, you will get there.  And while this is particularly true for us bruised and battered, it is also true for anyone who wants to improve themselves.  

I encourage everyone to set goals and keep them.  For me I have my recovery goals and I have other goals, including the success of this blog.  I don't have a lot of readers right now but if I stick with it and set goals of getting 100, 200, 500, or 1,000 readers per post, I will get there and the blog will become what I want it to be.  It may take a few months or a few years but as the article says "The Goal is to Keep the Goal". 

To that end, the Nike commercial also says "...the odds may be stacked against you. Fair enough. But what the odds don't know is, this isn't a math test."  Life is about producing actualities, not living out some sort of expert prediction.  Keep striving as if you couldn't fail, as if success is guaranteed - even if logic, maybe even your own internal logic, says it isn't.  And time will tell the tale.

So get a goal, any goal.  No goal is too strange or unworthy, if you believe in it.  For example, I read an article about a guy whose goal for 2013 was to do the Rubik's cube in under 10 minutes.  Hey, it's not my thing but he is going to be a better person when he achieves it.  

Therefore people, set those goals, they aren't just for kids anymore.

Thanks for reading...

"You Have to Live Your Life"

I wrote a bit in my 2012 year end piece about not being your injury or illness.  I said that we need to make every effort to transcend it and overcome whatever obstacles are in our way.  In particular, I spoke of someone close to me who has MS and has recently lost 50 pounds.  I found it very inspirational because there are times where I feel that I - albeit mentally and emotionally - succumb to feeling like my life is on hold in some ways and I can really start living once I am completely healed.

One area of my life that I put on hold is riding my bike in the winter.  Some of you may feel that riding your bike in the winter is crazy for anyone, hip injury or not.  But here in Minnesota we embrace the winter.  We run, we snowshoe, we ski, we ice fish, and we bike - all in the cold and ice and slush and snow.  As long as you have the right gear and equipment - and a little bit of gumption - you can enjoy "summer" activities all year year round.  It is an attitude that sets us apart from other places.  I am not a native Minnesotan and tend to be more critical of this nutty state than I should be, but the fact that the people here are so active year round and treat the cold and snow as nothing more than a slight nuance is something that has changed me for the better.  It is something I admire in the people and has toughened me up to do anything in any kind of weather conditions.  It may seem crazy to our western and southern brethren but biking in the winter is a bit like wresting an alligator.  If you know what you are doing, it is a calculated risk with (usually) an exhilarating, positive outcome.  If you don't, well, you get hurt - or die...

Nevertheless, when the first snowfall came in mid December I was hesitant to get on the bike.  I had decided in November that I would ride in the winter but when it came time to actually ride, I froze.  I was scared.  I didn't want to fall.  And rationally that was the right way to feel.  There was no reason to put myself in harm's way.  I didn't need to prolong my injury or set myself back.  So for about 3 weeks I didn't get on the bike and figured that I would do other things this winter, perhaps snowshoeing.  Perhaps salsa dancing.  And I had convinced myself I was okay with that.

Then one day last week I drove to work, following my usual riding route to work along the Mississippi River.  I saw some people riding.  I saw how beautiful the river looks in winter.  I saw that the paths looked clear enough.  And it got me thinking: I have a bike rigged for winter with the best studded tires money can buy.  I can ride slow.  I can just ride once a week to work.  I can...

So I got up last Friday morning and told my wife I was riding to work.  And somewhat to my surprise she didn't say anything to me.  From time to time, my wife will comment on things I am doing and express concern.  In fact, on the day I crashed she expressed concern before and during the ride.  And I assured her I was fine but of course I wasn't.  What I have learned is that my wife has very good intuition and if she feels like something could happen, she is usually right.  So I try and listen.  But this time she didn't say much.  She called and asked me how the ride was when I got there and that was it.

Later that night I asked her if she was mad at me for riding, given the fact if I were to get hurt again it would throw our household into an immediate tizzy.

Instead she said, "No, I am proud of you.  You have to live your life."

And she is right.  Just that comment got me motivated to keep living my life and moving forward as much as I can without thinking or acting on part of the injury.  I need to consciously not limp the best I can.  I need to not lean and sit too much.  I need to move on.  In some ways my body is not ready to completely move on but if I can get my mind and spirit there, hopefully the body will follow.

