Tibia Plateau Reconstruction
Well today marks the 6 month anniversary since that fateful, sunny, March Colorado afternoon that I broke my leg. I am doing limited walking, I can bike relatively pain free, my yoga arsenal is increasing bit by bit and yesterday I went rock climbing for the first time since the accident! I can’t walk very fast nor very far, but I am getting there. Everyday is an opportunity for me to practice patience and accepting that I am exactly where I am, and it is perfect. Some days my emotions get the better of me, instead of being grateful to stand and to walk, I long to be able to walk thousands of miles, and I dwell on the fact that I can’t, not right now at least. Sometimes I notice that and bring it back, other times I get distracted with distress and envy of those who can do what I crave. I am working on letting myself grieve and really feel all my emotions.
I am naturally a very positive and optimistic person, sometimes to a fault. Almost immediately, I outwardly accepted what had happened and the impending consequences of it. Of course, there was crying and grieving, but maybe not to the extent that I had needed. I pushed a lot of it down and instead focused on how this was now my path (not better, not worse, just the path), that everything happens for a reason, that this was an awakening to slow down, to stop trying to have things figured out and to have my life planned out. It was an opportunity to focus on the parts of myself that I had been neglecting. While all this stuff is true and was amazing for me to focus on in these difficult times, I think in my pursuit of the silver linings, I forgot mostly about balancing this with letting myself feel what I feel. With letting myself be sad, grief stricken about the alternative reality slipping through my fingers. A reality and lifestyle that I had craved and dreamed of for so long. Still to this day I am observing this inward struggle.
There is the Lynne who is so cool, calm, collected and content with this present path, with going with the flow, with not planning out my future, but taking it one step at a time. Figuring out the next move once it is time, who is patient with her body and where on the healing scale it lies. I feel like this is who often I front as, I think there is a deeper element of this too, but this deep peace is often confused with the mind chatter of my ego. This other Lynne who wants to be hiking or biking thousands of miles, wants to be traveling, wants to do the things that everyone else can, wants to be abroad, wants to immerse herself in the Spanish language, wants to write about the travels, wants to have it all figured out. Wants to have each step and each adventure planned out in a timeline fashion, and wants life to go according to her plan. Its worked in the past, it works for other people, wanting something, dreaming of something, then doing everything in your power to go get it, to accomplish it, to reach that end goal. The thing is, it is not guaranteed that life will go along with my desires, my wants, my goals or my plans.
There is a boat load of unknown variables that could go in any of an infinite amount of ways. An infinite amount of different paths from here, of ways that any given situation could turn out. And I blindly pursue the one that I desire the most. The one I think will bring me the most fulfillment, the most peace, the most sense of accomplishment. I am still learning that this can only be found in the present moment, there is no future moment, no future accomplishment, no future place or activity that will bring me all that I desire.
There isn’t two of me, there is only one. Maybe the mind isn’t as divided as I think, maybe this authentic self and illusion of separateness are the same thing on different ends. Me and myself, great buddies, mortal enemies. What if we were just great buddies? What if I just laughed at the notion that I should be anywhere else, doing anything else, that there was anything else to want. If I just smiled at the constant wanting and desiring, I think there may be something to that but I haven’t figured it out yet, maybe there isn’t even anything to figure out.
So, there is this inward struggle between where I am and where part of me wants to be. Well, I could just suck it up right, since there is no way to snap my fingers and make my knee the way it was before I missed that turn. Or I could take a more gentle approach, I could acknowledge that there is a part of me that wants to be elsewhere, and I can accept that with loving awareness. I also could acknowledge the peace that always accompanies the present. Always. Maybe there doesn’t need to be such a struggle, such a fight against all this wanting. But what about ambition? And goals? And general life direction? Well, I think that one is for each person to find their own balance. I came to the conclusion that I do indeed have a general life direction, I have lots of goals, I have lots of ambitions. I guess for me right now its just figuring out which things I can work on now with my physical limitations, and which things will come later. I need to tune in to the world and my deeper intuition to listen for the next right step, next right direction. It could go a million and one different ways, all as correct as the next. Like all things, there is a delicate balance to having goals/aspirations and living whole heartedly in the present moment, nothing is separate and there is no need to choose in between having goals and living in harmony with the now. Again, still in the process of fully understanding and practicing this idea, the road is long.