The ride itself, then, was great.  I missed the cold winds and sounds of snow crackling under my tires.  I missed the nice sleepy fatigue a winter ride brings at the end of the day.  I missed feeling confident when the terrain is unsure.  All in all, I missed how much fun riding in the winter is.  I went slow but I never felt like I was going to fall.  Since then I have ridden 2 more times and have 2 more rides planned for this week.

I feel (a little more) like myself again.

So no matter your state, get your body to place where you can live your life. If I can do it, you can do it.  I am far enough along that I can finally enjoy myself again.  So if you are hurt or just plain de-conditioned, just get up and get active.  Get strong.  Get motivated.  No matter if you are 15, 30, or 65, go live your life.  You will thank yourself for it.

And hopefully I will see you out on the trail.

Thanks for reading...

A Therapy Confession

I have to make a confession.  I need to get something off my chest, so to say.  I am a huge Sarah Palin fan.  I really hope she gets back on the ticket.  Just kidding.  Sorry that's not even a good joke because it is not even remotely believable.  Actually, here goes: "Call Me Maybe" might be my favorite song of 2012.  Okay, kind of true, but I am procrastinating here.  Procrastinating is kind of fun.  Especially when it it involves small, harmless fibs.

In truth, here is my confession: I never received any traditional physical therapy after my hip fracture. 

I did get a little immediately following the surgery to basically make sure I was mobile enough to get up from a seated position, use the crutches to move around, make it to the bathroom, get in and out of a car, go up and down steps - you get the picture.  But after I was done with crutches and I was cleared to begin strengthening and rehabilitating, I was never prescribed nor did I ever participate in traditional PT. 

I did, however, ask for it.  I asked for it right after I got off crutches and then I asked for it again 2 months later.  The first time the surgeon told me it wasn't going to help someone like me - I was already versed in exercise.  He said just start working out and biking and I will get better.  So I started working one on one with a Pilates instructor and I started making progress.  The second time I asked because I was concerned with my leg length difference and wanted a gait specialist.  The surgeon pretty much replied with the same answer and said to keep working with the Pilates instructor.  So I did until October when I recovered enough that I wanted to focus on strength training. 

To me this has always been one of the great mysteries of my recovery.  I don't quite understand why.  I also recently had a physical and asked my internal medicine doctor why.   He replied by saying he thinks many don't often make a lot of progress with physical therapists.  To me this feels like quite a generalization but I suppose the theory applies to me.  I told him what I had done to recover and he said that was the right thing.  He also said long term to get a personal trainer and focus on keeping my mid section strong.  To be honest, I don't take a lot of stock in getting fitness advice from MDs but I think his approach is the right one.

Therefore, what I can theorize is that doctors seem to be somewhat unknowingly pushing patients away from PT and towards full body exercise such as strength training and Pilates.  The question still remains as to why and I suppose I have only two thoughts.  One, they don't like PTs.  PTs and MDs tend to have a long standing dislike of each other and some philosophical disagreements.  I think this has some truth but disregarding PT altogether seems like it could in the end  be bad for the MDs so it seems odd to dismiss it completely. 

That leads to my other thought.  And that is, they don't believe that PT works because the traditional approach it usually takes to recovery is flawed, outdated, or simply doesn't help the patient get progressively better.  Now I know there are some great, foward-thinking PTs out there but as a whole it seems that PT is very singular in its focus.  You hurt your elbow, lets do some elbow exercises.  Maybe some shoulder stuff could help because it is all connected but that's not what you are here for; you are here for the elbow.  Conversely, with Pilates, you are going to work the whole body and focus on full body alignment, strength, and posture.  Same is true for kettlebells.

Again, I am not here to disparage PTs.  I think they have a very, very important role in recovery and healthcare in general.  Nonetheless, the fact that the surgeon never recommended it to me and to some extent encouraged me not to do it has always been something that weighed on my mind.  So much so that is has been awkward when people ask about how my physical therapy is going because I never did any in the sense that most people think of it.  It has been in some ways difficult for others to understand given the magnitude of my accident.  It always took a little bit of explanation.  Instead of saying, "It is going well," I have had to say, "Well, I have never had any.  I have been doing Pilates..."  I guess I am used to it by now and from here I can just forward people to the blog.

All in all, my situation aside, it will be interesting to see where and how PT fits into the picture in the future.  I suppose all we can do for now is sit back and wait.  And get our own trainers to work with. 

Now that I have confessed, I can move on and not worry about it.  I can get back to listening to "Call Me Maybe" and hoping for a future President of the United States from Alaska...

Thanks for reading...