I did a bit of traveling through the UP of Michigan, stopping outside of Marquette to hike up Sugarloaf Mountain. Sugarloaf had been one of the spots that I marked off as a point of interest, but after my bike riding, back hurting and the sun setting, I had ceased thinking about it. When I saw the sign warning of the impending trailhead parking, I slowed and pulled in on a whim. My friend had said it was a great spot for sunsets and would ya look at what was setting. I got my little camelback ready, put my keys and phone in there, grabbed my hiking poles, layered up and started across the parking lot. At the entrance to the trail I hesitated, I could already tell my knee was aggravated and tired. I wasn’t sure how long the hike was, maybe about a mile. I walked a few minutes on a smooth dirt path through the forest before coming upon a sign and the first step of impending stairs. As I write this I vaguely recall reading a warning of stairs extending to the top of the mountain, but I didn’t really think about that nor how difficult stairs are for my knee. I hesitated at the stairs, there was no one here, no one I felt obligated to go along with, no one to persuade my mind with an outward perspective or influence. I battled with myself, there is nothing to prove, you’ve done a lot today, it is already bothering you, why aggravate it further with a climb to the top of a mountain? Oh, I’ll just play it by ear, I reasoned, I’ll go really slow, be super mindful and if it really starts bothering me, I’ll turn back, I don’t need to make it to the top. I began the first of countless staircases up to the top of this well traveled tourist favorite. Being mindful not to put my poles in the space between the wood, I pushed with both poles on the impending left foot step up. I walked slowly and mindfully, getting distracted with my thoughts, with the discomfort in my knee then trying to return to the present. One stair at a time with the words of my doctor echoing in my mind “if it starts to hurt, stop, don’t be a hero, pain is not gain in this instance”. But the discrimination I’ve been having difficulty with is pain vs discomfort. Where does discomfort end and pain begin? What is strengthening my knee and where is the line of detriment and pushing further than the knee is ready for?
One stair case would end and the trail would continue, sometimes rocky and rooty. Those were always my favorite kind of trails, challenging enough to make you stay focused and present, but balancing the right amount of play as you jump, walk, step and hop from rock to rock, carefully placing each foot in the right spot to dance with the trail. I mean they still are, but hiking as a whole is quite different now. In my pre-injury days, especially around the time I hiked the AT, I would have bounded up and down that mountain, leaping from rock to root, going around the stairs to stay on the dirt as long as I could. The game has changed. Now I must move slowly, mindfully and with great care.
Finally, after many staircases I came to a crossroads. A woman and her dog came down from the direction of the summit. Stairs as far as I could see. “Hi!” I called to the woman, “how much further to the summit?” I asked. “Oh, probably just a couple more stairs, it is starting to get really beautiful with the sun setting” she replied. “Awesome, thanks!”. My leg was sure feeling it, the joint was becoming more and more stiff and swollen, feeling heavier with each step. Okay, I thought, I can do a couple more stairs….. Turns out she actually meant sets of stairs which have 3-4 staircases in each set. I finally arrived to a section near the top where I had a pretty picturesque view of the surrounding area. Further upwards was another 2/3 stair cases, going all the way to the summit. This is my summit, I thought, good enough for me!
Somewhere on the descent of that mountain I realized that hiking would probably be forever different for me. I realized that despite my intense desire to return to long distance trail walking, my body will not be capable of that for quite some time. They say this injury of the tibia plateau takes on average 1 year to completely heal. At first I didn’t believe that, that’s for normal people I thought, I’m young, I’m healthy and I’m not like the rest! Around 4-5 months the reality started sinking in that maybe they were telling the truth. There is no telling when my leg will be ready to endure thousands of miles over rugged mountains carrying everything I need to survive on my back. There is no way to know. But it is not soon in my crystal ball. I stopped in my tracks at the bottom of another set of stairs to let that notion sink in. So if I can’t walk far what will I do? I took a breath and continued downward. I returned to the present moment and felt my feet hitting the earth as I made the trek down to my car.
I still have discomfort in my knee every day and every night, to varying degrees. Some days I’ll be walking and be remarkably pleased that if I go slow enough, my knee almost feels pain free. Then, I usually jinx myself, overdo it and then begins the incessant pounding and discomfort. I am grateful that I’ve been able to settle myself into more or less of a solid, healthy routine throughout this time. I’ve been able to do a lot of reading, soul searching and observation of my mind and world. My intentions are to intermix my physical therapy with both restorative and strengthening yoga and keep that routine going as well. My longevity in dancing, standing and walking are slowly increasing. I am creating space and time to dedicate to something I’ve always been passionate about, writing. I am finding and cultivating the strength and discipline to finally figure out some health issues I have been dealing with my entire life. Going forward I plan on working at a partner camp in New Hampshire for the month of October, helping facilitate a few larger groups. It will be revitalizing to be back in the Northeast for the first time since 2017. After that, I have no solid plans, just trying to keep the doors open for whatever the next move might be, stay tuned.
Lots of love,
Lynne
